Happy Trails

Well, followers of Sailbonanza, it's time for us to say goodbye to sailing for now and close down this blog.

Bonanza spent the summer at the Island Packet brokerage dock in Tampa. Just when it looked like we would be heading back to Florida for another season of cruising, we got an offer on the boat. The new owners of Bonanza take over in a couple of weeks. We wish them all the best in their new adventure. Go on over and say hello if you see them along the way.

 

We will keep our sailbonanza@gmail email address open.

Happy Trails,

Michelle and Roy

Blue Fin Tuna Canada Style

No, we didn't catch this on Bonanza. Roy and I are visiting Prince Edward Island on the East coast of Canada by car. Today we were driving around looking at boats and the ocean when we pulled into Sea Cow Harbour on the West end of the island. An 807 pound Atlantic Blue Fin tuna greeted us at the dock. What an incredible sight. We met the captain and he told us how he and his crewman fought it for about two hours. His 40 foot power boat "Jolie" had no way to land the tuna so they summoned a fellow fisherman who's boat had a crane, to help get the beast on-board. Once lowered from the hoist, this guys was dressed, packed in ice and headed to Japan before nightfall. Happy fishing all!

More Blue Fin

Noonsite Reports

Here are some articles that I've written for Noonsite which is a website dedicated to sharing information with cruising sailors.

Jamaica
http://www.noonsite.com/Members/sue/R2010-05-06-2

Haiti
http://www.noonsite.com/Members/sue/R2010-04-01-3

Dominican Republic
http://www.noonsite.com/Members/sue/R2010-03-15-3

Docked in Tampa

It was a long, long way around the western tip of Cuba and we made it! Now we have Bonanza listed for sale with Massey Brokers here in Palmetto, Florida. 

Here is a view from the top on the mast. I had to go up to try to discover why the main halyard decided to snap right at the top. Luckily the main sail dropped neatly along the Dutchman lines right onto the boom. For the next couple hundred miles it was the jib, the cutter and the iron gennaker pushing us along.

Landfall in Dry Tortugas Florida

 
 
 

Excerpt from the Log of Bonanza

Ever wonder what it's like to do a passage? Here's a look at notes from our trip to Dry Tortuga's, Florida from Cayman Islands. This was a trip of 102 hours - approximately 5 and a half days long making over 500 miles in one go.

June 3rd, 11:00

Course 335  Wind 10 knots Seas around two feet - some higher.

N 19 30 08  W 81 22 2

Some cumulus clouds around. Can still see Northwest Point of Grand Cayman

Sailing along with the wind at 10 knots at about 120 degrees off the starboard back quarter. Seas are up slightly - pushing us over now and then...causing the boom to get slack then come up short. Noisy. We also have a tiny squeak at the end of the boom. It sounds like a little mouse every few seconds.  

Down here in the nav station I have the main hatch open, but with the wind coming from behind,  no breeze makes it inside. We have been underway for about two hours and are still mulling our options for this journey. To stop in Cuba and where? Cayo Largo, Cabo San Antonio, neither, both? We'll see how the wind goes. Right now we are sailing straight north towards Cayo Largo.

June 3rd 17:30

Course 350  Wind 10 knots  Seas two to four feet

Position N 20.05  W 81.30 

Sailing in good conditions. We have to sail at least half the trip because we don't have enough fuel to motor at will. With approximately 625 miles to go, our ability to motor is limited to about 400 miles. Meanwhile we also have to charge the batteries using the generator every six hours and this uses diesel as well. So we keep track of the hours charging and the hours motoring. Close track. Roy figured out the squeak in the boom. The outhaul line was too tight and was rubbing on the pulley inside the end of the boom. Now it's way less annoying and probably less hazard less. Friction is never a good thing especially on a long passage.Nothing to see out here on the sea. So far only the blue sea and the blue sky, one tropic bird and a plastic pail. Tiger soup for dinner. Did I mention that it sure is hot?

June 3rd  Midnight

Course 265  Wind 17 knots  Seas two to four feet

Decided to tack to the West. Seems we don't have the current with us as we are only going 4 -4.5 knots. We expected to be whizzing along with a following current by now. West is a good direction though, that tip of Cuba is still a long way over. Ran the generator and took advantage on some air conditioning for an hour. Nice and cool below. Heat lightening around us lighting up the sky to the North and the Big Dipper hanging straight down above. Probably the smoothest night sail we have ever enjoyed. 

June 4th 2:30

Course 274  Wind 12 -24 knots  Seas building

Hardest time of the night for me. Just going to sleep for an hour. We don't do regular shifts until we get really tired. Then we  take turns sleeping for an hour at a time. Watch consists of turning on the radar every half hour to see if there is anything coming. Not complicated. The wind getting gusty up and down from 12 to 25 knots. At least downwind this doesn't matter much. The sail trim remains the same, but at least the speed goes up at bit. Seas coming from behind. Nice and organized and smooth.

June 4th 5:30

Course 275  Wind 15 knots  Seas lumpy

Been light since around 5 am. At least the nights are not as long as they are further South. I got tricked by the moon last night. It snuck out from behind a could and for a second I thought it was a ship coming way to close. Roy laughed when I said holy sh#$t! Didn't you notice that before?" These things happen when you get the delirious sleep deprived brain. Our speed is better now 5-5.5 knots but the seas are not so smooth anymore. Maybe we finally have the current with us.

June 4th 10:00

Position N 20.28  W 82.38

Course 280  Wind 12-15 knots  Seas two to four feet

Reefed main because looming squall lines behind us. Already had two pass over us with 25+ knots wind and lots of rain. Between squalls Roy had to retie the reefing line that had untied itself during the night. Swell is up to around 6 feet because of the squalls, but it is comfortable. So far we've only covered about 100 miles towards the target. Where is that favorable current? Charging with the generator.

June 4th 14:00

Position N 20.38  W 83.03

Course 300  Wind 10 -15

Charging with the generator. Still haven't run the main engine at all. Had one last squall, then took out the reef in the main and  continue heading down wind and down waves. Nothing to see out here yet today except one freighter way in the distance and three brown boobies. Both of us napping on and off. Pondering how far to go. Tampa Bay is 94 hours away at this pace. Cuba looms above us still. Sure is a great big island. Isle of Pine about 50 miles north of us.

June 5th  7:30 

Course Due West

Daylight is good. Long night with a very late moonrise. We had to tack twice to avoid freighter traffic. Ok motion with about 6 foot swell and strong wind around 25 knots. Thank God it's behind us. Feeling pretty tired even with all the cat naps. It's amazing how fast you can fall asleep in this state and how weird your dreams are!

June 5 17:20

Position N 21.06  W 84.12

Decided to motor toward the West end of Cuba - Cabo San Antonio to see if we can get around before dark. That didn't work too well. Too slow. Sailing is actually faster as we continue West. Once we clear this point we can head North at last. Were able to tune into SSB NOAA weather. All looks good for a continued trip and it is comforting to have an updated weather forecast. Especially one that says, no tropical development is expected in the next 48 hours. Roy doesn't feel good. Looks like he is getting a cold to me. Glad I bought some cold drugs in Cayman. I'd given everything in our medical kit to Samuel in Haiti except the bare essentials. 

June 5  21:30

Position 

Course 049  Wind 10-15 

Finally the big turn NORTH. Not without drama though. Just when we were thinking of turning and the sun was sinking, a line brushed me on the top of the head. I was looking forward and realized that the main sail was stacked on top of the boom. We didn't hear it or feel it drop! The main halyard had chaffed through and parted. The mainsail came down with the one foot bit of rope left from the top. The rest of the line is somewhere inside the mast. Roy went forward and secured the sail to the boom. Now, we are continuing under Jib sail only. This set back hasn't hurt our speed as we sail along doing 5.5 knots. I guess we just keep going...for two days?

June 6th 8:30

Position N22.24  W 84.42

Course 049  Wind and seas same

Once Cabo San Antonio was south of us, the seas smoothed out to 1-2 feet. Calm like a bathtub back here. Had quite a time coming around as all the marine traffic seemed to show up just after dark. Lots of lights and ships MARPA'D on radar. At least it makes time go by faster in those dark dead hours before dawn. Decided to head for Key West. Roy not feeling good...sniffling and weak. Not sure what to do about the main sail, but don't feel it is a good idea to try to fix it now. Meanwhile the sailing with jib is going along and our speed is a respectable 5-6 knots.

June 6th  14:00

Decided to head for Dry Tortuga's, Garden Cay, FL. instead of Key West. Motoring now through "dead calm" conditions. No wind. Not a ripple on the water's surface. Hot and still and muggy and hazy. A long period languid almost imperceptible swell. Beautiful and weird. As per any trip on the water over 24 hours, you'll get every weather...and we sure have. 24 hours to Dry Tortuga. Roy looks better and sounds great with his new "whiskey voice"

June 7th.

Position: Anchored at Garden Cay, Dry Tortuga's National Park, Florida

Last 24 hours motoring in almost still water which is very unusual out on the ocean. The "Crudesky" freighter crossed our path and we got a close-up look at a giant freighter...about three miles away. Other than that sighting we saw nothing. I spent the day cleaning stainless steel and Roy spent the day feeling terrible from his cold. The first thing we saw on approach to Tortuga's was the tall lighthouse on Loggerhead Cay. It breaks the featureless horizon with it's tall black and white form. Soon we could make out the palm trees surrounding the base and then the pure white sand beach that is the island. Then the fort appears. Fort Jefferson is an immense brick fort that actually covers almost the whole island making it look like it is floating on the water. We anchored in protected water with five other sailboats behind the fort and were happy to swim and sleep.

A Walking Pharmacy

 

Market Day in the village of Ile a Vache includes the busy pharmacy woman. She had an unbelievable and somewhat indistinguishable selection of items. Really...look at all the blister packs in that plastic bucket!

My friend Samuel assured me that whenever he gets sick, she's got the cure. I'm so glad I was feeling pretty good that day.

Boat Boys of Ile a Vache

The boat boys we have encountered throughout the Caribbean are usually not boys at all. The term is applied to anyone, really, who makes
their way into the anchorage to visit you at your boat. For example,
in Grenada, the flag man rows out to visiting yachts with his
inventory of courtesy flags for sale. In St. Lucia the Fruit and
Veggie guy announces his arrival in the anchorage with blasts on his
conch horn. In the Tobago Cays, several locals from Union Island and
Mayreau with strong, fast wooden powerboats run provision services,
T-shirt sales, fresh fish sales and beach cook-out operations. In
Dominica, a strict pecking order dictates which "boat boy" will
approach each arriving vessel, welcome them to the island and offer
their services. They have special ID cards and an association.

In Haiti the people coming out into the anchorage share three dugout
canoes. If no adults are around, young boys jump into the boats and
come alongside. The soft thump of the water logged wooden boats on the
hull alerts you to the visitors. The boys like to say hello and
introduce themselves - that's about it for their English skills. They
hang on to the side patiently hoping you will give them a snack.
Usually the boys are summoned by someone older onshore who wants to
use the boat to come out to talk to the cruisers. This is how me met
Vilna and her husband Dou Dou. They speak very little english, but
carry a plasticised card introducing their laundry business on one
side and their dinner offer on the other. They will serve you dinner
at their home for $10 per person. Since we had been given some bleach
as part of the cruiser "aid" donations, we declined the dinner offer,
but were able to pass along the Clorox to a beautiful laundress.

Ile a Vache, Haiti

Why on earth would anyone want to go to Haiti - especially since the reports and images flooding TV's around the world look so grim? I guess the short answer is Ile a Vache is on the way. Heading west from the Dominican Republic, the next natural stop is this tiny island just eight miles off the mainland on the western end of Haiti. Known to sailors since the days of the Spanish explorers as an excellent anchorage, Port Morgan is a popular spot for modern day cruisers to break-up the days long voyage along the coast of Hispaniola. Reports among cruisers who had visited the island were unanimously positive. The cruising guide books of this area include Port Morgan as a must see stop and personal friends of our had visited there on their sailboat just last year. The wild card was the earthquake of course. While the island did not sustain much damage, we heard reports that a flood of refugees returning from the mainland was straining local infrastructure. 

Should we still go? Was it safe? There were definitely more questions than answers. There was also the matter of the supplies and aid we were carrying. We had become accidental relief agents. As we made our way along Puerto Rico, news that we were on our way to Ile a Vache reached other cruisers. Often they wanted to send along some food or clothing to the people of Haiti with us. Bags of canned food and clothing began to accumulate in our back cabin. After several emails back and forth with Diedier at the Port Morgan Hotel and Marina, Roy and I and Bill and Leona on Voyageur C had decided to buy some tools for a professional trade school (carpentry, masonry, tailoring, etc) that was operating on the island. Now word had reached some other cruisers in Boqueron that we were headed to Ile a Vache. Stan and Steve had befriended three young villagers on their last cruise to the island. Stan put out a call for donations and had soon we were being summoned to pick up the goods from the dock at Galligers. Ken and his family had rounded up supplies. These we added this to the mound in the back cabin. Stan slipped Bill on Voyageur C a few discrete envelopes asking him to deliver them to Samuel, Kahma, and another fellow. 

Our last stop in the Dominican Republic was at the secluded Bay of Eagles. I was feeling very nervous about going to Ile a Vache. Worst case scenario drama's were playing out in my mind. Since I still had a cell phone signal, we decided to call Port Morgan Hotel. Rose came on the line and assured me that all was well on the island. Yes, there had been some problems with the delivery of supplies, but that was in a village 45 minutes away from them she explained. "There are no problems on this part of  Ile a Vache, Michelle" Rose assured me. So, we left Bay of Eagles for Ile a Vache around 8 am the next morning. We motored for the first several hours. Still tucked into the lee of the island of Hispaniola, we had no wind and the sea was glassy. Slowly, slowly the winds began to build until we were sailing along smartly. Of course as night fell we were sailing along too smartly for comfort and decided to reef the jib. The winds continued to build and finally settled in at 20 - 25 knots just forward of the beam. Not an uncomfortable ride, but a hectic feeling one. Slowly, the winds calmed right down again and by dawn we motored again. As the sun came up we could see the island off to starboard. It looked flat on the south side, and we could see cliffs raising out of the bays further to the north. We anticipated another hour or so of motoring up the coast to our destination. 

Haiti had a different plan for us though. The wind switched back on from the north.Blowing from zero to twenty-five knots in a couple of minutes. Immediately the choppy seas grew to three to four feet coming directly at us. We could see Voyageur C lurching up into the waves, exposing a lot of bottom paint on the way back down.Great. Here we are tired and a little delirious from the overnight passage, coming into an unknown anchorage, (in Haiti of all places) and the wind is cranking like a maniac. We eye the various bays en route to the north end of the island. At least we can see a couple of places that we could retreat to if the north one is too rough. We pull out a little jib and tack the choppy seas. At least this makes you feel like headway is being made - slowly but surely. A painstaking hour passes as we inch up the island's coastline. Port Morgan Marina calls us back on the VHF to check our progress. Soon, we tell them, we'll be outside the bay soon. Finally, rounding the last point we look into the bay. It is not promising. Four foot rollers are training into the bay and crashing on the beach. I can't see the masts of other boats in the anchorage, but we do know from the chart that the calm water is around the reef and behind the mangroves.

We spot the powerboat coming out to greet us. It's a rough ride for him too as the boat rears and bucks from one wave to the next.  
Roy turns Bonanza 90 degrees and we go from traveling between the waves to moving with them. This is good and bad. Good that we are not crashing directly into them, bad that the waves now shove us  from behind. Powerboat guide is beconning in a reassuring way...I think. We know there is a reef to avoid to our port side, but exactly how far out does it come? Finally, I can see the masts of four boats in the anchorage. Another right angle turn and we slip in behind the reef and the mangroves. Miraculously, the anchorage is a calm pond.. No more washing machine action, no more rolling waves, even the wind is down to a rustle; it's quiet back in here.   We pick up a mooring beside a French catamaran and I slump into the cockpit relieved to be stopped. We made it to Haiti and I'm too exhausted to worry about what might happen next.

 

A Man's World

Men, men, and more macho men.. After two years of cruising along the
Windward and Leeward islands, this journey along the south coast of
the Dominican Republic has me culture shocked. Sure, speaking Spanish
is an issue, and yes, dealing with all the paperwork and fees is
daunting at times. But in the Dominican Republic you don't send a
woman to do the man's job and dealing with officals is strictly man
territory. So, gals, if you are frustrated with all the forms to fill
out in Antigua or are annoyed by the overtime charges for Saturday
immigration in Dominica, pull up a gin and tonic and read on.

We are in Barahona, an unexpected stop on the way out of the D.R.
Finding it impossible to get immigration clearance out of the country
in Las Salinas, we did the 40 mile, 5 hour motor trek across the bay
yesterday.

As we have come to expect, the immigration official came out to the
boat within minutes of our arrival. He picked up our passports and
returned them with the requested international departure stamps with
the hour. He said the despachios would be ready in the morning. Sounds
good, we'll just go pick them up. I'm doing pretty well with the
Spanish phrases so I head over with Roy to the Marina de Geurra office
the next day. Roy waits in the dingy and I walk up to the building. We
have forgotten that this is "Man Land". Off I go into my folly where
much hand shaking and Hola's and saying despachio ensues. I'm told
that the head man is just pulling up in a car. He walks up and we are
introduced. I shake his hand taking in the full military dress. Clean,
pressed and new, the uniform is a little tight in the midsection, but
impressive enough. He gives a few orders and two young Marina de
Geurra officers go inside to the offices. Someone finds me a plastic
chair to sit in, I get the feeling that I'm going to be here for
awhile and I wonder about the somewhat quizzical looks cast in my
direction.

The "head man" is a take charge kind of guy and once he settles in
under a shady tree beside the office, he indicates that I should go
inside and talk to the Commandant. My Spanish is getting me nowhere
and by now there are several young men of undeterminable rank
following me. The Commandant is behind his desk and he asks me some
questions in Spanish with a very cranky tone. I answer pleasantly with
my four year old's vocabulary . Neither of us are happy with the
results of this conversation. He leaves the room and I'm still
standing there when the youngest Marina de Guerre motions me back
outside. By now "head man's" girlfriend has arrived and she's sitting
in my chair. I'm relegated to the bench along with the youngest
officer. Finally it dawns on me, the folks here are expecting someone
else! Someone a lot taller with a deeper voice, perhaps.

Soon, along comes one of the port workers. Fresh out of a
spectacularly grimy engine room, his formerly white t-shirt and blue
jeans look stiff enough stand up all on their own. A big black smear
of something highlights his one cheek. Fernando arrives at my bench
and reveils that he is the translator. I am pleasantly and completely
shocked as the best English I've heard all week flows out of this
mouth. Fernando quickly explains that getting the despachio is no
problem, but really, he wonders, where is the captain? It's only
proper that both captains of the two Canadian boats should be present
for this process. Fernando is somewhat incredulous that I don't know
this. Now I understand. The issue isn't a lack of communication, it's
a lack of testostersone. No problem I tell him. I can see Roy has
abandoned the dingy, climbed up on the cement pier and is walking
towards us. Fernando tells Roy about the captain shortage, so Roy
heads back over to find Bill from Voyageur C. I go back to my bench
under the shade tree. The "head man" has called for the domino table
to be brought out and his girl friend nuzzles his big strong arms.
Sheesh. At least I can chat with Fernando. Fluent in English and
Greek, he reassures me that we'll be free to leave the D.R. tomorrow,
but there will be a fee of $30.00 per boat.

Captain Roy and Captain Bill arrive and they are immediately ushered
into the office by two Marina de Geurra officers followed closely by
Fernando. I wait for ten minutes under the tree then decide to go on
inside as well. I find the men standing around in the office opposite
to the Commandant's watching the youngest officer fill out the forms.
Fernando explains that this is the new guy and he's a bit slow. Who
wouldn't be slow. The lad is carefully typing our information into a
form on a manual typewriter. He is using carbon paper and you can bet
he doesn't have any white out in case of mistakes. No wonder he is
taking his time. I've already heard him get loudly reprimanded twice
in the past hour. He bravely completes the forms striking each key
slowly, but surely.

When he is finished we celebrate with a photo shoot. I feel like I'm
on a movie set with that manual typewriter and ancient office
furniture. Everyone has fun having their pictures taken. I give
Fernando 50 pesos for helping with the translations. He seems very
happy with that. Roy and Bill fork over the money to the Marina de
Geurra officer who was supervising the young typist. With the coveted
despachios in hand we head for the door. Outside, we all wave and
thank the "head man" as we walk quickly past the dominos table. I
notice that the girlfriend is very excited and appears to be winning
the game.

No doubt about it, it's a man's world here in the D.R. When it comes
to dealing with officials, gals, be prepared to put on a pretty smile
and let your man do the talking. Now when the officials come onboard I
imagine myself traveling back in time to an idealized day in 1950.
Honey, I sing up from the galley, Can I get you and "the customs boys"
another Presidente beer?

Las Salinas, Dominican Republic

March 1, 2010

Las Salinas,
On the chart Las Salinas looks like a great anchorage. It is tucked
into a corner of Bahia de Calderas and we haven't seen such a
protected anchorage since the lagoon in St. Maartin. Land surrounds
us. Even with the wind picking up, the water is calm - riffling
slightly in a small chop. The dry, mountainous landscape is ruggedly
beautiful and reminds us that we aren't in the eastern Caribbean
anymore. All went well as we rounded the point and came into the
channel that was well marked with red and green bouys. At the end of
the channel, as advertised in the guide book, we spotted a small
marina and hotel. We dropped the hook and in true Dominican Republic
style, we were visited by the Marina de Guerrre within moments of
stopping. No worries about checking in here. It's such a small place
that newcomers are noticed right away.

Hotel Las Salinas is no rural outpost either. Onshore we find several
small cabanas with couches and rocking chairs situated on a green
lawn. As we walk past the helicopter landing pad, up the stairs to the
pool area we emerge at the main building. It's just so hard to figure
this place out. While on the surface the place is impressive, one
can't help get the feeling that things are not as they appear. The
phase "a 3 dress up like a 9" comes to mind. The pool area is an
example of this idea. On first blush things look great, but a careful
look reveals broken pumps, a defunct pool bar and more than slightly
murky water.

The reverse is also true. A nine dressed up like a 3? When we saw the
helicopter pad for the first time, I thought...as if this has been
landed on in the past five years! Surprise for us, the next day in
comes the chopper and out climbs two men in business attire and a
couple of chic looking women. Same thing with the salt pan business.
We took a walk to the work area and thought we had stepped back in
time. Rusty train tracks leading to a rickety wooden storage depot and
an abandoned air about it. The large cone of salt crystals was a clue
that work was indeed ongoing, but this was difficult to imagine.
Surprise again! The next morning the sounds of heavy machinery
starting up woke us up. The operation came alive with workers in the
salt ponds, tractor trailer trucks loading and unloading, a full blown
business thriving in what certainly looked like ruins to us.

Another surprise here was the flamingos. Roy and I went off exploring
the large bay one morning and come across a flock of pink flamingos.
Again, what a contradiction. Five minutes before we spotted these
brilliant birds, we were checking out a giant passenger ferry that was
aground in the industrial part of the port. The "Queen of St.
Petersbourgh" was no longer floating, but stationary nose first into
the mangroves. Who knows it she'll sail again, but here the DR we've
learned to expect the unexpected.

Customs Crazy

February 18, 2010
No wind at all this morning. We watch two men in a traditional parogue
slowly sailing downwind towards Isla Saona. We head out in the dingy
towards the mangrove lake at Punta Palmillas. You can see stingrays,
jellyfish, schools of bone fish and fan corals through the shallow,
crystal clear water. We come across the sailboat we spotted earlier
and notice one man is snorkeling ahead of the drifting boat. He dives
down, comes up, and continues swimming ahead. Coming back to our
anchorage we move along the north shore of Isla Saona. It drops off
abruptly along the iron shore coastline going from two or three feet
to fifteen feet or so. Looking down from the dingy is like snorkeling
without getting in the water. So clear and so full of life. Bright
purple fan coral, brain coral, tiny reef fish and jelly fish are
everywhere.

We still have not checked into the Dominican Republic, so we pull up
anchor and head over to Casa de Campo marina. The waves were still
pretty energetic in the channel leading to the marina, so it was a bit
of a science project getting the lines and fenders organized for the
landing. An English speaking woman answered the VHF radio call
eventually and a dingy was sent out to greet us and lead us into our
slip. Turns out our spot was along side a cement dock between a power
boat and a 60 foot catamaran. Roy did a great job bringing us in
sideways between the two. We were met by the dock master who told us
the authorities were on their way and we should just wait for them
aboard our boat. Later we could check into the marina.

Before too long a golf cart pulled up with three people. The young
Dominican who spoke a smattering of English explained that he was from
the tax department and needed to collect ten dollars US per person as
a tourist tax. Accompanying him were the agriculture and sanitation
representatives who also needed ten bucks each. They dutifully filled
out receipts and handed them to Roy. Next golf cart that arrived had
four people onboard. The officer in full army fatigues walked the dock
as a much younger army officer took off his shoes and climbed onboard.
A woman who I believe was the customs officer also got into the
cockpit, along with the final team member, whose capacity remained a
mystery. After the filling in of the forms and signing of signatures
and carefully compiling receipts came the paying of the money. We paid
the army officer $63.00 for the boat entry and crew entry. He then
asked for a "propina" for the three of them. A little souvenir the
woman said. Roy pretended that he didn't understand for awhile, but I
broke first. We settled on ten dollars. They were not impressed with
our offering, but they took it and left. So our total for clearing
into the country, at Casa de Campo marina was one hundred an thirteen
dollars. Voyageur C came away with paying ten dollars more than us,
being more generous with the propina. Both amounts were much less than
the $160 dollars quoted in the cruising guide. They say this country
has a "culture of tipping" – something we haven't had to deal with
through out the Eastern Caribbean. Something we'll have to get used to
and fast.

The Mona Passage

First the weather bulletin; North swell to continue all week. But…as
sailors who are tired of waiting in Boqueron like to point out…it's a
long period swell. Ocean waves that come all the way from the cold
fronts that are pounding the Bahamas have time to spread out and
smooth out by the time they arrive in the Caribbean. So, it should be
OK to head into the open waters with that itsy bitsy 4 to 5 foot north
swell, shouldn't it?

We motor out of Boqueron Bay, Puerto Rico at sunrise. This first part
is easy because the bulk of the island and a large reef protects the
southeast coast of the island for miles out to sea. The winds are
quiet, still feeling the effects of the night lee we don't expect to
sail for a few hours. Our plan is to arrive at Mona Island and anchor
behind the small reef on the west end of the island. We should have
the 45 miles under the keel before mid-afternoon. Just in time to
explore this completely isolated desert island perched in the middle
of the Mona Passage - the bit of water that separates Puerto Rico and
the larger island of Hispaniola.

Sure enough the winds pick up as we head for Mona Island. The swell is
quite a bit larger than advertised by the weather forecast. More like
6 foot SE wind chop meeting the six foot north swell is what we are
getting. This is not uncomfortable, but it does make me wonder about
conditions in our intended anchorage. Voyageur C takes the north coast
route around the island and we head along the south coast. As we hit
the ridge and the water shores up to about 50 feet, the color change
is mesmerizing. Bluer than blue and bright. Beautiful, but certainly
not much calmer than out at sea. We meet up with our companions at the
entrance to the anchorage. The large swell is breaking on the shallow
waters in the channel. Not good. Big rollers are pushing up onto the
beach and they are sometimes submerging the markers on either side of
the reef. Nobody is going into that anchorage today.

Plan B is to keep heading for the Dominican Republic. None of us have
been to the south coast of this island before, and now we'll be making
our arrival at night. More accurately, it will be in the early morning
hours of a new moon. Why don't they just call it NO moon, as in pitch
dark which is what it will be for the bulk of the trip. We get to
alter our course slightly which makes the wind come around to a very
agreeable direction. We've got the sails up and we're moving along
across the second half of the Mona passage. The waves seem to smooth
out too, so we settle in for the additional 10 hours of the journey.

Sailing is good until about 15 miles from the anchorage. We've been
moving along the coast for a few hours and our destination of Isla
Saona is coming into view on the radar screen. The night has been
peaceful for the most part. We did almost run over a fish trap once
we reached the shallower waters off the coast of the island. But we
changed course, moving a bit further from land for the remainder of
the trip. Traveling in the dark makes any lights very easy to see.
Voyageur C's running lights showed them within a mile or so of us. One
green light behind us showed another sailboat moving along about four
miles away. But from the shoreline, nothing at first and then we spot
two lights that look like they might be onshore at the anchorage. We
track them as we venture closer to the tip of the island.

We're coming into the calm waters behind the island and still we see
nothing of the shoreline. It is so dark. At night, usually, the sky or
land is slightly darker than the other making for a slight visual
demarcation between the two. Not tonight. First we drop the main sail
and then I go forward with the flashlight to make sure no fish traps
are strewn along the way into the anchorage. I can see that bluer than
blue color again in the beam of the flashlight. I can also see a whole
lot of wildlife. Fish that are illuminated by the light leap up in
fright. Birds taking advantage of the well lit prey swoop in for a
quick nighttime snack. I get all distracted, shining the beam on the
nature show, and Roy is wondering what the hell is going on. He's
confident the two lights we can see are other boats close into shore,
but how close? Soon I go back to the cockpit to report on the
wildlife. Sill no sight of land we slow down and I get ready to drop
the anchor. The chart plotter indicates that we are right on the
anchor symbol. I can hear waves lapping on shore and finally I see
some dark areas. Anchors away, we watch as a flying fish, with wings
extended, swims about a foot under the water right by the anchor
chain. I let out the usual 100 feet of chain and we pull back to make
sure we are hooked in. Current must be running here because we sit
sideways to the chain. This is disorientating, but we are too tired to
worry much about it. Voyageur C is the only other boat near-by and
they are experiencing the same thing. Stopping is so great after
making a long passage. Roy and I cheers ourselves with a victory beer
and fall right asleep. Here we are in the D.R.!

Isla Saona, Dominican Republic

We made landfall here on the north coast of the island in the pitch
dark. It was around two in the morning when we dropped anchor and had
our victory beer.
It's so stange arriving somewhere you have never been at night. The
next day we took these pictures around the corner from the anchorage.
Beautiful mangroves stretch for miles.

Trip West

February 7, 2010
Bonanza meets Gilligan's Island
Now past the half way point on the south coast of Puerto Rico we have
arrived at the junction where TV shows from the 1960's meet. Yes, this
Gilligan's Island is named after the famous one. No signs of the
professor or Maryann, just three power boats rafted up and our pals on
Voyageur C. We are anchored between the island and the main land in
perfectly calm water. A small ferry runs from the San Jacinto dock out
to this mangrove island and yesterday it was packed with weekenders.
This is a great place to explore in the dingy. Access to the mangroves
and reef and small sand beaches is by boat only and the whole place
has a real frontier feel. I'm not sure if the small town here has
architectural covenants, but the small collection of houses are
amazing. Great design, beautiful lines, modern style and all are
completed - unlike most places in the Caribbean where rebar and
unfinished brickwork is pretty much standard.

February 5, 2010
Fish On! A big one too. We were heading towards Cayo Muertes…motoring
along minding our own business when suddenly ZING! That's the sound of
the line unreeling as the fish takes the bait. This guy is a real
fighter and continues to pull out the line, bending the rod over in
it's holder. Diving down the fish disappears we don't even get a
glimpse of what's on the end of the line. We've learned that it's best
not to rush the reeling in process, so we roll in the jib sail and
slow the boat down a bit. Half an hour later we still haven't seen
anything. We turn sideways so that Roy can reel in some of the line
and there, suddenly we see the fish surface. It looks a bit like a
barracuda, but it can't be because it's fighting so much. We continue
to pull on the line and slow down some until it finally surfaces not
far off our stern. Whoa, not only do we have a big fish, a shark is
holding on to it from behind. So much for the dragging method. Roy
reels in the fish as quickly as possible, but not before the shark
makes off with half of it. Bit clean in two our King Mackerel is still
impressive. Once filleted we have enough fish for at least six or
seven servings. So there Mr. Shark we both get dinner!

February 4, 2010
That's weird. I'm standing on the bow as we motor around the corner
from Puerto Patillas (which means sideburns in Spanish) to Cayos De
Barca (which means something not included in my Spanish flash card
kit), and a few hundred yards ahead I can see an sharp line marking
the end of the murky emerald green water we are currently plowing
through and a clear dark shade of blue that extends out to the
horizon. I take a picture for my collection of unusual water images
and look down as we cross over the color boarder. I've seen the water
change color at the confluence of a river and the sea before, but
nothing as abrupt and defined. A striking sight first thing this
morning.

The next weird, or rather unexpected thing happens a half hour later.
Still up at the bow I spot a catamaran coming along towards us on the
opposite tack. As it approaches I see that it's an older boat and
vaguely familiar. Out of nowhere the name pops into my mind. That's
Double Bells! How I have retained and been able to retrieve this
information is a complete mystery to me. Two years ago we had met this
couple and their dog in the Turks and Caicos. After chatting briefly
at a beach barbeque, we later crossed the Caicos banks in a group with
Double Bells and a whole gang of other boats. Double Bells ran into
trouble out on the choppy banks and since all cruisers are avid VHF
radio listeners, we heard their dramatic reports as they conferred
with their other sailing friends about their plight. The constant
pounding of the waves had taken a toll on Double Bells. They had
snapped a cable that helps hold up the mast and their wind generator
was flopping around half way up the back stay. Pretty major damage to
say the least. Roy and I had already bailed on the group and tucked
into the closest harbor of Long Cay to get out of the rough seas.
Double Bells came into view a few hours later. Rounding the corner
with their damaged rig clanking in the wind. They anchored nearby so
we went over to see what was what. They were putting on a brave face,
but the two of them were definitely rattled by the experience. We
wished them luck and that night headed out of South Caicos on our way
to Luperon on the North coast of the Dominican Republic. Forty-eight
hours later we were the ones rattled; seriously thinking about selling
the boat and going home! Another story for another time.

It doesn't look like anything else weird is going to happen today and
the scariest part so far has been the name of the cut in the reef we
passed through - Boca de Infierno. Now we are going to explore the
Cayos De Barca in our dingy and hopefully find a perfect swimming hole
behind the reef.

February 3, 2010
Waking up at Green Beach, Vieques offers all you would expect from a
deserted tropical island anchorage. Coconut palms and sea grape trees
line the beach and a small swell breaks on the coral reef just off
shore. Looking down into the clear green water off the bow I can see
the eel grass on the seabed waving in the current. Occasionally, some
small fish who is being chased by a bigger fish breaks the surface in
a frenzied bid for survival. Go! Get going! I urge them on, but I
always wonder why their jumping only takes them in a straight line.
Don't they know about dodging left or right?

After breakfast, which for me is always a granola bar. I still have a
stash of my favorite "Kashi" almond crunch ones onboard, Roy and I
agree to head out to the next stop west; Puerto Patillas. Protected by
a large reef, Patillas is a small fishing village along the south
coast of Puerto Rico. We did not stop here on the way through, so it
will be interesting to see something new. The weather looks the same
as it has the past few days…a little bit of rain and not too much
wind. Leaving Vieques behind, we pull out the jib and move along
smartly in 15-20 knots of breeze.

Of course now that we are going with the waves - following seas is the
term used to describe this situation. Following seas. I conger up
images like a friendly dog trotting behind his owner, or maybe a nice,
smooth rolling swell, lazily nudging the boat up and down. Well, today
started out with a well behaved 4-5 foot wind chop on the beam that
gradually built up to unruly 7 footers that began lumbering up from
behind us. You can feel the sheer weight and power of the water as the
following seas shove the stern of Bonanza out of it's way. Our boat
weights about 23,000 pounds - that's equivalent to three small Honda
Civics.

At least we were being pushed towards the anchorage at Patillas. But
then I get to thinking. How are we going to get out of these waves and
into the anchorage? Somewhere along the line we'll have to turn hard
to starboard to slip behind the reef. I can't image putting these seas
on the beam of the boat while we motor for the shelter of the
anchorage. As I start mulling over this idea my heart rate begins to
go up. I ask Roy if he's getting concerned. "About what?" he replies.
Obviously it's just me, but I'm not liking what I see. We've just gone
through a set of waves that were getting into the 10-12 foot range. No
longer do they approach the boat at about eye level. Some of the
largest ones loom higher than the cockpit as we dip into the troughs
between them.

Roy points out that the boat is riding along in a balanced and
comfortable way. The waves look big, but the boat feels fine he says
and I have to admit the motion of the ocean isn't hectic at all. These
following seas are just following a little higher and steeper than I
would like. Now the wind is dropping as well. This limit's the amount
of forward power in our jib sail and slows us down considerably. With
8 miles left to go, we turn on the engine to give us more power and
speed and less time out in the waves for me angst about coming into
the harbour. The waves appear to be smoothing out. We have slipped
into a gap between an offshore ridge that comes up to about 40 feet
underwater and the shore. This reef acts to smooth out the waves a
fair amount. Much less menacing now the followers are back down to 6
feet. Back down into friendly dog range. Turns out that tucking in
behind the reef is no problem at all. We spot two other sailboats
inside the anchorage - a good sign when arriving somewhere for the
first time.

We don't have a great chart of this out of the way anchorage, so we
drop the hook just outside of were the two German flagged boats are
sitting. Stopping is good. From here behind the reef we can watch the
waves come roaring in and vanishing almost immediately as they break
on the rocks. We aren't exactly in calm water though; Bonanza is
rolling as the swell sneaking into the bay catches us broadside. Roy
launches the dingy and I grab the hand held depth sounder so we can
check out a route for going closer to shore. Depths get pretty skinny
as we head towards the swimming area, but with a just under five foot
draft we can easily make it to a spot out of the swell and into calmer
water. After re-anchoring we are ready for our Victory beer. Victory
beers follow all passages long or short - scary or boring - everyone
loves a cold one.

February 2, 2010
The Trip West
And now for something new: The Trip West. This is also supposed to be
the Trip Downwind. The significance of downwind sailing can probably
be appreciated only by a sailor, so if I go on about it throughout the
next pages please bear with me. The point is, downwind is easier. I
hope this proves true for us. The Trip South from where we bought this
boat in New Burn, North Carolina to Grenada was mostly an Upwind trip.
Sailing with the wind coming from the front side of the boat also
generally means sailing with the waves at the front side of the boat.
Waves from the front side are called "chop" for a reason. Chop, chop,
chop all the way through the Bahamas and most of the Caribbean island
chain. Chop, chop, chop can make you cry some days. The cruising
guides really mean it when they say don't try to go straight from St.
Kitts to Antigua. The day we did that the chop made weep. I'm really
done with the chop and really ready for the smooth, smooth, smoothness
of the following waves. More like a sliding, rocking motion. More like
you see in the sailing into the sunset retirement TV commercials. Yup,
that's what I'm dreaming of for this Trip West.

This is actually day two of the Trip. Yesterday we threw off the dock
lines at Puerto Del Ray marina in Fajardo, Puerto Rico. Bonanza spent
a few weeks relaxing in slip 1043 while Roy and I flew home to Calgary
to pack up our house. It sold over the Christmas holidays with a quick
possession date to meet, so we raced from St. Martin to Puerto Rico.
Marinas are great places to access marine suppliers, trades and
services. Great places to get caught up spending lots of cash and
discovering new things to fix. The fix list is never ending so at some
point you just have to get going again.

Motoring out of the bay directly into a rain squall reminded us that
the weather was once again our boss. Wind, rain, sea state…it's all
about the conditions when you are trying to travel by boat. We decided
on doing a short hop to a near-by anchorage on the west coast of
Vieques. Only a 15 mile jaunt from the marina, but a whole different
world. Now at anchor the boat is much more lively. The slight south
swell rocks us occasionally - nothing to lose sleep over. We watch the
sun slipping behind the island of Puerto Rico, streaming orange light
between passing rain clouds. We'll spend the next days moving along
the south coast retracing the last few known tracks on our Trip West.
We traveled this way two years ago on the Trip South. Heading into the
wind and seas, back then we did short motor hops along protected
pieces of the coast. This time will be different. Smooth, smooth,
smoothy…right?

Dingy Limo = Dingmo

It's a dingy. 

No, it's a limo. 

Wait.. it's a dingmo!

The mega yacht clients can't possibly get to the New Year's Eve party
without one. What would happen to those snake skin spike heels, or the finely coiffed hair hair-dos if heaven forbid it should rain? 

Notice that the dingmo is stocked with a couple of extra drivers and some spare assistants. Who knows what could happen on the way to the casino? It's best to be prepared. More champagne, madam?

Me, I'll stick with my one good driver and wait for a nice sunny day to wear my high
heels.