Florida Anchoring and Mooring Law
A new law is being considered in Florida that could have a huge impact on transient boaters who like to anchor out. I am opposed to this law, as it currently stands, for the following reasons:
1. The law allows cities to create mooring fields (the so-called "pilot" program) that drastically reduce, and quite possibly eliminate, anchoring opportunities in these communities. These mooring fields will probably take up all of the best anchoring room, and the law allows cities to enact ordinances prohibiting anchoring outside the mooring fields. Note that the mooring fields in Ft. Myers Beach and Marathon have essentially eliminated all anchoring except for the shallowest draft boats. This law does not protect access for the public, and in particular transient boaters.
2. The law does say that the laws limiting anchoring around mooring fields must be approved by the FWC with proper input, but that is an awfully vague standard. No limits are placed on these laws. This is a huge loophole through which very onerous laws could be enacted. There should be clear-cut criteria on limiting anchoring: not within so many feet of the moorings might make some sense. But to allow communities to dream up any laws, subject only to the approval or disapproval of the FWC, puts total trust in our lawmakers, and provides no protection for boaters.
In any case, this may be a moot point in many harbors (like Ft. Myers Beach and Marathon). If the mooring fields cover all of the good anchoring area, there won't be anyplace to anchor.
3. There are miscellaneous disasters in the law waiting to happen. One that jumped out at me is that counties will be allowed to charge boaters up to half of the regular Florida registration fee for the privilege of being in the county. Every county will look at this as a way to pick up revenue by hounding boaters for their fees and probably requiring some sort of sticker to prove that you've paid.
In short, this law does nothing for transient boaters, and probably will also negatively impact Floridians who wish to cruise the state.
UPDATE: See Post Below
This article from Soundings Trade Only has some facts to back up my on-the-water sense that boating traffic was down last year.
The Recession and Cruising
What does the recession mean to cruisers? I've heard tales of cruisers having to return to the U.S. due to dramatic drops in their retirement funds. I suspect that a lot of these folks will stick out the recession outside of the U.S., but they will probably be flocking in greater numbers to the really cheap areas like Mexico or South America. Strangely, in the U.S. I have yet to see much impact on prices for boating equipment or dockage. Marinas seem to be mostly full up, but possibly some folks on waiting lists are finally getting their chance for a space. I did detect many fewer cruisers out in New England waters at the beginning of the summer, but things seemed to pick up towards the fall. To compensate for somewhat fewer boaters marine businesses seem to be raising prices to keep profits up. The hardcore, dedicated boaters will still stick with the sport as long as feasible, so maybe prices can be jacked up to compensate for reduced demand, but eventually I think we should begin to see some price drops on dockage and moorings. For example, I noticed mid-week specials in some marinas last summer, sopmething I don't ever recall seeing before in July. The current drop in fuel prices may delay some folks getting rid of their gas guzzling powerboats, but obviously there will be another dramatic rise in price if the economy ever picks up again. If you've got some free cash, this might be an ideal time to look for that more fuel-efficient boat, or that sailboat of your dreams. Published prices haven't come down that much, but anecdotal evidence indicates owners are willing to deal. Today I saw a craigslist.com (the best free classifieds for smaller local boats) ad that was begging someone to buy his boat, "Please!" My read of the economic tea leaves is that the economy is only going to get worse before it gets better, so I suspect it will be a buyers market right through 2009. The best bargain in cruising right now might just be the U.S. With fuel prices relatively low, the possibility of economic stagnation keeping prices on marinas and food low for awhile, and less crowding on the water will all mean good cruising times. Couple that with the relative safety and lack of crime in the U.S., and we've got it pretty good right here. A U.S. cruise could easily be spiced up with a trip to Canada, the Bahamas, or Alaska without leaving behind most of the advantages of a domestic trip.
Where have all the boaters gone?
No, it wasn't deserted out there this summer, but there are definite signs that the combination of high fuel prices and a collapsing economy have dampened the spirits of cruising boaters. We were in Cuttyhunk harbor for the July 4th celebration and there were many empty slips in the marina along with a special discount for mid-week stays--something I can't recall seeing before in crowded New England. We anchored out in the pond as usual, and generally there was plenty of space except for the occasional boater who anchored too close out of inexperience. All the talk on the docks and the waterfront was about fuel prices, how to save fuel, and where to go close to home. There is even talk amongst powerboaters about switching to sail, something I haven't heard since the Jimmy Carter era. Of course most sailors, me included, motor a lot, but sailboats tend to be rather efficient motorboats when they have to be. Our motorsailor burns around 1 gallon per hour doing six knots, and with a 115 gallon tank that gives us a theoretical range of about 690 miles. If we throttle back to five knots fuel consumption goes way down and our range goes way up. See my article in the October issue of Ocean Navigator magazine for more details. Range is becoming more important as we are beginning to see an era where there may be fuel shortages. Shortages may result not only from a dearth of the product on the market, but from fewer marinas selling diesel as the market shrinks (less boats going shorter distances), environmental regulations change, and some marine businesses failing. Also, a long range lets you plan your fuel stops for where it is cheapest. In addition, I think jugging fuel from land stations may become more and more necessary, in order to save money or to obtain the necessary stuff. One bright thought, even with $5 per gallon diesel, we could motor the entire ICW from Norfolk to Miami (1090 land miles) for less than $800, which is not an outrageous amount of money.
Equipping Yourself for Cruising
We all read lots of articles about how to best equip our boats for the rigors of the cruising environment. This is important stuff: communications gear, sails, safety equipment, clothing, etc. But what about preparing the most important things aboard: you and the crew? Along with the check lists of spare parts and new equipment, it is even more important to understand and prepare your mind and body for what can be a very challenging experience. Here is a list of five things to do that are critical to an enjoyable voyage over the horizon: 1. Learn to fix stuff! I have spoken to many people who have abandoned the cruising dream, and they almost always say it was the breakdowns that did them in. We all joke about fixing our boats in exotic places around the world, but it is literally true. Not a boat arrives in port after a trip of any length without at least some important things on the "to do" list. Boats are not cars. Even production boats differ greatly from unit to unit, and cruising boats soon become modified extensively. There are no shop manuals to go by. There are no standard parts lists. No chains of cheap repair shops. Each repair is a custom job. You can't simply bring a boat into the shop for a quick fix, no matter where you are cruising and how much money you have. The reality is that you will be at least overseeing repairs, even when there is a shop to bring the boat to. In much of the cruising world there are no shops. You might be hard pressed to find a fuel dock, let alone a repair dock. In addition to all the spare parts you can carry, you need to be prepared to install the parts. That means bringing the proper tools, knowing how to use them, and understanding the concepts that determine how things work. How do you acquire this do-it-yourself mentality? I strongly urge anyone contemplating cruising to spend at least several years with your boat prior to taking anything more than a local cruising trip. It is a lot easier to learn these skills if you do it within reach of the Internet, parts stores, and repair shops. Even brand new boats will go through lots of teething troubles. Don't just bring it to the dealer and say fix it. Study the parts, figure out why they don't work, analyze what tools you would need to do the repair yourself, buy the manuals or books you might need, and try to watch over the repair job if someone else is doing the work. I've never purchased a new boat--in fact every boat I've owned was very old and I needed to fix a lot of stuff. This was great training for cruising. Working your way up from smaller to bigger boats, repairing everything along the way, is perfect practice for the time when you can take off. Tackle every job you can carry tools for onboard--you'll be doing that when you're out cruising. This will likely include repairing sail tears (do you have sail thread, a sewing palm, and replacement sail slides?), replacing rigging (do you have bolt cutters and spare rigging terminals?), rebuilding your alternator (do you have at least one spare alternator and a set of diodes?), fixing a crack in the hull or keel (underwater epoxy?), troubleshooting wiring (spare fuses, wires, bulbs, crimping tool?), fixing your freshwater pump (rebuild kit, spare pump, extra hose clamps?), rebuilding your head (toilet repair kit, or two?). The list is endless. In general, the rule is if you can't fix it onboard, you must have at least one complete spare. Some things are beyond the skills of all but the most proficient skippers: electronic repairs and fuel injection pumps come to mind. I look at sails as a back up if my engine fails, and most of the sail system is repairable onboard. However, if the GPS goes out there is little I can do, so I carry at least three units, all different so I can't be tripped up by a single Achilles heel. 2. Learn to work with the weather, not against it. Sounds easy, doesn't it? Yet, all too often I see new cruisers set out with a landlubbers mentality toward weather. On land we watch the report on TV and then head out based on a prediction of what the next few hours will be like. Yes, we have wonderful prediction tools and communications technology onboard to transmit this information, but when cruising you are dealing with periods of days, weeks, or months. All the technology in the world won't save you if you fight the seasons. You have to go with the flow. Heading out unnecessarily into rough conditions has often lead to the final straw that broke the rigging, strained the engine mounts, or banged the crew's head. I don't care how big and strong your boat is, it won't be pleasant out there in bad conditions and there will be extra wear and tear on the boat and crew. Lack of this skill is probably the number two reason why some give up cruising. I have frequently talked to different folks on different boats, after making the same passage, and their tales of the trip are sometimes diametrically opposed. One boat talks about the wonderful passage and the other talks about sleeping on the floor so they wouldn't be thrown from their bunks. The difference in arrival time is often only a matter of a few days, sometimes just a few hours. One boat left when the tide was with the wind, flattening the seas, while the other left with wind against the current building up a rough chop. Or maybe one boat left before dawn to catch the morning light air while the others slept in and dealt with the afternoon blow. Or on passage, one boat sailed across the Gulf Stream fast in order to get out of the maximum current before the big winds arrived, while the other boat smashed along in the Stream making great time but hanging on for dear life. Sometimes this means changing your destination in the middle of a trip--if the wind and weather make it too hard to get there, go somewhere else. The best trips are the ones that were the most flexible. Bad weather, spend an extra day in port. Unfavorable current, wait until dawn to enter. Change in the wind, head to another port. Cruising that is about getting to points A, B, and C on schedule are almost always fraught with tension and frequently calamity. I'm sorry, but if you are on a strict schedule you aren't cruising. You might get away with following a schedule for awhile, but it just doesn't work in the long run. You can tell the "real" cruisers. They're talking in terms of seasons, not dates. "We'll be at the Canal before the rainy season." "We're moving north before hurricane season." Very simple tools to get in this mindset are readily available and highly accurate, yet are dismissed by many. Pilot charts for every cruising area provide historical averages of the wind and weather that can be expected in every season. Go with these averages, based on observations since the 19th century, and you will have solved most of your weather prediction problems. Start with the pilot chart for your seasonal planning and only use weather forecasts for your final departure planning. In other words, don't try to sail around the Caribbean during hurricane season or cross the North Atlantic in November. You just won't win those games. 3. Live and let live. I'm serious. Without the right attitude towards this life you won't have fun. If you are the controlling, type A personality, who demands perfection and expects everyone to hop to, you simply won't like cruising. Oh sure, some driven folks like this are out there, but they are generally miserable and making everyone miserable around them. They may last a year or two, but they usually retreat to land where they can control their environment. Items one and two above illustrate how you have to go with the flow or you won't really get anywhere. When cruising you are at the whim of nature and entropy--the weather changes, and stuff breaks down. That's just the way it is and always will be, no matter what technology or strategy you employ. For one thing, unless you stay awfully close to home, you will be encountering people and environments that are new and different. That is why we go cruising. It might be possible to simply pass from harbor to harbor, never going ashore, but you will still have to deal with local officials, new weather patterns, and political whirlwinds you probably have no control over. If you don't like people at home because of the color of their skin, the language they speak, their religion, their customs, or the way they do business, you will be really upset when you go cruising. These folks will be coming on your boat to check your passports, selling you food in the market, telling you where to anchor or not anchor, and telling you what their local laws allow and don't allow. You will have to change your travel plans to avoid dangerous areas, or to include areas that people are talking about. This can be upsetting to the most easy going person, and if you are not easy going you will be in constant anger at the unpleasantness of it all. And, you cant go around telling everyone how they should be doing things. I loved a bumper sticker I used to see in South Carolina. It said, "Don't tell me how you did it up north." Southerners are proud of the way they do things their own ways and I can guarantee you it is the same around the world. That is not to say you can't help people out when they need it. We always have various small presents onboard for the myriad children you will encounter. Kids everywhere are curious and more open to new things. They may ask to come aboard when their parents remain aloof. Or you might wake up one morning to knocking on the hull by a canoe load of children. Invite them aboard, learn from them, tell them about your home, ask them about their homes. If you are in poor areas you will find that the needs are certainly larger than any gifts you can provide, but small tokens can bridge big divides. We found that once you've broken ice with the children you will probably soon break ice with the parents. My daughter, Heather, gave a small stuffed animal to a young girl in a canoe. Weeks later we were on an island in the area and a whole gaggle of kids ran up and surrounded us. They had heard of the generous gift and wanted to meet us. Soon the father of the girl insisted we come to his home to meet his family. He proceeded to get us drinking coconuts and we all chatted as best we could. You have to be open to this type of cultural exchange and unexpected event or you will not enjoy cruising. You can't be rigid in your habits or your plans. Are you a strict vegetarian? You might have a tough time eating in a lot of places. Many areas of the world do not grow or import the wide variety of vegetables we are used to in North America. In the San Blas Islands of Panama we found almost no vegetables available in many stores. You will be invited into homes and asked to join in meals that will include some meat, and people won't understand if you refuse. Do you always go running each morning? There are lots of places you simply can't do it. I remember going dizzy watching someone run around and around a tiny island that was the only possible place to run for miles. He managed, but there were many other lovely anchorages where this wasn't possible. Do you have to stay in touch with someone on a regular basis? It might not be possible. Yes, there are satphones, email via SSB and Ham radio, and even satellite Internet, but none of these systems are as fast or as reliable as what we have on land. I can guarantee you that they will fail at some point, and if you absolutely have to reach your stockbroker that will be the day everything breaks down. On the other hand, the person who delights in seeing and experiencing people and places that are different will be constantly entertained. You need to laugh when the restaurants don't open until after dark. You have to be prepared to do without your accustomed cocktail. You have to delight in seeing someone of a different color wearing different clothes running things differently than you've ever seen before. If you don't like things different, stay at home. 4. Learn about the places you are going. Again, this sounds silly to some, but it is not at all obvious to others. There are modern cruisers who arrive in harbors, fire up the generator, close the hatches, and put on another video, while nearby there are pyramids to explore, different foods to experience, museums to visit, and scenery that you will never see anywhere else. You need to educate yourself about what there is to see. Buy every guide to the country you can get your hands on, and not just the cruising guides. The tourist publications will alert you to many things that are not in the boating books. This includes studying the local languages, art, music, film, literature, etc. You will find that there are no better stores to buy this stuff than you will find at home. Keep in mind that even if you do find a bookstore in a new area the chances are they won't have books in your native language. And, studying and learning new languages is extremely helpful too. English is very widely spoken and understood almost everywhere, at least to some extant, but you can gain a lot more if you also know the local language. At they very least you should learn a few simple phrases that can go a long way towards breaking the ice. "Please," "thank you," and "good morning" will work wonders to get by that ornery customs official. Language skills are also necessary when you are inevitably hunting down that part or welding shop, as you will be doing everywhere. In addition to guidebooks to the area I like to purchase land and road maps so I can find my way around. Every cruising boat should carry a detailed world atlas. Road maps are an exception to the purchase-at-home rule. Often there are local maps that are much better than something you can find at Amazon or Barnes & Noble. Even if I can't talk or understand the local language I can usually point out something on a map and get some directions. Similarly, visual aids are a great way to find historic places or even outboard motor parts--show someone a picture of something and they get the 1000-word idea. In some cases you will find that local nautical charts are also better. Even if the charts use a different language you can often figure out everything you need to know, as most nautical symbols are universal. There may be local cruising guides too. You can never get too much information about a place you are headed or a place you've just arrived. The cruiser's grapevine, often in the form of SSB, Ham, or VHF radio nets, is invaluable for advice. And, you can ask questions! Where is the best fuel? What harbors are dangerous? Where can I get some local cash? What are the best harbors? People often ask us if we were worried about security. The boater's grapevine provided security information faster than any news or government service--frequently in real time. When someone up ahead encounters a poorly marked channel they warn everyone behind. When a boat is robbed the whole harbor finds out the next day and takes action. If someone is lost they call for help and several people respond with advice based on their own observations made recently. Of course the Internet is both a great source of information and a way to get horribly mislead. It is possible to get great information and advice on a country, or to be turned off by one person's bad experience broadcast on some Internet forum. This is no different than what you will hear on the radio, but somehow it carries more weight being in print and on your computer screen. We have seen particular harbors panned that we thought were great, and other harbors praised that we didn't care for. Customs officials routinely come in for criticism, yet your own experience may vary by quite a bit. The Internet gives a disgruntled person a wide audience, but it doesn't necessarily provide the context to fully understand a situation. My best advice is to consult as wide a variety of sources as possible. I read Fromer's travel guides, magazines, and cruising guides. I search the Internet, chat on forums, and listen in to the radio nets. Often the best advice comes from someone you know and trust who has been there ahead of you. 5. Be adventurous. Can you train yourself to be adventurous? Yes! Let's say you've got two islands up ahead and you only have time to visit one. Choose the one where you don't know the language. You can always head north to sit out hurricane season, but why not head south instead? Get below 10 degrees latitude in the Caribbean and you're guaranteed a hurricane-free season. Everyone is headed to Barbecue Island--why not head for Isolation Cove instead? When planning where to go and what to do you need to question every step of the way. Deliberately choose to go against the grain, with the proper planning, from time to time. One problem with all the information we've gathered in item four above is that there is a vast and well-charted conventional wisdom out there. Boaters travel in herds from one favorite haunt to another. This is both good and bad. You can get your fix of cruising friends in the popular harbor, but then you know that if someplace is not well described there will be nobody there. Some folks go so far as to recommend using the coastal pilots, which often describe harbors of mostly commercial interest, though I have found them of somewhat limited use. In general, purely commercial harbors are dirty, busy, more prone to crime, and often lack interesting and safe things to do ashore. The bottoms of commercial harbors are usually filthy and covered with debris waiting to snag your anchor. There are exceptions that are worth visiting. New York harbor is intensely industrial, with every negative factor briefly outlined above, but it is also one of the most thrilling places to visit by boat. You will never forget passing by the Statue of Liberty or under the Brooklyn Bridge and up the East River through Hell's Gate. Keep in mind that in this day of heightened terrorist warnings you may find yourself not welcome around commercial places like oil and gas terminals, or freight docks. Commercial harbors will often have traffic control systems that must be followed. Don't just take the conventional wisdom as your guide. Charts often indicate interesting islands that have no description in the guidebooks. There may be offshore reefs that can be approached safely in calm weather where you can anchor and swim with no land in sight. We have dropped the hook in the Bahamas on offshore banks with no land in sight except for the bottom, seen through 20 feet of crystal clear water. Being adventurous does not mean being foolhardy or taking unnecessary risks. It means trying things that deliberately get you out of your comfort zone so hopefully you can find a new, expanded comfort zone. Leave harbor before dawn. Maybe sail overnight just for the pleasure of the overnight passage. One of my favorite things is to be out on the ocean with a full moon illuminating the night--weather permitting and well charted hazards all under control. It doesn't mean ignoring the warnings of local crime problems or diseases. It does mean dodging around the crime-ridden, pestilent harbor to get to the beautiful cove that is infrequently visited. Being adventurous also means going it alone at times and not just following the herd. Several times I have sat at anchor in Florida, waiting for the proper weather window to cross the Gulf Stream to the Bahamas. This is not a trivial matter. The Gulf Stream can get very nasty and dangerous when a strong north wind opposes the northerly current--boats are lost every year trying to fight the stream. However, a group think soon develops in the harbor. Everyone talks about weather, and certain gurus soon take over the bulk of the analysis. Many grow to depend on the weather prognostications of the few, and finally, hopefully, the day comes when boat A says it is time to go. Everyone goes. Of course, boat A may travel slower or faster than boat B, may have a better or worse motion, or may be able to motor better or worse in calm winds. Other times, the boats don't leave for weeks. Every day has some possible weather scenario that might not be right for one of the boats in the fleet. The weather gurus become more and more cautious as more and more people depend on them to get it right. Some people have sat like this for months waiting for the day. The right weather for one is not the right weather for all. Don't let the group make your decisions for you. Be adventurous.
Go With the Flow
Having spent most of the last two years cruising around the Caribbean, I get a lot of questions from folks about proposed routes and schedules. Unfortunately, a lot of the time I have to shoot down others' ideas on this subject, because winds, currents, and seasons just won't cooperate. It may be that someone is on the coast of Venezuela and they get the idea they want to return to Florida by the shortest route, in the middle of the winter (you know who you are!). This just isn't a good idea. Winter winds and seas between Venezuela, Colombia, Jamaica, and Cuba are just brutal--I'm talking about 30+ knots and 15+ foot seas. That's not my idea of cruising. You might be able to wait and wait and eventually get weather windows, but you might not. It is just not worth it fighting the elements like that. On our way south, we were late leaving Florida (May) and had to push south towards Panama quickly in order to beat the start of the hurricane season. As it was, we had a long, slow slog to windward, fighting the Caribbean Current half the way, with thunderstorms harassing us constantly. I would never do that again. The season's first tropical depression formed just after passing over us as a tropical wave--we were lucky to not have worse. The best voyaging advice I can give is to buy an old book like a '60s or '70's version of Hart and Stone's
Cruising Guide to the Caribbean, written prior to everyone having GPS, SSB, and powerful engines. The winds and currents haven't changed and their advice is the best I've found. Back that up with a full set of
pilot charts for the area you're in and don't try to micromanage your weather by squeaking between systems and going against the odds. Have fun!
Land life is hectic!
Boy, we are busy now that we're back living on land again. The kids are both in soccer, Leslie is teaching dance, and I'm working full time during the week and on the weekends to make ends meet. Don't let anyone tell you cruising is expensive--at least not compared to land life! At least for us, when we go cruising we get rid of cars, car insurance, repairs and maintenance for the cars, registrations, inspections, lessons, after-school activities, repairs to the house, winter clothes, boots, snow shovels, colds, and endless little drains on the checkbook that add up to a big drain on the finances. One of the questions we are always asked is how we could afford to go. Now I wonder how we can afford to come back. Cruising costs really do vary by how much you have to spend. In other words, you spend what you've got. But, I can guarantee you that it can be much less expensive than your land life--maybe half as much or less. That's what we found. Plus, we were able to eat out a lot more, go to more interesting events, and visit fabulous places that would normally be out of our vacation budgets. In Colombia it was probably cheaper for us to eat out than it is to eat at home here in the U.S.! So, don't let money worries hold you back. Oh, yes, you don't need a $200K boat to do it. Our boat cost around $55K and then we put a lot of hard work and some money into it, but I know I could have done it for less than half. The expensive stuff is all the modern gizmos that you don't really need. Approach any new piece of equipment like it is a possible thief--stealing your time and money. Some people like fixing stuff and having all the toys, but I don't think they have any more fun because of it. In fact, I always think the ones having the most fun are at the low end of the economic ladder. The little old boats are the ones that seem to always be on the move with smiling faces onboard. Maybe it's because they tend to be young, but we met some older folks on small boats who were really happy. A lot of the folks on bigger more luxurious boats only kept going for a few years, before they sold up and moved on to something else. I think worrying about a $200-$300K investment that is not very secure is too much for many people. Go small, go now!
Reentry successful
Minke is now safely moored in Rhode Island and we're safely moored in Saratoga Springs. Land life is very hectic after living with the schedule of the wind and tides for two years. Our lives are now governed by clocks and date books. Oh, yes--and the new puppy! Reflecting back on some earlier posts, I thought it is time to update a few thoughts. My switch to the "dark side" of computing, when I got myself a new Toshiba laptop to replace my Apple iBook, has been just about entirely successful. It has now been eight months since I fired up the Toshiba and I still get frustrated at how long it takes Windoze to wake up. But, once the windows are open I've generally enjoyed the view. There are lots of great programs available that really do work as well as Apple stuff, though in many cases they don't look as slick. I'm particularly happy with the availability of great free stuff like Open Office, Avast antivirus, Opera and Firefox browsers, and Skype. When we first moved ashore I used Skype as my main phone, which saved me a ton of money and allowed me to stay in touch until Verizon could get the landline going, though I was at times frustrated by poor call quality. Though I have a fast cable connection, Skype just doesn't cut it for day-to-day use due to the poor quality and more complicated calling interface. Still, if you're out cruising, get a Skype phone number so people can call you using regular land lines, use Skype Out to call those landlines, and try to get your family and friends on Skype so you can make those cheap calls when you're really far away. Because almost everybody and everything utilizes PCs there is a comfortable feeling that no matter what comes along you can take advantage of it. With Apples I was always waiting for the Apple version of something, or else emailing developers pleading for them to create an Apple version. There are advantages to being in the mainstream. I'll have more updates on old blogs coming. Right now I have to get to work on the update of our ICW Chartbook.
I love the ICW!
We just finished a mad dash north from Beaufort, North Carolina, to Hampton, Virginia. All of it was inside on the Intracoastal Waterway (ICW), and once again I think that is my favorite stretch of the Waterway. In 205 statute miles you get a taste of everything: narrow channels with opening bridges and locks to negotiate, historic and welcoming towns, free docks, wide-open bays and sounds where the sails go up, deserted anchorages where you wonder what the rest of the world is doing, and endless bird and wildlife viewing. We made our record day ever on the ICW--99 statute miles. I didn't add it all up until after the hook was down or else I might have tried for that last mile to get to the century mark. There are advantages to a motorsailor. Minke cruises at a comfortable 7+ mph, and we can crank it up to near 8 mph at times if we need to catch a restricted bridge opening. Plus, we've got the tankage to go more than 500 miles without refueling, which speeds things up too. It's great to see that in general this stretch of the ICW is just as beautiful and just as friendly to boaters as it was 22 years ago on our first trip. We anchored out in Beaufort, in a somewhat shrunken anchoring space, enjoying the free use of a nice dinghy dock right in the center of things. The maritime museum has discontinued their free courtesy car, but we found that a taxi ride from the grocery store was only about $5, which is different than in Florida where you might be better off renting a car in most towns. Then we went up to Goose Creek, just north of Hobucken. After a last few hours in blinding thunderstorms (our pilothouse kept us cozy and dry), we anchored for the night in Campbell Creek. We were the only boat in there, but I could see one other sailboat over in Eastham Creek and one trawler anchored further north on Goose Creek--a crowd for that part of the ICW. We had a calm trip across the Pamlico River and up the Pungo River, where I was happy to see a dredge working on the shallows around the Wilkerson Bridge. The Alligator River was a nice motorsail and we just squeaked across Albemarle Sound before some brief thundersqualls swept by. We then anchored north of Buck Island just before sunset. That was the end of our 99-mile day, and it was fun! We stopped at Coinjock to get cheap diesel, and we spent some bucks on nice stuff in the Coinjock Marina store. My daughter bought a fleece jacket, guaranteeing blazingly hot weather, which I am now melting in here in Hampton, Virginia. All of the bridge and lock restrictions are a pain in the Norfolk area, with the timing of the Centerville Turnpike Bridge and the Steel Bridge (only once an hour!) really boloxing up your schedule. We rain through on a Sunday, which helped, as some of the bridges aren't restricted on weekends and holidays. As usual in Norfolk we had to dodge huge ships, tugs, barges, and Navy vessels, while helicpopters and jets swooped overhead. There were reports of an airplane down in Norfolk harbor and an 83-foot boat adrift near the bridge-tunnel. A typical day in Norfolk.
We're back!
We're back! We had an uneventful, but long, motoring trip back from Isla Mujeres. We had to await the passage of a lot of tropical squalls, which eventually turned into Barry just north of us. I'm glad we waited. At times the see was as calm as a bathtub, but Minke's powerful motor kept churning along and we were soon arriving in the Dry Tortugas, where we overnighted. The Yucatan current was hard to find and follow. We had some waypoints that Chris Parker provided to another cruiser, but they didn't prove to be much good. For much of the trip we had only a half knot or so of favorable current, and then at the end, when we were supposed to have almost nothing we had a wonderful two-knot boost. In short, don't believe the pilot charts or the government current charts found on the Navy site. I think the best advice is to head almost directly to the Dry Tortugas at first, letting the Yucatan current carry you northward of the rhumb line, and then gradually angle over to the east after you pass 85 longitude. In any case, we had a smooth, fast trip. We left the Dry Tortugas with a weather report of scattered showers and thunderstorms, which soon became continuous and stayed that way all day. In fact, I think it was the worst one-day weather of our entire two-year cruise. Visibility was near zero most of the day, winds were gusting well over 40 knots, rain was torrential, and the seas became six-foot monsters, with huge holes in between. Again, Minke's powerful engine came into play as most the wind was dead on the nose for getting to Key West. We lumped and slogged our way along all day, anchoring at 8 PM just west of Wisteria Island off of Key West. The next morning we went ashore to clear into the U.S.A. and we were surprised to find you can't bring any electronics into the court building, not even a cell phone or a camera. Of course my 1.5-inch pocket knife couldn't go either. We felt like criminals heading off to jail. They had no facilities for holding all this stuff, which I always carry with me, so Leslie had to wait outside while I went in with the children. Then we switched places while they asked Leslie questions. In no other part of the Caribbean were we treated like this when clearing in or out. I don't think the answer to the supposed "war on terrorism" is to restrict all of our own rights! If we do that, the terrorists have already won, because that's what they want us to do.
Where is everybody?
We´re now on Isla Mujeres, Mexico, awaiting a break in the weather to sail back to the Florida Keys. We´ve just sailed north from the Rio Dulce in Guatemala, through Belize, and then up the coast of Mexico. These are beautiful cruising areas, with gorgeous coral reefs, friendly ports, and plenty of nice things to do ashore. What has struck us the most is the lack of cruisers. We only saw one other cruising boat on the entire Mexican coast between Xcalak and Isla Mujeres--and that was in a week of harbor hopping. In Belize we were frequently the only boat in gorgeous anchorages, or maybe we shared them with two or three others. At Half Moon Cay on Lighthouse Reef we saw two other cruising boats. So, if you get tired of trying to shoehorn your way into crowded anchorages, head down here to the Northwest Caribbean and join the few of us down here--we´d love to see you!
Go to Tikal!
We had a great trip from the San Blas to Providencia Island, then the Vivorillos, Honduras, and on to the Rio Dulce in Guatemala. The first leg to Providencia was made with a reef in the main the whole way, hard on the wind with spray flying over the boat. Minke did well, but for some reason we were pumping a lot of bilge water the whole way. We arrived in Providencia just at dusk. As usual, the welcome in Providencia was very friendly. The port agent there, Mr. Bush, arranged a soccer match between our cruising kids and the locals--our kids got whupped! Clear in and check out was very easy, and the total charge for everything was $40.
We stayed with Kalani and Lightfoot on the leg to the Vivorillos Cays, a coral reef with a couple of small islands. There were rumors of mysterious fishing boats approaching too closely at night, so when this very thing happened to Lightfoot they called us on the VHF and asked us to close ranks. However, as far as we could tell, all of the boats we saw were just fishing. I've seen the same sort of thing in New England and other waters. Fishermen are not watching you or anything other than their nets. They then appear to be operating oddly when they approach too closely, when in reality they are trying to steer the net around some obstruction. In any case, no pirates for us, though another boat nearby was boarded and inspected by the Nicaraguan Coast Guard. The moral of the story is to pass east of Media Luna and stay close to Gorda Bank to avoid fishing boats, pirates, and possible Coast Guard encounters.
The Vivorillos were just an overnight stop to catch our breath then on to Guanaja, where the check in (contrary to some rumors) was easy and free. The tiny town, with a population density something like Hong Kong, is a fascinating maze of narrow walkways and shops. We were surprised by the wide variety of goods available and the very friendly welcome as we had heard nothing about the place. I even got an alternator rewound by sending it off to the mainland overnight via plane, for a total charge of about $50, including a new rectifier. The large fishing fleet means that marine services are pretty good for this part of the Caribbean. On Guanaja we really enjoyed visiting Graham's Place on tiny Josh's Cay. The island resort is very welcoming to cruisers with free moorings, water, ice, pet parrots and other creatures, a neat pool with turtles, sharks, and groupers, and a nice restaurant.
The trip to Roatan was uneventful, and again we were really happy to visit a big grocery store complete with ATM machine and lots of U.S. products. West End on Roatan is a diver's paradise, and snorkelers enjoy it too. Right behind our boat was one of the best reef snorkles we've had in the Caribbean. We also enjoyed walking the narrow sandy street and doing all the touristy things.
We had a perfect forecast for the 150-mile run to the Rio Dulce, except the wind never appeared. Minke's big engine ate up the miles and we crossed the Rio bar just after dawn. About one hour after low tide our 5.5-foot draft just squeaked across with no bumping. Livingston officials soon came out to visit us, then we trekked all over town to complete the business of checking in, all for around $80. We were soon motoring up the "canyon" of the Rio Dulce, where steep cliffs covered in vines drop off into the river. It was very reminiscent of going up the Hudson River back home.
Mario's Marina found spaces for us just at dark and we were soon enjoying the cold comforts of the pool and the bar. Dragging the kids away from the Internet was tough, but we hired a van to take us to Tikal to see the Mayan ruins. The van was comfortable, the roads were smooth and safe, the hotel was comfy, and the tour guide was informative. It was a fantastic trip! The temples loom out of the jungle, just like you've always dreamed of lost civilizations. Unlike the U.S., we were allowed to scramble up the pyramids via rickety ladders and slippery stone stairs--not for the vertigo impaired! Our kids are now writing about their experiences and what they learned about Mayan civilization. Go to Tikal!
Kuna Yala Tales
Kuna Yala Tales
Kuna Yala is the part of Panama controlled by the Kuna Indians. They govern their own territory independently under the umbrella of the Panama nation. Most land is owned in common and people share duties, resources, and equipment. Tomorrow is Kuna independence day, marking the day in 1925 that a rebellion against repressive Panamanian rule began. Though the second smallest race on earth (after the pygmies) Kunas are universally very strong and fit due to endless paddling and hiking to get their daily hunter-gathering work done. In 1925 the Kunas slaughtered the Panamanian police forces and killed off mixed race people as well. Only the intervention of the U.S. Navy prevented Panama from retaliating with serious military might, which might have been the end of the Kuna people. In a series of political moves over many decades, the Kunas have gradually gained more and more independence in governing their nation.
We've come to a more traditional island, Isla Tigre, to witness the independence festivities. At the moment Leslie and the kids are ashore enjoying (I hope!) a traditional puberty festival that precedes the independence activities on Sunday. Kuna society is matrilineal and the men play a secondary role mainly as hunter-gatherers. When a girl reaches puberty the whole village celebrates in a day-long rite of chicha drinking, dancing, and socializing. Soon everyone on the island is reeling around drunk and enjoying themselves. We understand that families start saving up for this celebration the moment a girl is born. I've decided to skip this traditional festival. I'm not wild about crowds and drunk crowds give me the willies—I'll get the play-by-play from Leslie later.
We're traveling in company with Kalani, a catamaran with two kids the right ages for Ian and Heather to hang out with. The other day we took our two dinghies up the Rio Diablo, deep into the jungle. The river was very shallow and full of snags and fallen trees. It was very reminiscent of paddling up the Kayaderosseras River back home, if you ignored the alligators. Finally, we reached an area that was too shallow to continue without lots of dragging across sandbars, so we pulled up the dinghies and jumped in for a wonderful freshwater bath. We were surrounded by primeval jungle, millions of polliwogs, and lots of young frogs. Parrots were chattering in the trees, but we didn't see any monkeys. We did see lots of birds that will require our bird books to figure out what they were.
Last week we were over in the East Lemmons for a Kuna dance demonstration and langousta cookout on the beach. Leslie was in seventh heaven and we were able to film a lot of dancing. Often the Kunas don't want their photos taken, or else they demand a dollar to take a shot, so it was great to be on an island where they didn't mind photography. We had a wonderful sail from the Lemmons back to the area we call the Swimming Pool, which is the cruisers' favorite hangout. There is an island there we call BBQ Island, where every Monday cruisers get together for a potluck dinner and giant trash burning. Unfortunately, a huge rainstorm blasted through just after we lit the bonfire, which quickly became a huge smoke pot as we all ran for our dinghies. Some of the boaters dashed into the kids fort they had built under the palm trees, complete with a good thatched roof. The local Kuna caretaker, Edwina, is very friendly and he encourages the kids to come and play on the island. When we're in the area we bring him a little treat of cookies, or some sort of food, and say hello.
We're finding that we know a fair number of Kunas too. Onshore we ran into a family that we met last summer on the Coco Banderos Islands. Families are rotated around the various islands to take care of the coconuts and maintain the islands, and to gain access to new fishing grounds. This group remembered Leslie from her dance and singing routines on the beach, and for the day we towed some of them to safety during a storm. Leslie was quickly surrounded by dozens of Kunas all wanting to meet her and to introduce their extended families. It is an interesting experience for Leslie (all 5' 2" of her) to tower over the crowd. Ian, who is now taller than Leslie, gets lots of odd looks. He is taller than everyone. Kids his age look like grade schoolers next to Ian, and Heather fits right in with some of the adults. I am constantly banging my head on low overhangs, rafters, and branches that are cut just high enough for the average Kuna. Entering a store gives me a crick in the neck because I usually have to stoop the entire time.
On the boating front the big news is the salvage of After You, a 35-footer that sunk after being towed off a reef. The singlehander (all by himself) came in from offshore late and tired and decided to anchor on Mayflower Reef, a shallow area studded with coral heads. He let out all his chain and some nylon rode, which eventually was cut through by the coral. There was a large sea running which pushed him rapidly onto a reef further to the south, where the boat pounded for at least a day. Rescuers soon gathered and plucked the sailor off the boat. In a situation like that the laws of salvage come into play, and essentially the salvagers get to keep the boat if they save it, or they get paid by the owner to get the boat back. (Never accept a tow on the water unless it is clear that you are not agreeing to a salvage claim.) Towlines were rigged and the boat was dragged off into deep water but rapidly filled from damage on the starboard side. In fact, the boat went down so quickly that several people onboard had to swim for their lives. It sank in 160 feet of water. From there a local trader with a big shrimp boat managed to dive down, secure a towline on the craft, and then drag it into shallow water. A fiberglass patch was applied and the boat was refloated. I took a quick tour of the craft and it looks pretty good for a boat that was on the bottom for a week. The interesting thing is that items containing air were crushed flat by the pressure at 160 feet. The cockpit cushions looked like slices of cheese. The salvager has made some deal with the former owner who is now off to Mexico to look at buying a new boat—jump right back on the horse after it throws you! After You will be towed to Cartagena for a rebuild and then sale.
We also had a fun time obtaining water at Rio Azucar. This tiny island has organized a pipeline from the river to a small water tower, which then feeds pipes that run down to the public wharf. The town earns a bit of money by selling water to sailors and others. We sailed in only to find an inter-island freighter tied to the wharf, but they waved us in and we rafted alongside. Everyone was very friendly and excited to see us, but no water was available for some reason to do with washing laundry?! We bought a few good veggies and decided to try again the next day. The next day we arrived at the wharf and tied up alongside a big dugout, who soon decided to leave, causing another fire drill. But, no water available again, due to it being Sunday. Aargh! We left the dock but the crowd started shouting "Agua, agua!" So we circled back, and then we could hear everyone sigh, then shout "No agua, no agua," just as we reached the wharf. We took off again, then everyone started shouting again: "Agua, agua!" Were they playing a game with us?
Back to the wharf we went, but this time we could see the secretary showing up to take our money ($5 for dockage, $10 for all the water we could hold) and we tied up. Then we discovered that the regular pipe had no water pressure, but a 2" PVC pipe could create a gusher. The problem was to connect our garden hose to the big pipe. Lots of rags and lines later, and two Kunas holding the lash up together, and we were golden. We took on lots of water and were almost full up when a little child decided to turn up the water pressure, which blew out our temporary lash up sending a geyser over the laughing crowd. Finally, we were just about done
when a missionary boat showed up (this was Sunday) and wanted to dock outside of us. We didn't want missionaries tramping back and forth over our boat all day, so we waved them off with shouts of "cinco minutos!" We dashed around coiling hoses, paying off our helpers, undoing lines, and off we went with half the town shouting and waving goodbye. We were the entertainment for the day.
San Blas navigation
I'm hoping this gets through to the blog. I'm sending the update using email via my Iridium phone, but I have no way of checking what it looks like until we get someplace with Internet access--none of that here in the San Blas Islands. Lots of boats are going up on the reefs this year. At least one boat was lost. He had tons of electronics, and the boat was a good one with lots of solid equipment. I will not speculate or second guess what happened, but I will warn others that you can't fool around with navigation here in the San Blas. This area demands respect. There are no buoys, lights, or other navigation aids. The charts and guides are fairly accurate, but nothing like what you are used to coming from the U.S., the East Caribbean, or even the Bahamas. Landfalls and harbors must be entered in good light only, even if you have borrowed waypoints or your own. If you arrive from offshore after dark, heave-to outside or head offshore until daylight. If you travel between harbors, don't leave until around 10AM, and plan to be back at anchor by around 4PM at the latest, 2PM being better. In short, you need high sun to safely navigate the San Blas, and if you don't have it you have to use every technique in the book
to stay safe. Don't depend on your electronic chart plotter and radar to do that for you. Some of the charts are inaccurate, latitude/longitudes are off, coral grows, and shoals shift. Go slow and go safe!
Kettlewells in San Blas
Cartagena to the San Blas Islands
The Minke crew is once again underway. We left Cartagena, Colombia after four enjoyable months. It is a beautiful city with friendly people, and it is generally safe despite what you may hear. To get Minke ready for more voyaging we had her hauled out of the water at Club de Pesca on a contraption called a synchrolift. It consists of a platform that the boat is floated onto. Arms on either side hold the boat upright while it sits on its keel. Then the whole platform is winched up out of the water vertically with the boat on it. In Colombia you pay the boatyard for the haulout then you contract separately with your own workers. On the recommendation of a friend staying in Club de Pesca, we hired two men, Escuardo and Manuel, to help us clean and paint Minke's bottom. The going rate was 40,000 pesos per person per day, which we gladly paid (less than $20 U.S.), as these guys were excellent workers. After four months in Cartagena harbor water, our bottom looked like an aquaculture project. Great strings of muscles were scraped off only to reveal thick barnacles below. However, it was all soon cleaned off and several coats of red antifouling paint (laced with copper) were applied. The topsides were cleaned and polished, the dinghy was cleaned up and the wood parts painted, we installed a new hydraulic steering cylinder (thanks to Dad bringing it to us when he visited), and we installed a new seacock to help the cockpit drain better. We relaunched on New Year's Eve, just in time to be back in the water anchored off of Club Nautico for the big event.
New Year's Eve and day are even bigger holidays than Christmas. We went to the old part of the city known as Centro and all the streets were closed off. Restaurants were setting up tables in the middle of the streets where they would begin serving expensive prix fixe meals at around 9 PM. The major squares in town were jammed with revelers, drinking and dancing. In places we had to squeeze single file between crowds to get through. A group of us with kids wandered around until we found a gourmet sandwich shop that was serving food before 9 PM, then we all went to our favorite spot, Crepes and Waffles, for a delicious ice cream desert. We hiked back to Club Nautico to arrive just in time to see from the docks the fireworks at midnight.
After New Years we began to gradually stock up the boat with food and spare parts sufficient for the next several months. We ordered fresh meat from the butcher who then kept it for a few days so it would be hard frozen. We purchased 30 eggs which had to be hand carried (very carefully) though the streets of Cartagena back to Club Nautico. Since the supermarket was just one block from the Club, we tried to daily bring back to the boat extras of everything. We made many trips heavily laden with bags.
We also began a serious study of the weather offshore from Cartagena. The winter winds had really kicked in, and typically were up to 30 knots on many days with seas running up to 15 feet. This is typical for this time of year, so we had to be patient and wait for a small window of opportunity to escape. This is what sailors call a ?weather window.? Originally we were planning to sail direct to Providencia Island, about 395 miles to the northwest of Cartagena, but the weather on that route was consistently atrocious for weeks at a time. Finally, we decided to loop south below the worst of the wind and seas by sailing first to the Rosario Islands (20 miles) and then on to the San Blas Islands (175 miles). From the San Blas we could still get a decent wind angle on Providencia (275 miles) and hopefully find a weather window big enough to jump through. Plus, we love the San Blas!
Our trip to the Rosarios went smoothly except for a brief boarding and inspection by the Colombian Coast Guard. We had checked out of the country and our papers and passports were all in order. The Rosarios belong to Colombia but it is acceptable to stop there for a few days when exiting or leaving the country. They are beautiful tropical islands that are frequented by tourists arriving by boat from Cartagena. Leslie, Heather, and Ian enjoyed visiting a free aviary owned by a wealthy Colombian. They saw birds from all over the world as they wandered around all by themselves. We also took the time to carefully stow everything for the offshore trip, and we got a final check on the improving weather. Our window was small, but hopeful. It called for gradually easing winds and seas Wednesday through Saturday, then back up to the near gale conditions again.
We set sail at first light and had to motor until about 3:30 PM with no wind, but that was fine by us as it allowed Minke to get well offshore and into safe deep water. The big northeast swells began to be felt, coming from the howling winds to our north. We were soon running downwind in 6-9 foot seas, but relatively comfortably though the self steering couldn't hold the course. Friends of ours on Morning Star sailed nearby much of the way and it was nice to talk to someone on the radio from time to time. Finally, in the middle of the night we were able to get the windvane steering to work as the wind angle had improved and the seas moderated. The big swells continued to roll under us, but the wind waves on top were less. As we approached the San Blas Islands the next day the wind began to build and build, gradually coming more and more into the northwest, which was not predicted. Weather reports out here are vague at best, covering hundreds or thousands of square miles. We were probably experiencing a land-effect wind generated by the high mountains backing the coast of the San Blas.
We began to pick up radio transmissions from some of our friends already safely anchored in the San Blas, and we were soon talking to them. It was interesting that they could see our sail coming from offshore before we could see land or them. The islands are very low and indistinct and we had the setting sun in our eyes. We were soon roaring in the Caobos Channel, occasionally surfing on the big swells. Because of the big seas, we had to detour well to the south of the Hollandes, our destination, before heading back up towards the islands. Some of the big swells were breaking on shoal patches along the direct route. Our friends kept telling us to hurry as night was rapidly approaching, and it is not safe to navigate coral waters in the dark. There are no buoys or navigation lights in the San Blas, and where we were headed there are no lights ashore.
We had been into the anchorage before, known as the Swimming Pool, so we had some GPS waypoints that helped guide us to a safe spot where we dropped the hook just before dark. The wind howled in the rigging, but we were comfortably at anchor. The next day we moved our anchorage to near BBQ Island, the local cruiser hangout. Soon we were visiting and talking to our many friends from Cartagena who were already there. Soon our friends on Kalani arrived with friends for Ian and Heather and then more kids arrived on another cat. The kids ran around BBQ Island playing tag, building a fort, and conducting hermit crab races. Everyone got together on Monday for a big potluck dinner and garbage burn (the only way to get rid of stuff) under the palm trees and a brilliant moon. We're back in cruising heaven!
Goodbye to Cartagena
The jerry jugs are full and the tanks are loaded. The lockers are crammed with food and spares. It is once again time to set sail for a new destination--if we can get a decent weather window. This time of year is tough in the southwest Caribbean. The forecast is calling for 25- to 30-knot winds and big seas north of 10 north, and 15-20 with 7- to 9-foot seas south of 10 north. That's about as good as it gets in the winter, so we'll be shoving off in the morning for a short trip to the Rosario Islands, then a 170-mile run to the San Blas the next couple of days. Hopefully, it will be just one night at sea and hopefully conditions will improve as we get further south. Many ask what we are using for weather forecasts down here. I find the NOAA weather fax charts (24, 48, and 72 hours) very useful, and I also get the offshore waters text forecast for the SW North Atlantic and Caribbean Sea. I occasionally glance at the virtual buoy predictions on buoyweather.com, but I think they are interpolating finer results than the data warrants. Others use weather routers and listen to weather nets on the SSB, but again these sources tend to micro-interpret the weather to greater detail than is possible with the data available. I think most cruisers agonize over the weather more than is necessary, and they have lost the ability to think for themselves. Get a decent forecast for the beginning of the trip, avoid any predicted severe weather, and don't trust any forecast more than three days out--it is nothing more than wishful thinking.
Getting ready to leave
We're finally getting ready to leave Cartagena, after a great stay of four months. The first big project to tackle was the aquaculture project growing on the bottom of our boat. Our last bottom job dated from August 2005, and Cartagena waters are famed for their fertility (at least for barnacles and muscles). We had hired divers to scrape the bottom a few times, to avoid the unpleasant task of swimming in toxic waste, though I had to go over the side a few times myself to open up plugged through hulls and clear the propellor. We finally decided on going to the synchrolift at Club de Pesca. This is a platform that one floats onto, which is then raised vertically out of the water by a system of winches and cables. Steel arms are raised on either side of the boat at bow and stern to provide support, but the weight of the boat rests on the keel. To ensure proper alignment two divers entered the water to guide the keel onto a central steel beam. A maze of docklines helped keep us vertical. Once we finally got into the lift (Colombian time!) the whole process went smoothly. We hired two local hands, Manuel and Escuardo, to help with the scraping and painting, and they worked very hard and well. In fact, the whole operation was very professional, helping to make an unpleasant process as painless as possible. The final price was very reasonable--probably the cheapest haul and launch ever for this cruiser. That was step one in the long process of readying Minke for a rough offshore passage.
Switching to the Dark Side
I´ve owned and used Apples since the old Apple II days. Remember those tiny black & white screens with nothing but text? Wow, they did amazing things, having grown up in the pre-computer, pound it out on a manual typewriter, era. I was pretty good at typing (on a typewriter) after college because you didn´t dare make an error or you had to retype the entire page! That´s when I learned to think first, type later, which is exactly opposite to what today´s computer users do, if the Internet is any indication. Well over the years I used, abused, and learned to love and hate a long string of PCs and Apples. I really loved my $3000 Powerbook 180 maxed out with 8 mb of RAM. In fact, I still have it and I fire it up periodically to remember the joys of System 7. I bought one of the first iMacs. It was so cool and blue. Then, when we took off to go cruising for a few years I got a neat new 12-inch iBook to have for onboard writing and some navigation with GPS NavX. It worked great until it stopped working great one day a couple of months ago, but the seeds of disatisfaction had been sprouting for most of the last year. First I discovered there was no software for allowing speedy email services like GMN or Ocens to work with my Iridium phone. Then I found out that there weren´t a whole lot of charts available for GPS NavX, at least outside of the U.S. Then I discovered that when things go wrong with an Apple outside the U.S., you are on your own. Every third world country has PC repair guys on every other street corner, but Apple folks are nonexistant. Need something ordinary like a new hard drive--forget it with an Apple. So Apples violated one of my hard and fast cruising rules--don´t have it onboard if you can´t either fix it in Timbuktoo by yourself, or if you can´t live without it. So, I´m going over to the dark side and getting a new PC laptop. I hope it isn´t too scary over there.
Happy Thanksgiving
Yes, we do celebrate Thanksgiving, and most other holidays, out here. Sometimes there's a mad search for a turkey--what is the word for turkey in Spanish? You get some funny looks as you flap your arms and gobble to the butcher. We were resigned to getting a nice roast chicken--preferably roasted by someone else to avoid heating the boat up--but Club Nautico marina saved the day by planning a big Thanksgiving bash, complete with five turkeys and all the fix'ins. Our family will be a bit bigger than usual this year. They'll be from all over the world. Some friends counted 27 different countries represented by boats in the anchorage and in the marina. Maybe we don't really have United Nations, but when it comes to a party, cruisers are of one mind. Bring on the food, bring on the drinks, bring on the dancing! Colombians are of the same mind. Mention a holiday or a special occasion and Colombia breaks out the streamers, the live music, and the smiles. The country has a lot to cry about, so it makes up for it by laughing a little bit longer and harder when the chance presents itself. Holdiays are good here.
It is different out here
Cruisers are different. I look at our children. They are not segregated by age or grade level in school. The teenagers play with the young ones. The English-speaking kids play tag with the French and Dutch kids. The Colombians love to talk to the English-speaking kids, everyone struggling to understand but enjoying the struggle. The kids don't hold back--they shout, "Look, there are kids on that boat, let's go over and say Hi!" The adults are the same. Some wear neat khakis and polo shirts, but they're likely to be having beers with a group that looks like pirates, with torn T-shirts and no shoes. If there's an emergency there is no hesitation. Boats converge on the boat that is dragging anchor and tow it out to safe water, even though the owners are ashore somewhere. Someone needs to go to the emergency room and we all open our wallets to lend her money, even though we have never met and don't even know her name. We have no doubt she will pay us back. It might be days or weeks, but she will pay us back. She would do the same for us. I once had someone toss me a $250 engine part as his boat passed by--I found him two days later and returned the part--he never learned my name or even where I was headed. What goes around comes around.
You want to tear your hair out!
It gets very frustrating trying to do the simplest boat projects out here. There are four major places to get hauled here in Cartagena. I liked the look of Club de Pesca's lift. It would be gentle on the boat, close to the water for a bit cooler temperatures, and we'd be the only boat around so we wouldn't have to eat other's sanding dust. Well, they have a three-week waiting list. So I'm off to my second choice, Manzanillo Marina Club, to see if they can get us in quicker. Of course, their tiny lift requires us to unrig the roller furler and forestay--at least--and maybe undo some of the mizzen rigging. At least they have a pressure washer, which the other yards don't have. Of course, there is an extra fee for that, and we have to negotiate prices with other teams of workers for various jobs. First I need to get some antifouling paint. I wanted blue, but that is almost unavailable. The last two cans were taken at the Hempel dealer. Plus Hempel's prices were sky high. So I found someone who could get Sigma at a discount, but only in red. Yuck! I wanted black as my second choice, but now I'm down to my third reluctant choice. Oh yes, the boatyards will only take payments in cash, which of course is dangerous to carry around in large amounts. A French couple was relieved of about $5000 last week while on their way to pay a boatyard bill. Their taxi was stopped at gunpoint, so someone tipped off the thieves. The saga will continue...
I'm back!
The marine climate is tough on computers and electronics and Cartagena's climate is tougher than most. My laptop seems to be gradually succumbing, while I madly try to back up what I can during the 30 minutes or so of operation I get before it crashes. Then I wait a day before getting another 30 minutes of normal computing. Aargh! The only slight consolation is that just about everyone else in the cruising fleet seems to be going through the same contortions with their computers. Today's cruisers' radio net brought a call for help with a balky Pactor modem connection (for SSB email). Yesterday someone was looking for a computer cable to replace a busted one. A friend has retired his monitor after the first one expired. And, this stuff isn't easy to get here in Cartagena. I don't dare have something shipped in as it may not arrive, and if it does the cost to get it will be very high. I was quoted $80 to have a one-pound package sent via FedEx, which is the only reliable shipper. My advice is to make sure you have at least two computers onboard and have reliable backups for critical things like charts or email. I carry paper charts and print paper backups for electronic charts. I also have Web access to my email. If my computers totally fail I can get email from an Internet cafe or someone else's computer. Back up! Back up!
Life on the hook
Life on the hook is generally good. We prefer to lie on our anchors, while some like to tie up in the floating ghetto known as a marina. It's a nice ghetto, but it is still a ghetto. In other words I like to be able to toss a cold cup of coffee overboard without dousing my neighbor. I like to get up in the middle of the night to check out the weather in my underwear. I like to lie on the deck and enjoy the cool evening breeze. I don't like telling someone to please stop fiberglassing at 10 PM. I don't like asking someone to please drown your dog before I do it. I don't like joining the party unless I want to join. Sure, there are nights when I have to sleep in the cockpit to keep one eye on dragging boats, and my wife would love to have air conditioning. But, we do swing into the wind, when there is any, so we get whatever natural cooling there is. On the really hot days I don't see much of the marina folks--they stay huddled around their air conditioners. I do think that they get air conditioned bodies that melt when exposed to tropical air. You can see it on their faces--they're thinking "why did I come outside?" You participate in the weather when you live at anchor. If it's windy, you know it. When it's hot, you sweat. When it's sunny, you roast. But, you also get the best of the best moments. You wake up at dawn and see the sun rise, then you watch the sun set over the water while those ashore enjoy their air-conditioned cocktails and watch TV. I like the connection with nature. It's why I go boating. The bad times just make the good times seem that much better, and you get used to dealing with whatever is dished up, which makes the bad times gradually seem less and less bad. Got that?
Goodbye to an old friend
I've said goodbye to an old friend. He always held when the shit hit the fan, even if he required some careful handling from time to time. He was stronger than Hercules, shedding insults and injury like the superhero he was. But, he was getting long in the tooth. The new heros on the block took over long ago. The new boys don't rely on brute strength as much as guile. They outthink the baddies instead of clobbering them into submission. I like that, but there was always something reassuring about knowing you had the strongest friend on the block, even if he wasn't always the slickest character. My old friend was down there during Hurricane Gloria when the eye passed right over Katydid, taking most of the mooring field away with it. My old friend held. It was down there in the Storm of the Century in North Carolina. It was down there during the storm that later became the Perfect Storm when it went to the Grand Banks. It was down there in Hurricane Bob, with gusts over 100 blowing trees over the cabin top. He still has lots of his kin out there, and he will continue on cruising proudly on the bow of a neat French aluminum cruiser. Yep, I sold my last CQR anchor at a boater's flea market here in Cartagena. I wasn't going to let it go for a song--it was just as good as the day it was drop forged. But, I was tired of breaking toes (two this year) on it. I couldn't remember the last time I used it. It was nice to know it was there, but now my Bulwagga rides the place of honor on the bow roller, backed up by two Fortress secondaries. I feel secure with that trio, but who knows, maybe I'll see if a Spade or a Rocna can displace one of the gang.
Anchor in the middle
Someone swam out to our boat yesterday and apparently was trying to climb aboard (I was ashore with the dinghy) when my wife asked him what he was up to. He swam to shore and took off. We were anchored in a good spot in Cartagena, in nice shallow water close to shore with good holding. It was also convenient to the dinghy dock at Club Nautico, but it was obviously too convenient for those on shore who might be interested in checking out how the rich gringos live. Of course, we have no idea what he was up to, and I suppose it could have been an innocent swimmer who was getting a bit tired, but we doubt it. So we moved to a spot where we could drop the anchor in 12 meters of water in the midst of the cruising fleet. We’re now surrounded by friendly eyes and ears, and Colombian Coast Guard patrols pass nearby. Hopefully, that’s all we’ll need to do to feel safer. Usually, making yourself a slightly more difficult target than the next boat is all you need to do to be safe. Lock the dinghy and they’ll go for the unlocked dinghy. Close the hatches and they’ll go for the boat left open. Put away the loose gear and they’ll choose the boat with tempting items in plain view. Anchor in the midst of the cruising fleet and they’ll go for the boat in the isolated cove where no one is watching. Luckily, cruisers are a very observant and helpful lot, and they tend to watch what is happening on other boats, if only to make sure the other boat isn’t dragging anchor. That can be a real safety plus if security is a concern.
Iridium for email
I opted for sending and receiving email via an Iridium phone, instead of using SSB or Ham systems. One of the reasons was that we were pushing the hurricane season and we didn't have enough time for the difficult installation of an SSB radio, groundplane, antenna, tuner, etc. Another was cost. I could be up and running with Iridium for less than $2000, and no installation fees. Well, like most things marine, the cost was more than I planned. The biggest problem was coming up with a connection between the serial port on the Iridium phone and the USB ports on my computer. After trying several different USB/serial adaptors, with none of them working, I purchased a PCMCIA card with dedicated serial cord. That solved the connection problem. Another big expense was signing up for an email service provider. I could access my usual gmail or other account, but specialized providers have compression and other technologies that they claim greatly speed up email transfers. I ended up purchasing service from GMN, which I am generally satisfied with. A bonus is that when connected to WiFi ashore, the transfer of emails is blazingly fast. Onboard the transfer is pretty slow, but I have managed to send seven emails and receive 14 in about a minute and a half of airtime, which translates to about $1.50. I love getting emailed daily weather, even when offshore, and it is great to stay in touch with friends and family. So far I don't miss the SSB nets, but I can say they could be useful at times. Ideally, I would like to have an SSB and an Iridium phone, but I think our choice of Iridium first proved to be the correct one. A huge bonus is the capability to make phone calls from anywhere (even the life raft), though the cost is too high for casual use.
After One Year
Some good friends of ours, the Johnsons on Side by Side, are taking off on their catamaran this year. The other day I received an email asking me for my thoughts on gear after a year out here. Actually, it's not exactly correct to say we've been out for a year, as Leslie and I have been cruising off and on since around 1976. But we do have a new boat, to us, Minke, a Finnsailer 38 motorsailor. I sent the Johnsons my thoughts, but I've subsequently rethought things. So here are the best five things we brought and the five things we brought but didn't need:
Glad we have:
1. Inflatable kayaks for the kids--it gives them independence, and we have back up dinghies if the big inflatable is stolen.
2. Electronic chart plotting and charts for the PC--we've ended up going all sorts of places we didn't plan on going, and the electronic charts allowed us to do so. But, I always print out charts in case the electronics fail.
3. Bulwagga Anchor--never fails while other boats are dragging all around us.
4. Manual ABI anchor windlass--powerful and always works, but it is slow.
5. Lots of anchor chain--we sleep more soundly knowing the rode won't chafe through, and we can use less scope in tight anchorages.
You'll note there's a theme for a lot of that list. Your anchoring gear is probably the most important gear onboard. You'll be at anchor a lot more than underway, and you'll probably be in worse weather while at anchor then when offshore, if you're watching the weather like you should. Don't scrimp on anchoring gear.
Probably don't need:
1. Pressure cooker--Leslie has used it only once a month or so and it takes up a lot of stowage space.
2. Spare CQR 45-lb anchor. It used to be our old faithful, but it now takes up deck space and breaks toes. The Bulwagga is our main with several aluminum Fortresses for second anchors. I'd trade the CQR for a really big Fortress.
3. Our built-in 3KW generator, which has never worked, is heavy, and takes up a lot of space. I'd rather have more solar panels and/or a portable generator.
4. Full carpeting--we had nice new carpets made, but in the tropics they are too hot and get dirty from sweaty feet. We now have painted floorboards and a few small throw rugs.
5. Our 12/120 volt refrigerator, which is very inefficient in terms of power consumption. I wish we had a bigger holding plate fridge or a newer generation, more efficient 12-volt unit.
San Blas to Cartagena
I'm writing this from the dock of Club Nautico located in Cartagena, Colombia. It is quite a change from the remote San Blas. We have WiFi, eat out at restaurants, snack on ice cream, climb castle walls, and shop the street vendors. The trip from the San Blas was uneventful, except for one 30-knot squall and losing our alternator as we entered the harbor--normal cruising stuff. The alternator was swapped out for our spare. I'm getting pretty good at doing this. I've done it three times in one year. The harbor is busy with freighters, navy boats, and helicopters overhead. Some nights loud music starts around midnight and continues until 8 AM or so--Colombians party late and early. The old part of the city looks like Spain. It is surrounded by a stone wall that you can walk on. Street vendors push emeralds, and everything else. They get right in your face and won't let you go, but the Colombians ignore all. It helps if you try to dress a bit like a local: long pants, a nice shirt, and shoes and socks for men. Unfortunately, that is also the way to be hot--why do people wear these get ups in the tropics? Some days I just go out looking like a gringo instead of sweltering, but if you're off to the Port Captain's office or Immigration it is best to show respect. Cartagena is a great walking city. We can be in the old town in 20 minutes. The supermarket is 5 minutes from the marina. Great and inexpensive restauarants are just around the corner. Despite all the rumors, this part of Colombia is relatively safe. Some people describe Cartagena as a "demilitarized zone" where Colombians can take their families and enjoy living a normal life. Colombians are very friendly and helpful, though it would be useful to speak Spanish--Leslie is taking courses right now. The harbor water is incredibly dirty and barnacles are growing like crazy on our bottom, so we're thinking about hauling soon to renew our bottom paint. There are good boatyards here with reasonable prices and help available. Ian and Heather are having a great time in the marina with their friends. This is a good place.
San Blas Islands 3
The San Blas continued to get better and better for us, as we learned to understand and appreciate the Kunas better. The scenery remained amazing--like living in a calendar. Leslie wanted to see some dancing so we went to a Chicha festival on Nalunega. This is where everyone gets smashed on the local brew--Chicha-- to celebrate the arrival at womanhood for one of the family. The earlier parts of the festival were off limits in a giant thatched hut, but we could pretty much tell what was happening by the way people staggered out of the hut. The dancing came later, after dark, and was accompanied by chanting, clapping, and flute music that sounded very much like American Indian routines. There was a brief scary moment when Heather disappeared, just at dusk and in a village with no lights, but she was just running around with some other Kuna children. Heather was a big hit in the village as she was recognized by some of the Kuna children from an earlier visit. Heather gave one of the kids a stuffed animal, which was a much appreciated gift. When the father learned of this he had us all visit his house, meet his wife and extended family, and partake of fresh drinking coconuts. We reciprocated by taking and printing up a photo of the family (bring a small printer with you), which I was able to deliver later that day. Another highlight of our San Blas visit was the time we spent in the Halandes Cays near the Swimming Pool anchorage--a spot popular with American cruisers. The Swimming Pool has some of the clearest water in the San Blas, tons of snorkeling opportunities, good fishing, and a sheltered anchorage. Though, again, we rode out several strong chocosanas, but with no trouble. Just be prepared for 40 or 50 knots from the southeast, and you're all set for a "choco." Heather and Ian had fun with two girls on the catamaran Chewbacca. We all enjoyed Monday night potluck BBQs on aptly named BBQ Island. Surprisingly we rarely anchored with more than six or seven other boats around, and usually less. It was the rainy season, with lots of lightning and storms, but most of the time the weather is great. This has to be one of the best cruising areas in the Caribbean and almost nobody is here!
San Blas Islands 2
Leslie has quite a collection of molas, from various islands, and of various qualities. Some mola sellers are pushy and some are friendly. They all drive hard bargains. Going prices seem to range from $5 to about $20, with the highest quality ones going for $40 to $80, though we never bought any of those. The things to look for are fine stitching, intricate patterns, and lots of detail. The better molas are on bright high quality cloth, while sometimes old molas that are faded can be bought at a discount. Sometimes you have to wash them to remove the strong smoke smell (the Kunas use fires for cooking and light). I'm not a mola expert, but I enjoy looking at the interesting designs that represent various aspects of Kuna life. After you've seen the peaceful Kuna Yala, with tall, swaying palm trees, sweeping sandy beaches, and protective coral reefs, you can better appreciate the stories and imageswithin the molas. A typical day in Kuna Yala begins with us waking around sunrise. After breakfast, Ian and Heather break out the books from the Calvert system. Hopefully, school is done around lunchtime, or a bit later some days. Then its off in kayaks or dinghies to the reef for some snorkeling, or to Starfish Island for a game of tag on the beach. In the Coco Bandero Cays we were anchored so close to shore that we frequently just swam in. When we had a 56-knot chocosana (wind from the mountains), that closeness was rather scary. Boats dragged all around us, and we were 50 feet from a reef, but our Bulwagga held, backed up with a Fortress anchor that I dropped in the middle of the night as the lightning approached. Minke was one of two (out of eight) boats that didn't drag anchor that night. Out here we're on our own when something like that happens: no Coast Guard and no Sea Tow. Insurance wouldn't do you much good either--there's nobody to spend the insurance money with. You'd better spend the money on heavy anchors, chain, and rope.
San Blas Islands
Friends from Providencia had been calling around on the radio to find us, and we soon were chatting now that we were back in radio range. They were all in the Coco Bandero Cays so we hightailed it for there. Heather helped pilot us in by climbing up to the spreaders. In tropical waters, which are often very clear, one learns to follow channels by observing changes in water coloration. This technique works very well, once you are used to it, but it can be thwarted by poor lighting conditions. The anchoring area in the Cocos was very tight and we had to use a precision anchor drop to get in just the right place, with enough scope (anchor chain) out to allow the anchor to hold properly without letting us hit the reefs when the wind switched. We were soon anchored comfortably, enjoying the companionship of old friends. Heather and Ian were off in the inflatable kayaks to play on the beach, and we enjoyed evening cocktails on starfish island. Kuna Indians came by to offer us fish and langousta from their wooden dugout canoes, though they proved to be hard bargainers. They are amazing boatmen, paddling and sailing miles across open ocean waters in boats that most of us would have trouble getting into or out of. Sometimes one Kuna has to bail constantly to keep the things afloat, but they seem to always make it. However, one night Leslie and I saw a family struggling agains wind and waves to make shore. The old grandpa was in the stern with a little boy of about eight in the bow. In between was mom and daughter, both with little babies. The waves were washing over the ulu as they struggled to make shore. We motored out in our dinghy and took the women and babies off, then splashed our way over to their island while the grandpa and child paddled the canoe in. The family invited us to visit the next day and we returned to buy some molas and see their island. Another Kuna known as Serapio, was famed for being a bit of a crook, but we didn't know that. He talked us into giving him $50 to buy some groceries for us, and we wondered if we would ever see him again. Luckily, Leslie and Heather must have charmed him because the crook returned with everything we ordered, much to the surprise of the other cruisers.
Colon to the San Blas Islands
Three weeks in Colon went smoothly, and we enjoyed stocking up with fresh supplies from excellent supermarkets with reasonable prices--how about 1 liter boxes of wine for less than $2! We also restocked our malaria medecine at prices about one-quarter of those in the U.S. Leaving the Colon breakwater I glanced over my shoulder only to discover a freighter closing on us at warp speed--for such clumsy looking things they move very fast. We dodged out of the way and headed out into a lumpy sea. We were soon motoring under the ramparts of several old forts in Portabello, which claims the dubious distinction of being the wettest place on the North American continent. A stiff climb to the top of a slippery hill brought us to the highest redoubt of one of the forts, and it was picturesque looking down on the cruising boats far below. The next day we went on to Linton, which is known for its monkey island. None of the guides told us that the monkeys are actually the missing links between man and ape, and they walk perfectly normally on two legs. At first I thought there must be pygmies ashore, but they were awfully hairy ones with rather small heads. The giveaway was the long curling tail behind, which was more like a third leg that they sometimes used for hanging or sitting on. It rained for about 24 hours straight, challenging Portobello for its title, and I had to bail the dinghy three times over the course of the night. The San Blas Islands were our destination so we pressed on, and were soon anchored at Porvenir where we were able to exchange our zarpe (clearance) for an entery permit to the Kuna Yala--land of the Kuna Indians. The Kunas govern themselves semi-independently, but the area is nominally part of Panama. The U.S. dollar is still the local currency, though you can do some trading if you have the right stuff (mostly food and clothing). The village near Porvenir was classic Kuna/National Geographic: thatch huts, narrow swept-dirt walkways between, Kuna women dressed in and selling molas (intricate embroidered cloths), and lots of happy little children enjoying watching the funny gringos.
Panama Gets Better
To enhance our less-than-enthusiastic feeling about Panama, we discovered a small bit of water leaking out of our boat's exhaust line. The water was coming from a piece of hot pipe that should not have had water in it. Something was rotten in there, but Bocas was not the place to find out what. At least the engine appeared to be running normally, and we figured exhaust pressure would keep any water out of the engine--as long as the engine was running. We stocked up on diesel, and set off for the 120-mile overnight run to Colon, where the Panama Canal begins. This trip was with some trepidation. Cruisers know Colon as the town where all money should be stored in your sock, to avoid pickpockets, and it's the place where you don't venture anywhere, except by taxi. Some friends had their engine block stolen off the dock next to their boat at the Panama Canal Yacht Club. However, we were pleasantly surprised to find the new Shelter Bay Marina welcoming, safe, and very comfortable with its air-conditioned lounge and disco showers (you have to experience them to believe them). The marina contacted a mechanic for us, transplanted from the U.S. so language wasn't a barrier. Three weeks later we had a new exhaust, our wallets were a lot lighter, and we had explored lots of jungle trails complete with monkeys, wild dogs, and panthers. We never saw the panthers, but one day Leslie called the marina to have someone find me so I could rush out to rescue the kids from the panthers. Ian and Heather were off to the beach with some friends, Leslie was on the bus in Colon, and I was supposed to be working on the boat. Leslie heard from someone on the bus that a big cat had been spotted on one of the trails, so she called the marina to alert me. I ran off through the jungle, carrying a big stick, only to find no kids at the beach--they had gone to a different beach. Miles of running later, I found the kids, didn't see any big cats, and I needed to drink lots of cold water. The joys of the jungle.
Providencia to Panama
We had a great time on Providencia Island. We went to horse races on the beach, climbed the peak with the Port Captain (complete with armed escort), snorkeled on the reefs, ate out at friendly little restaurants, and even met the taxi driver's family. The driver just stopped suddenly one day, seemingly nowhere near our destination. He wanted us to meet his wife, children, and mother, and we all spent a delightful few moments exchanging pleasantries before continuing on. That sums up Providencia: one of the friendliest places in the Caribbean. The winds built for awhile, and a tropical wave passed overhead that later became Tropical Storm Alberto. This let us know it was time to continue south in order to get below the hurricane belt (10 degrees north), which is only a short distance south of Providencia. In company with Good Karma, we set off with a big wind and a big sea from the east, which soon petered out and we were motorsailing with lightning all around for most of the night. A channel of clear sky through the clouds pointed directly to Bocas del Toro, our Panama destination. Our dawn arrival was straightforward, though the lighthouse wasn't working, which is rather typical for much of the world. Thank goodness for GPS. We were soon anchored, called customs on the radio and we began to clean up the boat in expectation of the officials. They never came. Finally at about 5:15 PM they all showed up in a boat, and cheerfully cleared us into Panama--they were particularly cheerful because they charged us overtime and therefore had a nice bonus for the weekend. I later made them feel bad for ripping us off, but it seems that is part of ordinary routine in Bocas. With our wallets somewhat lighter, we soon learned that dollars were readily available from ATM machines in Bocas, and the town was swarming with international backpackers and surfers. With our rip-off introduction we didn't feel too happy about Panama, but things were to change as we explored areas around Bocas and we voyaged on to Colon and eventually the San Blas Islands.
Florida to the Caribbean
We spent most of the winter in Florida doing all the stuff you have to do to an almost 30-year old boat to get it ready for cruising. We added solar panels, revamped the electrical system, installed a new roller furler, replaced rigging, got a storm jib, added a water catchment system (works great!), and tweaked a million little stowage issues. That last item is very important before you head offshore. Dishes have to be wedged in so they don't rattle, cans stowed so they don't roll, bottles stored so they won't break, spare parts stowed so they are out of the way but you can find them when needed. It takes a lot of time and effort, but it is a never ending task. Each offshore voyage indicates new flaws in your system, but gradually you get things so you can leave harbor with a few moments spent on final stowage. The final gear problem was our self-steering system. Our old autopilot was perpetually failing so we bit the bullet and installed an Auto-Helm windvane steering unit. Once that was in place we felt we could at least have self steering when under sail, though I also purchased a small tillerpilot that could be hooked to the windvane for steering under power--at least that was the theory. We left Marathon, Florida, had a nice sail across the Gulf Stream to near Cuba in a light northeast wind, passed through the Yucatan Channel, then began a long slog across the Gulf of Honduras in flukey southeast winds with a strong adverse current. Conditions were exactly like the pilot charts predicted, but the reality of beating into a hot, humid wind and current, day after sweaty day, was tough. Finally, we decided to stop at remote Swan Island, which provided a couple of days of respite from the relentless headwinds. We met one other sailor there, a singlehander, and we were the only two boats to visit in a month. It is nice to know there are still places so remote in the Caribbean. On to Providencia Island we motored, in light winds and seas. Providencia is part of Colombia. It has 1200-foot high peaks that loom over a beautiful and protected anchorage. The people are friendly and the port captain welcoming. We finally felt like we had arrived in a Caribbean paradise.
ICW Moments
The ICW is 1,090 miles of toll-free canal, stretching between Norfolk, Viriginia, and Miami, Florida. In reality, most of it was created by linking streams, bays, creeks, and sounds, so most of the Waterway has a very natural, unspoiled feel. To find out a lot more about the Waterway, check out our Intracoastal Waterway Chartbook: Norfolk to Miami. There are great contrasts along the way: the busy shipping ports of Charleston and Norfolk, the total isolation of salt marsh anchorages in Georgia, condo canyons in south Florida, and Spanish moss-lined streets in Beaufort, South Carolina. We love it all. Some of the highlights for us include the North Carolina Maritime Museum in Beaufort, NC, the wild horses on the beach at Beaufort, the old market in Charleston, the peaceful park and streets of Beaufort, SC, the quiet anchorages up winding creeks in Georgia, the amazing Cumberland Island National Seashore, crashing surf on the ocean side of the Peck Lake anchorage north of Jupiter, FL, and searching for alligators along the banks of the Okeechobee Waterway (off the main ICW route). Some years, we've had warm weather all the way south and we sweltered. Other years we were wearing ski hats and scraping frost in North Carolina. The 2005 trip was middle of the road in terms of weather--we had a little bit of everything. Maybe its our pilot house on Minke, our Finnsailer 38, but the weather didn't bother us, and we were very comfortable most of the way south. Also, Minke, with her powerful engine, can smash her way through almost anything the ICW can throw at us, so we never lost a day due to weather. We were soon dropping the hook at St. Augustine, in northern Florida, and we lucked into the lighting of the town's Christmas lights, which is dramatic. We later watched the Christmas boat parade at Palm Beach, and the tiny, but equally fun, boat parade at LaBelle, on the Okeechobee Waterway. We tied up Minke behind a private home off the Okeechobee and left her for an extended visit back to Saratoga for Christmas.
Continuing South...
After the Annapolis Boat Show, with the nip of winter on the horizon, we began to head south as swiftly as possible. But, like all well-laid boating plans, the weather determined that we were to spend the rest of October in the Chesapeake. Hurricane Wilma first whacked Florida, then began meandering up the East Coast towards Cape Hatteras. The Graveyard of the Atlantic is no place to be with a hurricane around, even if you're inside the ICW, so we stayed near Fairport, Viriginia, safely tied to a quiet little dock, up a quiet little creek, not very close to several quiet little towns. Only the Chesapeake and Maine have such a wonderful variety of snug little spots like this, and we thoroughly enjoyed our stay, visiting old friends and working on various boat projects. One of the biggies was replacing all the rubber hoses on our nearly 30-year-old Perkins engine. That required lots of engine dismantling, but we were headed into the ICW and we would be under power a lot. We were later very thankful that our engine was in top shape while others were experiencing problems on the Waterway. Finally, Wilma cleared out and we had a cool, but uneventful trip down to Norfolk. The Dismal Swamp Canal beckoned, and we once again enjoyed traveling this antique canal, originally surveyed by George Washington. The lock tender at Great Bridge serenaded us with his conch shell horn, and we were soon watching our masthead so it didn't hit the overhanging trees. At the North Carolina welcome center we were rafted five deep at the dock. The other snowbird crews helped us pull 280 feet of chain out onto the dock so I could mark it off with wire ties--that is something worth doing when you're in a quiet spot. The trip on to Elizabeth City went quickly and we were just in time to go trick-or-treating at Halloween. As they have done for many years, Elizabeth City's very friendly citizens gave us a wonderful welcome complete with fresh roses, a wine and cheese party, and lots of warm handshakes. And, that welcome was not just for us, but for every visiting cruiser who passed through--amazing! Elizabeth City takes the prize for the best welcome on the Waterway.
Anchor testing
We tried to purchase a Spade anchor before we left, but there was an eight-week wait for the size we needed. We then checked into the Rocna anchor, which looks a lot like the Spade, and there was also a wait. So, I decided to try a Bulwagga anchor, which is made in upstate New York, near our home town of Saratoga. The Bulwagga looks like a grappling hook with blades instead of prongs. No matter how it falls, at least two of the sharp blades penetrate the bottom quickly. We first tried it in Cuttyhunk Pond, Massachusetts. The bottom there is very weedy and notorious for not holding well, but the Bulwagga bit right in. However, the first real test was in the cold front that swept through Block Island. As frequently seems to happen, the frontal passage was at night, so we experienced the sudden shift from westerly winds to northwest and then northeast in the pitch black. Several boats dragged away in gusts up around 30 knots, but the Bulwagga held and held well. No problems so far. We then swung around and around our Bulwagga for several weeks in the soupy mud of Spa Creek in Annapolis. No problem. ICW anchorages tend to have sticky mud, so they aren't much of a test of anchoring, but we did encounter one little problem in Georgia. We were anchored just south of Thunderbolt in the Herb River. Overnight the current switched several times and in the morning our Bulwagga came up fouled by the anchor chain that had wedged under one of the blades. However, the anchor had held us despite being fouled. So far, in more than a year of almost continuous cruising, that is the only time we've had a problem with the Bulwagga. Subsequently, I usually use a second anchor in a Bahamian moor if I'm worried about reversing winds or currents. The Bulwagga has held us in winds up to 56 knots or so, in areas where other boats with other anchors have dragged. I don't find the anchor hard to handle as we just leave it on the roller. I have to adjust its position a bit to get it to seat snugly on the roller, but that's about the extent of any hassle. You do have to be careful not to get your fingers pinched when manhandling the anchor as there are moving parts. I like the Bulwagga, and most importantly it has held our boat safe and sound.
Sailing South
We're now enjoying Cartagena, Colombia, after several months of cruising in Panama. Our current trip began in September 2005. Our new, to us, Finnsailer 38 motorsailer was launched at the beginning of September. We sailed to Westport, Massachusetts, stocked up the boat, sold our cars, and headed south after working at the Newport boat show. The first leg was a motorslog to Block Island against wind and a nasty chop. I've never been a great fan of Block in the summer--too crowded and no room to anchor safely. But, in the fall it is much more laid back and we enjoyed a brief visit. A typical fall cold front whistled through and provided us with strong (single reef) winds that sped us southward to Cape May, New Jersey. Offshore we had an odd argument with a cruise ship that insisted we should be showing a red over green masthead light at night, which is only required on very large sailboats.
The weather turned to the south at Cape May so we raced up Delaware Bay in time to catch a favorable tide through the C&D Canal, which allowed us to anchor in the head of Chesapeake Bay just after dark. Then another front came through and we had a wonderful swift sail down to Annapolis. We've never had such a fast and easy trip to Annapolis--basically four days from Block Island.
I worked the Annapolis boat show for Ocean Navigator, while the rain tried to sink our dinghy--day after wet day. We thought we'd never use our full canvas cockpit enclosure, but we sure enjoyed having it with all the rain and cold. In fact, we've found that we can roll up the sides, leaving the upper canvas to protect us from the sun here in the tropics. It is a bit of a pain as the main sheet comes down into the cockpit and therefore we have to tack the canvas if we tack the main, but we still love having that sun protection.
