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.