Galapagos Islands to Panama
01 to 09 Nov 2011
The King and I. King Neptune that is.
Our first real 'downwind' sailing passage EVER….so this is what most cruisers have when they sail the 'coconut milk run', island hopping East to West (the right way) across the Pacific. I can see the attraction. With the wind behind us we were fairly comfortable for the entire 10 day passage, had fairly steady winds and no swell. We thought we'd have to turn the engine on at some point during this trip but we sailed the whole way with fairly consistent winds. Our only real complaint was that the rain (very persistent rain) now came straight into the cockpit and into the hatchway so we had no protection from our usual position, perched in the hatch and under the spray hood. Doh! Just goes to show - there is NO ideal point of sail.
This was also our best ever trip for nature watching. We left the Galapagos to dozens of enormous Manta Rays (2 metres wide) hurling themselves a couple of metres into the air, doing a few 360's and slamming loudly back into the water. We've read this is to kill their prey in larger numbers, so I'm assuming there were thousands of tiny dead fish around after this incredible display. Truly awe inspiring, I've never seen anything like it before and doubt I'll be lucky enough to again. At the same time there were dolphins and a whale in the distance….what more can I say?
Tied up in my awe and wonder of Mother Nature were some disturbing incidents as well. One night a couple of birds kept circling the boat, landing on the mast and attempting to land on the solar panels in the cockpit. No amount of yelling and flashing torches would scare them away. Sadly, one picked a fight with Sheila, our wind generator. Sheila won. Although she did cut out for a while so she obviously didn't like her screaming being interrupted.
I looked up one arvo to see a school of squids flying though the air, being chased by something and managing to get away….up into the air…..only to land smack bang on our nice clean deck. There were about 30 of them on deck squirting their black ink everywhere in distress. I threw most of them back in and scrubbed down the deck, keeping a couple in a bucket of water so Ian could use them as bait. Can squid drown in their own black ink? I guess so. The fish didn't like them either coz we didn't catch a thing.
But by far the saddest story for me was the fate of 5 tiny little land birds, about the size of a Swallow, but no idea what they were. We had so much rain, thunder and lightning and assume they were blown offshore and couldn't make it back. They camped out on Kadoona (which means 'little bird'…funny that) for a few days. They wouldn't eat anything we offered. One died the first night. One little fella, I named him Ollie, kept flying inside the boat, and didn't scare if I picked him up to take him outside. It must've been pretty appealing and safe and warm, because I took him back out six times. He even fell asleep in my hand, poor exhausted thing. Ian made a little box for one but it passed away too. In the end Ollie and his more cautious friend survived until we could see land. I tell myself they made it back okay ;)
Another visitor we had was from King Neptune himself. Since I'd never crossed the Equator by sea before Ian had to consult with the big man to get permission and ensure I was worthy. Apparently I was and I got off rather lightly compared to some stories I've heard. I had to drink some awful concoction of every liquor he (King Neptune) could find, eat some cake (oh poor me) and cut off a lock of my hair for the sea. And for all that I got a certificate! Least work I've ever done to get a certificate!
We also celebrated 10000 miles (yes, it really does feel like that much) and my real birthday, all in those first few days so it was a pretty cool trip. Oh and we had so much rain we filled up our tanks and were able to have proper 'showers' out on deck in the rain. I'm sure it's the cleanest we've been in the whole trip!
This was also our best ever trip for nature watching. We left the Galapagos to dozens of enormous Manta Rays (2 metres wide) hurling themselves a couple of metres into the air, doing a few 360's and slamming loudly back into the water. We've read this is to kill their prey in larger numbers, so I'm assuming there were thousands of tiny dead fish around after this incredible display. Truly awe inspiring, I've never seen anything like it before and doubt I'll be lucky enough to again. At the same time there were dolphins and a whale in the distance….what more can I say?
Tied up in my awe and wonder of Mother Nature were some disturbing incidents as well. One night a couple of birds kept circling the boat, landing on the mast and attempting to land on the solar panels in the cockpit. No amount of yelling and flashing torches would scare them away. Sadly, one picked a fight with Sheila, our wind generator. Sheila won. Although she did cut out for a while so she obviously didn't like her screaming being interrupted.
I looked up one arvo to see a school of squids flying though the air, being chased by something and managing to get away….up into the air…..only to land smack bang on our nice clean deck. There were about 30 of them on deck squirting their black ink everywhere in distress. I threw most of them back in and scrubbed down the deck, keeping a couple in a bucket of water so Ian could use them as bait. Can squid drown in their own black ink? I guess so. The fish didn't like them either coz we didn't catch a thing.
But by far the saddest story for me was the fate of 5 tiny little land birds, about the size of a Swallow, but no idea what they were. We had so much rain, thunder and lightning and assume they were blown offshore and couldn't make it back. They camped out on Kadoona (which means 'little bird'…funny that) for a few days. They wouldn't eat anything we offered. One died the first night. One little fella, I named him Ollie, kept flying inside the boat, and didn't scare if I picked him up to take him outside. It must've been pretty appealing and safe and warm, because I took him back out six times. He even fell asleep in my hand, poor exhausted thing. Ian made a little box for one but it passed away too. In the end Ollie and his more cautious friend survived until we could see land. I tell myself they made it back okay ;)
Another visitor we had was from King Neptune himself. Since I'd never crossed the Equator by sea before Ian had to consult with the big man to get permission and ensure I was worthy. Apparently I was and I got off rather lightly compared to some stories I've heard. I had to drink some awful concoction of every liquor he (King Neptune) could find, eat some cake (oh poor me) and cut off a lock of my hair for the sea. And for all that I got a certificate! Least work I've ever done to get a certificate!
We also celebrated 10000 miles (yes, it really does feel like that much) and my real birthday, all in those first few days so it was a pretty cool trip. Oh and we had so much rain we filled up our tanks and were able to have proper 'showers' out on deck in the rain. I'm sure it's the cleanest we've been in the whole trip!
Panama Canal…don't worry be happy...
10 to 19 Nov 2011
We made it! After 10 months of big islands, tiny islands, deserted islands, enchanted islands, coral and volcanic islands….we were finally able to set foot on a solid land mass (albeit a fairly skinny one, and one that man cut a big river through). It'd be great to say we arrived in Balboa to a big parade, a band and a welcome from all our friends and family. Instead it was time to tackle the many government authorities who try to justify their existence by making life difficult for you (often by simply ignoring you when you stand right in front of them). This job was for Ian, being the Captain of our humble vessel, and our guardian angel Erik who is one of the agents available for hire to navigate you through the twists and turns of trying to get through the canal (in the literal sense, not actual - there is another person you have to hire for that!). Erik was worth his weight in gold, but Ian will fill you in on some interesting stories I am sure.
The lead up to the transit, the big day itself and for several days afterwards felt like all work no play. Of course there were the usual duties associated with arriving in a new country: customs, immigration, port captains; and where to buy food, fuel, water, kerosene and all the things to fix the things we broke or those that might break in the future (a crystal ball would be handy sometimes). Then there were all the extras like sorting stuff out with the agent and Panama Canal Authorities; collecting lines and tyres (to use as fenders); food provisioning (and finding somewhere for it to all fit) for the next 3 months, this being the last 'big' stop again for a while; as well as fittings, boards, kayaks, life buoys,spare anchors and wires to moved and stored somewhere else (usually down below, making it even more cramped) for the transit.
My brother, Rhy, arrived a couple of days before the transit so it wasn't long before we had him scrubbing the hull, hoping it'd gain us a bit of extra speed during the transit. For once we were trying hard to empty out water tanks and showering merrily away, once again hoping to lighten our load and increase our speed.From the Pacific to the Atlantic side, transit must be done in one day (it's 2 days the other way), so we were required to maintain a speed of 8 knots for the duration. Our 25 year old engine 'Murphy' together with Kadoona's hefty weight of 18 tonnes seemed to stack the odds against us, and if we weren't able to make the transit in one day we would've been up for an extra $1000 or so. If it was down to bad planning on the Canals Authorities side, we wouldn't have to pay.
The transit day was a big day, long and hot. Thirteen hours of motoring and a lot of pressure for Ian and I, and Murphy. We were also require to have 4 competent line handlers on board. I opted out of this one I read some of the descriptions of transits, thinking it would be better if we paid the 4th person, since they'd have experience..Not the best decision, since Rhy was the only one (and unpaid) who paid any attention to what was going on. The other 3 slept and talked on their mobiles during crucial moments, in spite of me having words with them twice, and Ian once.
I'm sure enough has been written about what an incredible feat the Canal is - google it if you'd like to know more. Watching a ship go through before us, you'd be amazed they don't scrape their sides when there is only a couple of inches spare on each side. And watching the water swirl around beneath you as the chamber fills up, well you would not want to fall in that's for sure, you'd be lost in the whirlpool. There was a lot of waiting around before and during each lock. We were lucky to be tied up next to a cat with a much more powerful engine than us, so they took control and carried us along and we didn't have to do too much apart from be alert.
I was pretty busy cooking a special meal for the Advisor (they have standards which must be met), as well as providing lunch, drinks and snack for everyone else. I was up and down like a jack-in-the-box in a sauna checking the engine, cooking and doing dishes etc! The Canal Advisor was a lovely, helpful and informative man, who kept saying 'don't worry, be happy' and he seemed to like what I fed him. Hopefully this contributed to him trying his hardest to get us to the last set of locks in time. We were seconds away from it turning into a 2 day (and much more expensive) transit. It was a very interesting day but i'd be in no rush to do it again. But never mind - we made it to the Atlantic!!!
The lead up to the transit, the big day itself and for several days afterwards felt like all work no play. Of course there were the usual duties associated with arriving in a new country: customs, immigration, port captains; and where to buy food, fuel, water, kerosene and all the things to fix the things we broke or those that might break in the future (a crystal ball would be handy sometimes). Then there were all the extras like sorting stuff out with the agent and Panama Canal Authorities; collecting lines and tyres (to use as fenders); food provisioning (and finding somewhere for it to all fit) for the next 3 months, this being the last 'big' stop again for a while; as well as fittings, boards, kayaks, life buoys,spare anchors and wires to moved and stored somewhere else (usually down below, making it even more cramped) for the transit.
My brother, Rhy, arrived a couple of days before the transit so it wasn't long before we had him scrubbing the hull, hoping it'd gain us a bit of extra speed during the transit. For once we were trying hard to empty out water tanks and showering merrily away, once again hoping to lighten our load and increase our speed.From the Pacific to the Atlantic side, transit must be done in one day (it's 2 days the other way), so we were required to maintain a speed of 8 knots for the duration. Our 25 year old engine 'Murphy' together with Kadoona's hefty weight of 18 tonnes seemed to stack the odds against us, and if we weren't able to make the transit in one day we would've been up for an extra $1000 or so. If it was down to bad planning on the Canals Authorities side, we wouldn't have to pay.
The transit day was a big day, long and hot. Thirteen hours of motoring and a lot of pressure for Ian and I, and Murphy. We were also require to have 4 competent line handlers on board. I opted out of this one I read some of the descriptions of transits, thinking it would be better if we paid the 4th person, since they'd have experience..Not the best decision, since Rhy was the only one (and unpaid) who paid any attention to what was going on. The other 3 slept and talked on their mobiles during crucial moments, in spite of me having words with them twice, and Ian once.
I'm sure enough has been written about what an incredible feat the Canal is - google it if you'd like to know more. Watching a ship go through before us, you'd be amazed they don't scrape their sides when there is only a couple of inches spare on each side. And watching the water swirl around beneath you as the chamber fills up, well you would not want to fall in that's for sure, you'd be lost in the whirlpool. There was a lot of waiting around before and during each lock. We were lucky to be tied up next to a cat with a much more powerful engine than us, so they took control and carried us along and we didn't have to do too much apart from be alert.
I was pretty busy cooking a special meal for the Advisor (they have standards which must be met), as well as providing lunch, drinks and snack for everyone else. I was up and down like a jack-in-the-box in a sauna checking the engine, cooking and doing dishes etc! The Canal Advisor was a lovely, helpful and informative man, who kept saying 'don't worry, be happy' and he seemed to like what I fed him. Hopefully this contributed to him trying his hardest to get us to the last set of locks in time. We were seconds away from it turning into a 2 day (and much more expensive) transit. It was a very interesting day but i'd be in no rush to do it again. But never mind - we made it to the Atlantic!!!
Welcome to the Caribbean Sea…home of Rastafarians, rum and reggae (oh and those pesky pirates).....
Isla Grande and Portobello
20 to 24 Nov 2011
Isla Grande
As you rightly assumed we were pretty proud of ourselves for making it to 'the other side'. So this means all the planning and organising is over finally and we can relax right?….wrong. It was time to return the boat to it's 'normal' state, so all the work we did before the Canal had to be undone. Plus refuelling (Ian might explain this delightful experience) and alcohol provisioning, which we had intentionally left till after the transit in case the extra weight slowed us down. Don't laugh, it was two enormous trolleys worth of beer, wine and spirits! The marina on this side of the Canal is a complete wrought, overpriced, unaccommodating and unfortunately we completely resented paying to stay there, but had little choice. Still, we managed to get our work done and enjoy a few drinks and meals there, and even the occasional cool down in their pool.
We had a nice sail down the coast to Isla Grande, a little island where we hoped to get a bit of surf. It was a lovely spot - no cars on the island, just a track around parts of it, with little bars and hostels full of mosaics as painted concrete. Quite cute. Not sure how the houses go in a big storm, or when if the sea level keeps rising? The boys managed a few surfs although they weren't amazing ones. I kayaked and swam hung out in the hammock. The swell in the anchorage wasn't great (it was fun in the hammock though), so after a few days it was time to get a move on. We had an interesting 'sail' after having detoured to try and check out another surf spot, discovering after it was far too late that the current was dead against us and what should have been a few our sail took us till after sunset to get in, and that'd having motored half the way.
Portobello was our next stop, famous for the 'Black Jesus' and also for forts, gold and of course pirates! It was interesting to walk around the old forts but not a scenic town, with rubbish lining the streets and dumped anywhere since there are no bins, and houses crumbling and decaying everywhere. I think it might have been the second time the word 'ghetto' was mentioned by Rhy (the first being Colon - and no, it is not pronounced the way we all reckon it should be). BUT we had to go there. In Panama, as in most Central and South American countries, yachts must check in and out of each area and get (and pay for) what is called a 'zarpe'. Seems ridiculous to us 'westerners', since it'd be like rocking up to a Sydney police station to tell them you are taking a trip (what the??), you'd be laughed out of there. They say it's a way of keeping track of where you are and if you are safe. Of course you have to pay them, and they insist on a fee well above the 'official' rate. What a wrought! And they are so blatant and open about it. Without a zarpe you risk a fine of a few hundred bucks and a lot of hassle. So you take the smaller hassle over the larger one, but its still a pain in the butt and the boat 'kitty'!
We did have a great time in Portobello as we just happened to arrive on the American Thanksgiving Day, or as one of our young American friends told us "the day we celebrate how we slaughtered the Indians" (of course he was being sarcastic). There is a huge American cruising community around this side, I guess due to it being so close as well as so cheap. An ex-pats and ex-cruisers bar 'Captain Jacks' was used as the communal gorge fest and Rhy and I happily joined in while Ian (poor Ian) dealt with the corrupt but extremely happy officials. A Brazilian band of cruisers provided the entertainment while we ate, drank, chatted to people our own age (a rare thing) and watched the gorgeous hummingbirds zip around at lightning speed.
As you rightly assumed we were pretty proud of ourselves for making it to 'the other side'. So this means all the planning and organising is over finally and we can relax right?….wrong. It was time to return the boat to it's 'normal' state, so all the work we did before the Canal had to be undone. Plus refuelling (Ian might explain this delightful experience) and alcohol provisioning, which we had intentionally left till after the transit in case the extra weight slowed us down. Don't laugh, it was two enormous trolleys worth of beer, wine and spirits! The marina on this side of the Canal is a complete wrought, overpriced, unaccommodating and unfortunately we completely resented paying to stay there, but had little choice. Still, we managed to get our work done and enjoy a few drinks and meals there, and even the occasional cool down in their pool.
We had a nice sail down the coast to Isla Grande, a little island where we hoped to get a bit of surf. It was a lovely spot - no cars on the island, just a track around parts of it, with little bars and hostels full of mosaics as painted concrete. Quite cute. Not sure how the houses go in a big storm, or when if the sea level keeps rising? The boys managed a few surfs although they weren't amazing ones. I kayaked and swam hung out in the hammock. The swell in the anchorage wasn't great (it was fun in the hammock though), so after a few days it was time to get a move on. We had an interesting 'sail' after having detoured to try and check out another surf spot, discovering after it was far too late that the current was dead against us and what should have been a few our sail took us till after sunset to get in, and that'd having motored half the way.
Portobello was our next stop, famous for the 'Black Jesus' and also for forts, gold and of course pirates! It was interesting to walk around the old forts but not a scenic town, with rubbish lining the streets and dumped anywhere since there are no bins, and houses crumbling and decaying everywhere. I think it might have been the second time the word 'ghetto' was mentioned by Rhy (the first being Colon - and no, it is not pronounced the way we all reckon it should be). BUT we had to go there. In Panama, as in most Central and South American countries, yachts must check in and out of each area and get (and pay for) what is called a 'zarpe'. Seems ridiculous to us 'westerners', since it'd be like rocking up to a Sydney police station to tell them you are taking a trip (what the??), you'd be laughed out of there. They say it's a way of keeping track of where you are and if you are safe. Of course you have to pay them, and they insist on a fee well above the 'official' rate. What a wrought! And they are so blatant and open about it. Without a zarpe you risk a fine of a few hundred bucks and a lot of hassle. So you take the smaller hassle over the larger one, but its still a pain in the butt and the boat 'kitty'!
We did have a great time in Portobello as we just happened to arrive on the American Thanksgiving Day, or as one of our young American friends told us "the day we celebrate how we slaughtered the Indians" (of course he was being sarcastic). There is a huge American cruising community around this side, I guess due to it being so close as well as so cheap. An ex-pats and ex-cruisers bar 'Captain Jacks' was used as the communal gorge fest and Rhy and I happily joined in while Ian (poor Ian) dealt with the corrupt but extremely happy officials. A Brazilian band of cruisers provided the entertainment while we ate, drank, chatted to people our own age (a rare thing) and watched the gorgeous hummingbirds zip around at lightning speed.
We had a nice sail down the coast to Isla Grande, a little island where we hoped to get a bit of surf. It was a lovely spot - no cars on the island, just a track around parts of it, with little bars and hostels full of mosaics as painted concrete. Quite cute. Not sure how the houses go in a big storm, or when if the sea level keeps rising? The boys managed a few surfs although they weren't amazing ones. I kayaked and swam hung out in the hammock. The swell in the anchorage wasn't great (it was fun in the hammock though), so after a few days it was time to get a move on. We had an interesting 'sail' after having detoured to try and check out another surf spot, discovering after it was far too late that the current was dead against us and what should have been a few our sail took us till after sunset to get in, and that'd having motored half the way.
Portobello was our next stop, famous for the 'Black Jesus' and also for forts, gold and of course pirates! It was interesting to walk around the old forts but not a scenic town, with rubbish lining the streets and dumped anywhere since there are no bins, and houses crumbling and decaying everywhere. I think it might have been the second time the word 'ghetto' was mentioned by Rhy (the first being Colon - and no, it is not pronounced the way we all reckon it should be). BUT we had to go there. In Panama, as in most Central and South American countries, yachts must check in and out of each area and get (and pay for) what is called a 'zarpe'. Seems ridiculous to us 'westerners', since it'd be like rocking up to a Sydney police station to tell them you are taking a trip (what the??), you'd be laughed out of there. They say it's a way of keeping track of where you are and if you are safe. Of course you have to pay them, and they insist on a fee well above the 'official' rate. What a wrought! And they are so blatant and open about it. Without a zarpe you risk a fine of a few hundred bucks and a lot of hassle. So you take the smaller hassle over the larger one, but its still a pain in the butt and the boat 'kitty'!
We did have a great time in Portobello as we just happened to arrive on the American Thanksgiving Day, or as one of our young American friends told us "the day we celebrate how we slaughtered the Indians" (of course he was being sarcastic). There is a huge American cruising community around this side, I guess due to it being so close as well as so cheap. An ex-pats and ex-cruisers bar 'Captain Jacks' was used as the communal gorge fest and Rhy and I happily joined in while Ian (poor Ian) dealt with the corrupt but extremely happy officials. A Brazilian band of cruisers provided the entertainment while we ate, drank, chatted to people our own age (a rare thing) and watched the gorgeous hummingbirds zip around at lightning speed.
As you rightly assumed we were pretty proud of ourselves for making it to 'the other side'. So this means all the planning and organising is over finally and we can relax right?….wrong. It was time to return the boat to it's 'normal' state, so all the work we did before the Canal had to be undone. Plus refuelling (Ian might explain this delightful experience) and alcohol provisioning, which we had intentionally left till after the transit in case the extra weight slowed us down. Don't laugh, it was two enormous trolleys worth of beer, wine and spirits! The marina on this side of the Canal is a complete wrought, overpriced, unaccommodating and unfortunately we completely resented paying to stay there, but had little choice. Still, we managed to get our work done and enjoy a few drinks and meals there, and even the occasional cool down in their pool.
We had a nice sail down the coast to Isla Grande, a little island where we hoped to get a bit of surf. It was a lovely spot - no cars on the island, just a track around parts of it, with little bars and hostels full of mosaics as painted concrete. Quite cute. Not sure how the houses go in a big storm, or when if the sea level keeps rising? The boys managed a few surfs although they weren't amazing ones. I kayaked and swam hung out in the hammock. The swell in the anchorage wasn't great (it was fun in the hammock though), so after a few days it was time to get a move on. We had an interesting 'sail' after having detoured to try and check out another surf spot, discovering after it was far too late that the current was dead against us and what should have been a few our sail took us till after sunset to get in, and that'd having motored half the way.
Portobello was our next stop, famous for the 'Black Jesus' and also for forts, gold and of course pirates! It was interesting to walk around the old forts but not a scenic town, with rubbish lining the streets and dumped anywhere since there are no bins, and houses crumbling and decaying everywhere. I think it might have been the second time the word 'ghetto' was mentioned by Rhy (the first being Colon - and no, it is not pronounced the way we all reckon it should be). BUT we had to go there. In Panama, as in most Central and South American countries, yachts must check in and out of each area and get (and pay for) what is called a 'zarpe'. Seems ridiculous to us 'westerners', since it'd be like rocking up to a Sydney police station to tell them you are taking a trip (what the??), you'd be laughed out of there. They say it's a way of keeping track of where you are and if you are safe. Of course you have to pay them, and they insist on a fee well above the 'official' rate. What a wrought! And they are so blatant and open about it. Without a zarpe you risk a fine of a few hundred bucks and a lot of hassle. So you take the smaller hassle over the larger one, but its still a pain in the butt and the boat 'kitty'!
We did have a great time in Portobello as we just happened to arrive on the American Thanksgiving Day, or as one of our young American friends told us "the day we celebrate how we slaughtered the Indians" (of course he was being sarcastic). There is a huge American cruising community around this side, I guess due to it being so close as well as so cheap. An ex-pats and ex-cruisers bar 'Captain Jacks' was used as the communal gorge fest and Rhy and I happily joined in while Ian (poor Ian) dealt with the corrupt but extremely happy officials. A Brazilian band of cruisers provided the entertainment while we ate, drank, chatted to people our own age (a rare thing) and watched the gorgeous hummingbirds zip around at lightning speed.
Portobello to Bocas del Toro - the shortest worstest
trip ever......
25 to 27 Nov 2011
Blaaaaaah! I'm sure I may have said this once or twice before but this was a terrible trip, made all the worse by the fact that it SHOULD have been one of the shortest passages in our entire sailing LIFE! It was about 150nm,but we travelled at least twice that. The wind was against us the entire way. The current was against us the entire way. It rained the entire way. It took a lot longer than it should have. You get the picture. The elements were so entirely against us the ENTIRE WAY that after many hours of tacking and only gaining about half a mile towards our destination we had no choice but to put the engine on. Rhy was indisposed for most of the journey (I think somebody named Jack Daniels may have had something to do with that) so Ian and I were just complaining endlessly to each other. We made it the whole way across the Pacific, thousands and thousands of miles on one tank of fuel and to make this trip we had to use the engine almost the entire way. It burnt through our fuel supply, and our pride. And of course we were concerned about 'Murphy' overheating. Since we didn't think Rhy would enjoy 9 or 10 days of his 3 week holiday tacking back and forth up the coast (and neither would we really), it was our only option.
Bocas del Toro -
the Byron Bay of Panama, the Venice of Central America
28 Nov to ……
Bocas is a town on the island of Colon (which is joined to the mainland by a thin sliver of land) located a 30 odd miles south of the border with Costa Rica. It's a bustling little tourist town with a surfie-hippie-reggae-want-to-get-stoned vibe and is built right on the water (or over the water), with many of its bars and restaurants having their own little dock to tie your dingy up to. Traditionally all of the buildings here were built of wood and there are still many around town in various states of repair (and disrepair), so the town has a lot of character. Wood and water (the sea and bucket loads of rain) surely are not the most practical of marriages, so unfortunately there is a bit of concrete starting to creep in. Although the town is on the water, it's not on a beach but there are plenty of beaches, surf breaks and other islands to explore, so a lot of people zip around in one of the many speedy water taxis.
There was something for all of us in Bocas - surf, internet (contact with the outside world), shopping, eating out and live music, as well as a bit of socialising with non-cruisers. Would you believe we met a guy who's brother used to be married to a girl from Gero I know? We met at their wedding about 12 years ago, small world. Rhy would often throw his board over and paddle into town to catch a taxi to the surf before we were even up. For five days it rained and rained and I was thankful in some ways that we were floating, some locals said they'd never seen it rain this much or for this long. We tried not to let it stop us from doing things but it really was quite awful. When it finally let up we caught a water taxi with a few Aussie and Portuguese friends and went to Long Beach. I had my first surf in a year and although it wasn't great (and neither was I) it was nice to get out. Getting to the surf this day and back out was an adventure in itself, luckily we had thought to bring our dry bags or everyones camera gear would've been ruined. We had to throw the boards and all our gear out and paddle into the beach, then walk and wade up to the surf. One moment that struck us all was the 20 or so huge garbage bags sitting (ripped and overflowing) on the beach outside a little shack,right next to national park sign. Does it stay there? Does anyone collect it in a boat? Or do the bags just deteriorate and all the rubbish ends up in the sea? Or me trying to put a positive spin on it - perhaps someone COLLECTED it from up and down the beach and it was awaiting collection? Things that make you go hmmmmm…..
After Rhy left (boooo) we spent a couple of days pining for our lost child (personal joke), got over it, then spent a couple of quiet night anchored near Isla Bastimentos. It is essentially an 'island', but it is connected to the mainland at some far away inaccessible point in the jungle. Some backpackers we met call this the lazy island. It's pretty chilled compared to Bocas town, but the bars still play music at ear-drum-bursting levels in the hope of attracting people, something I have never understood since it tends to drive us away. We could get to a great beach called Wizards but we had to really want it. It's a 25 minute track through jungle, mud (impossible after a day of rain) and bitey things. Oh and did I mention the machete wielding muggers? Yup, afraid so, the problem is so bad that there are signs up everywhere advising you not to take valuables, not walk alone etc, police patrolling, and we even had a few locals approach us and tell us not to take out bags. We decided to risk it for the chance of a surf (carrying the boards through the jungle was more daunting. Thank you Ian for carrying my big fat longboard), but only took food, water and towels. I hoped I could do some damage if need be with the fins on the boards but luckily there was no need. Had a lovely day surfing, tiny waves perfect for Flossy (my board) and well worth the track. That evening we found a bar and the BEST cheapest meals we have ever had…..3 yummy wines for me, 5 beers for Ian, and two incredibly satisfying meals of rice, beans, veggies, fried plantains and salad (with BBQ chook for Ian). All for 20 bucks. I was in veggie heaven I must say. The other place we found was a great little cafe (finally a decent coffee in Panama) on a hill in the jungle where a Scottish girl lives with her Panamanian hubby and their 3 kiddies. They make organic body products from cacao (cocoa), coconuts etc that they grow, DE-licious!
We're back in our 'regular' anchorage near town now and prepping to depart for the apparently wondrous San Blas Islands about 200 nm SE from Bocas. I've upped stepped up security a little since a few days ago since being made aware of an apparently regular occurrence here on yachts, which went into overdrive with the recent full moon - theft. Finally I am justified in my paranoia, Ian's never likely to hear the end of it…'remember in Bocas….' Apart trying to keep in contact with the outside world (WiFi everywhere is a welcome change), we have the usual list of things to fix and things to buy, although neither seem quite as essential as when we were crossing the never ending Pacific Ocean. We are ready to leave the rat race again and really looking forward to no cars, no harassment and crystal clear water. Kadoona and our dingy both have very dirty bums from the oily (and I'm guessing very polluted) waters here. We have two crayfish for dinner tonight brought from some guys in a dugout canoe for $5 and I'm trying not to think of exactly which waters they came from. Or the fact that me saying 'sorry sorry sorry' as I put them into boiling water probably didn't help their pain. Oh dear, maybe I'll just eat the veggies….
There was something for all of us in Bocas - surf, internet (contact with the outside world), shopping, eating out and live music, as well as a bit of socialising with non-cruisers. Would you believe we met a guy who's brother used to be married to a girl from Gero I know? We met at their wedding about 12 years ago, small world. Rhy would often throw his board over and paddle into town to catch a taxi to the surf before we were even up. For five days it rained and rained and I was thankful in some ways that we were floating, some locals said they'd never seen it rain this much or for this long. We tried not to let it stop us from doing things but it really was quite awful. When it finally let up we caught a water taxi with a few Aussie and Portuguese friends and went to Long Beach. I had my first surf in a year and although it wasn't great (and neither was I) it was nice to get out. Getting to the surf this day and back out was an adventure in itself, luckily we had thought to bring our dry bags or everyones camera gear would've been ruined. We had to throw the boards and all our gear out and paddle into the beach, then walk and wade up to the surf. One moment that struck us all was the 20 or so huge garbage bags sitting (ripped and overflowing) on the beach outside a little shack,right next to national park sign. Does it stay there? Does anyone collect it in a boat? Or do the bags just deteriorate and all the rubbish ends up in the sea? Or me trying to put a positive spin on it - perhaps someone COLLECTED it from up and down the beach and it was awaiting collection? Things that make you go hmmmmm…..
After Rhy left (boooo) we spent a couple of days pining for our lost child (personal joke), got over it, then spent a couple of quiet night anchored near Isla Bastimentos. It is essentially an 'island', but it is connected to the mainland at some far away inaccessible point in the jungle. Some backpackers we met call this the lazy island. It's pretty chilled compared to Bocas town, but the bars still play music at ear-drum-bursting levels in the hope of attracting people, something I have never understood since it tends to drive us away. We could get to a great beach called Wizards but we had to really want it. It's a 25 minute track through jungle, mud (impossible after a day of rain) and bitey things. Oh and did I mention the machete wielding muggers? Yup, afraid so, the problem is so bad that there are signs up everywhere advising you not to take valuables, not walk alone etc, police patrolling, and we even had a few locals approach us and tell us not to take out bags. We decided to risk it for the chance of a surf (carrying the boards through the jungle was more daunting. Thank you Ian for carrying my big fat longboard), but only took food, water and towels. I hoped I could do some damage if need be with the fins on the boards but luckily there was no need. Had a lovely day surfing, tiny waves perfect for Flossy (my board) and well worth the track. That evening we found a bar and the BEST cheapest meals we have ever had…..3 yummy wines for me, 5 beers for Ian, and two incredibly satisfying meals of rice, beans, veggies, fried plantains and salad (with BBQ chook for Ian). All for 20 bucks. I was in veggie heaven I must say. The other place we found was a great little cafe (finally a decent coffee in Panama) on a hill in the jungle where a Scottish girl lives with her Panamanian hubby and their 3 kiddies. They make organic body products from cacao (cocoa), coconuts etc that they grow, DE-licious!
We're back in our 'regular' anchorage near town now and prepping to depart for the apparently wondrous San Blas Islands about 200 nm SE from Bocas. I've upped stepped up security a little since a few days ago since being made aware of an apparently regular occurrence here on yachts, which went into overdrive with the recent full moon - theft. Finally I am justified in my paranoia, Ian's never likely to hear the end of it…'remember in Bocas….' Apart trying to keep in contact with the outside world (WiFi everywhere is a welcome change), we have the usual list of things to fix and things to buy, although neither seem quite as essential as when we were crossing the never ending Pacific Ocean. We are ready to leave the rat race again and really looking forward to no cars, no harassment and crystal clear water. Kadoona and our dingy both have very dirty bums from the oily (and I'm guessing very polluted) waters here. We have two crayfish for dinner tonight brought from some guys in a dugout canoe for $5 and I'm trying not to think of exactly which waters they came from. Or the fact that me saying 'sorry sorry sorry' as I put them into boiling water probably didn't help their pain. Oh dear, maybe I'll just eat the veggies….
Bocas del Toro to San Blas
15 to 17 Dec 2011
Nothing much to note about this trip other than it was much easier in reverse, but it still rain-rain-rained. Oh that - and a very big ship came a little too close to us…..We had just passed Colon (the arse hole of the world and entrance/exit to the Canal) with clear skies (yes really!) and the cruising chute up. Ian retired to bed and I carried on, eventually getting the main up and the cruising chute down just in time before a squall hit. Luckily, because the 'squall' was much longer lasting than I'd thought…the rain got heavier and heavier and ended up reducing our visibility I couldn't see the ships until the last minute, I only knew because of the AIS receiver we have (translation for non sailors: information on our chart plotter that shows us the ships details (name, course and speed) and it's proximity to us). It is not always accurate but Ian did his entire thesis on this so he would be better to explain it's more intimate workings (or non workings).
Anyway, visibility was reduced so much that I suggested the captain get up early and into the cockpit, since a ship had just passed closely astern of us, which was all good, but there was another which was due to pass VERY close to us shortly. So there we are, full wet weather gear on, middle of the day, dark as hell and I'm giving Ian a running commentary from the nab table of the ships course, expected 'closest point of arrival' , time frame etc and we decided to call the ship on VHF and ensure they knew where we were in relation to them and that they were getting close. All good on the VHF, the captain acknowledged they had us on radar etc and we relaxed a bit. A few minutes later Ian's rushing to put the engine on because the ship has just appeared through the rain and they are their bow is pointed directly at our beam…..Now since most of MY friends and family have no idea about sailing (much like me!) I feel I should explain…that massive ship is expected to give way to US, since we were sailing. You are supposed to hold your course until it is clear that no action is being taken and only THEN, alter your course to starboard. Any action other than that completely confuses the situation. but seriously, in that situation, it felt like playing chicken. Ian gunned the engine and propelled us forward as fast as our little boat would go while I frantically tried to find my words on the radio to tell them to CHANGE COURSE! (unfortunately I now know I am NOT very clear headed in an emergency situation). They saw us at the last minute and altered their course, but they were only a couple of hundred metres away going 19 knots, so if Ian hadn't put the engine on….well….they wouldn't even have felt the bump as they ran over us! Needless to say a certain person had a few words with the captain of that ship shortly afterwards, while I sat shaking in the cockpit. Livin' the dream……..
Anyway, visibility was reduced so much that I suggested the captain get up early and into the cockpit, since a ship had just passed closely astern of us, which was all good, but there was another which was due to pass VERY close to us shortly. So there we are, full wet weather gear on, middle of the day, dark as hell and I'm giving Ian a running commentary from the nab table of the ships course, expected 'closest point of arrival' , time frame etc and we decided to call the ship on VHF and ensure they knew where we were in relation to them and that they were getting close. All good on the VHF, the captain acknowledged they had us on radar etc and we relaxed a bit. A few minutes later Ian's rushing to put the engine on because the ship has just appeared through the rain and they are their bow is pointed directly at our beam…..Now since most of MY friends and family have no idea about sailing (much like me!) I feel I should explain…that massive ship is expected to give way to US, since we were sailing. You are supposed to hold your course until it is clear that no action is being taken and only THEN, alter your course to starboard. Any action other than that completely confuses the situation. but seriously, in that situation, it felt like playing chicken. Ian gunned the engine and propelled us forward as fast as our little boat would go while I frantically tried to find my words on the radio to tell them to CHANGE COURSE! (unfortunately I now know I am NOT very clear headed in an emergency situation). They saw us at the last minute and altered their course, but they were only a couple of hundred metres away going 19 knots, so if Ian hadn't put the engine on….well….they wouldn't even have felt the bump as they ran over us! Needless to say a certain person had a few words with the captain of that ship shortly afterwards, while I sat shaking in the cockpit. Livin' the dream……..
The San Blas Islands - even the word 'paradise' doesn't do this place justice....
Chicheme
17 to 21 Dec 2011
Ahhhhhhh this is the life……
We spent our first few days in a little group of islands called Chichime, recovering from our little passage, doing some jobs (always) and a bit of relaxing too. The first few days we had incredible thunder and lightening storms, torrential rain and very high winds. Four boats dragged around us over that time, one ending up on beach behind us when there engine failed (typically bad bad timing). Once that cleared up though it was just lovely and we'd swim ashore, walk around the tiny island and swim back, then go for a kayak or a surf, then some more swimming. This is the only place where there is surf in the San Blas and Ian had a fantastic session on Dads longboard, until right at the end when he smashed into the reef. Bless him, he was trying to save the board from being damaged. Instead he slashed a pair of boardies beyond repair and I had to coat his legs, back and white bum in Betadine.
The islands are tiny and consist mainly of coconut trees and perhaps a shack or two for the Kuna Indians sent out to guard the coconut trees. The water is clean and clear but we were surprised by the abundance of plastic rubbish along the shore. We have since learnt that the Kuna's will just throw their rubbish down at their feet instead of compiling it to burn it (there are no bins here). Some Kuna's charge cruisers to take care of their rubbish (i.e.. burn it), but instead just dump the whole lot into the sea. Very sad to see, so most cruisers get together and have a big burn amongst themselves. I guess it's a lack of education and services, until recently plastic (as in the last 10-15 years?) plastic was probably not that common for them.
We spent our first few days in a little group of islands called Chichime, recovering from our little passage, doing some jobs (always) and a bit of relaxing too. The first few days we had incredible thunder and lightening storms, torrential rain and very high winds. Four boats dragged around us over that time, one ending up on beach behind us when there engine failed (typically bad bad timing). Once that cleared up though it was just lovely and we'd swim ashore, walk around the tiny island and swim back, then go for a kayak or a surf, then some more swimming. This is the only place where there is surf in the San Blas and Ian had a fantastic session on Dads longboard, until right at the end when he smashed into the reef. Bless him, he was trying to save the board from being damaged. Instead he slashed a pair of boardies beyond repair and I had to coat his legs, back and white bum in Betadine.
The islands are tiny and consist mainly of coconut trees and perhaps a shack or two for the Kuna Indians sent out to guard the coconut trees. The water is clean and clear but we were surprised by the abundance of plastic rubbish along the shore. We have since learnt that the Kuna's will just throw their rubbish down at their feet instead of compiling it to burn it (there are no bins here). Some Kuna's charge cruisers to take care of their rubbish (i.e.. burn it), but instead just dump the whole lot into the sea. Very sad to see, so most cruisers get together and have a big burn amongst themselves. I guess it's a lack of education and services, until recently plastic (as in the last 10-15 years?) plastic was probably not that common for them.
Hollandeys Cays
The festive season, very festive indeed…
21 Dec 2011to 03 Jan 2012
The naughty Christmas Dinghy Carollers
We spent Christmas in a beautiful anchorage nicknamed 'the Swimming Pool'. It's a large area of crystal clear water, surrounded by heaps of islands which are in turn protected by a long reef on the outside of the entire entire group. I renamed it the 'Lap Pool' since current was running at at least 2 knots (due to the particularly strong winds and large swells at that time, the waves were pounding over the reefs) and was so strong you could swim ferociously and still not move once inch AHEAD. It was actually quite dangerous, we would jump in off the bow and it would take 2 seconds before you were grabbing for the ladder on the stern. If you missed it, well you'd just have to hope you hit the boat behind you and they'd be kind enough to get in their dinghy and run you back home! But hey, lovely sunny, clear blue skies, so we weren't complaining.
It was a very festive time, with very friendly and welcoming people. We had carollers do the rounds on Christmas Eve in their dinghy, donned in Santa hats and flashing lights, ukelele's in hand. They were granted a shot of rum each from most boats (there were about 15 boats) so that made for an interesting boating-safety-experiment, especially against the current when their engine cocked out! Christmas Day for us was swimming and champagne brekkie (my normal Pegler Christmas) and then a get together of about 60 people on Barbecue Island in the arvo for food, many beverages and much singing and joviality. There was even a full sized electric keyboard run by a generator….these guys know how to party!
Before New Years we moved around the corner to a place nicknamed "The Hot Tub"…I know, the names are a bit corny but all the people and scenery make up for it. We got a bit of work done on the boat, cleaned the hull (the current was not as strong here), repaired sails, you know the usual fun stuff you do on holidays…plus a fair bit of snorkelling and socialising in. I had a rather unpleasant experience with a tiny piece of fire coral (NOW I know why it's called FIRE coral) but other than that it was very pleasant. Except for New Years Day. So, we celebrated in style on New Years Eve on a friends very large, roomy and shiny catamaran. After being told everyone would be gone by 8pm (apparently 'the cruiser's midnight' - but on New Years Eve?… Really?), we managed to make ourselves welcome till after midnight, and after one of the other boats had let of several old flares (far too close to our boats for my liking!). Then of course we couldn't just go to bed like everyone else, so we invited another couple around to Kadoona for a nightcap and the inevitable drunken sing-songing till 3am….Oh dear. I was not well. All day. Let me leave it at that and say that we celebrated New Years Day on the 2nd of January, and when we appeared outside for the first time since our celebrations….a round of applause broke out around the anchorage. Apparently some people were a little concerned that we hand't surfaced all day the previous day!
Coco Banderas... now THIS is livin' the dream baby
03 to 11 Jan 2012
Oh wow……THIS place was THE BEST. We said our goodbyes to our new friends and dragged ourselves about 6 miles away to another island group, dropping the hook between 4 very small, pretty islands and a couple of other boats. We thought it was crowded at that time. a few days later most of our friends had turned up (yay!), plus others, and there were 15 or so yachts anchored. But boy was this place incredible. You could swim to 3 of the islands easily enough, kayak around each or all of them. My favourite island was about 30 metres long, had a beautiful white beach around it, nice tall palms, a small but very deep fresh water hole (I think the sand/ coral filters out the salt somehow??) and an enormous ancient wrecked kayak which had been placed in a shaded area for barbies etc, as a table (or a bed). I was on this island every single day, more than once - I'd swim to it and around it, walk laps around it (you don't get to walk much, and you know I love to walk), play beach ball on it (a small version of tennis, with wooden rackets), lie on it, drink on it, snorkel round it, kayak around it and to it….you get the message….oh and also did our washing on it, carting water in buckets from the well to the dinghy, enjoying the best ever while doing laundry. I could have stayed there forever. Seriously. Ahhhhh a new line has come about for us …'we will always have the Cocos'……
Just because the festive season was over didn't make it any less festive. I learnt how to play bingo with the women of the anchorage (great fun, luckily they took it easy on me, I think they are quite serious about it), sunset drinks on 'my' island on the kayak, Ian went snorkelling with the lads and caught his first couple of lobster, sunset drinks on friends yachts. We were the smallest yacht amongst our friends (by at least a few metres) so we were a little concerned about inviting too many people over. Still, we managed to fit 8 of us in our tiny cockpit (luckily we were 'comfortable' with each other by then) for sunset drinks. Drinks ended at midnight after a drunken music session (didn't you play that song already Ian?) combining guitar, gin, flute and whisky. So now no one will believe us when we say come over for 'sunset drinks'.
Gunboat Island, Porvenir and The Lemmon Cays
Gearing up to leave paradise
11 to 18 Jan 2012
Oops....perhaps it's time to get outta here?
We summoned all our willpower to leave the Coco's. Unfortunately we had to keep moving or we risked staying there for years. We had a very rare and lovely down wind sail in through all the islands to Gunboat Island where we stayed for the night, recovering from our long 18 mile passage…..it had nothing on the Coco 's. The bar has been set far too high now. The next day we went to Porvenir to officially check out of Panama (and in and out of the San Blas, they are quite relaxed there). And the day after we went to the West Lemmon, the land of $1 wine and internet (but not a very picturesque area). We felt the need to check in with the world, but I spent an hour on the net and that was long enough to know I wasn't really missing out on anything. The best thing here was buying some incredible beautiful molas (intricate hand sewn pictures and patterns) from a he-she named Lisa. She does amazing work and has a great reputation.
The winds were very strong but we motored to the East Lemmons (very windy but very pretty) to spend our last few days getting ready for the next leg of our journey, which we knew was going to be difficult. We weren't very social here, I guess because our minds were trying to prepare for what was to come. We cooked, cleaned, checked and rechecked things, did passage plans, changed the big headsail for the small (in prep for bad weather). It's always the same, no matter how many times you do passages. There is ALWAYS a big list of things to do, prepare and put away before you go in order to make the boat seaworthy. Then the opposite when you are arrive and anchor, to make the boat more homely.
Panama to Curacao (ABC Islands)
H…E…L…L….
18 to 28 Jan 2012
At least, if there is a Hell, this trip would be my version of it. I refer you back to that horrible trip from NZ to the Austral Islands almost a year ago…..it was in the same league. We were both mentally prepared for a very tough trip and we did everything we could to prepare Kadoona for it as well. So many miles and experiences over the last 12 months, but this is the one that broke me.
In a straight line it's about 700 nm from San Blas to the ABC Islands, but we travelled almost twice that with all our tacking back and forth trying to make way. But, the north east trade winds are in full swing and our required direction was exactly north east. We dragged ourselves away from the San Blas with a tear in the eye and many great memories. We hadn't told anyone we were leaving since most of them thought we were slightly mad (we will no doubt be known fondly as 'the couple going the WRONG way') and we didn't want any negative vibes. The conditions were not ideal (3-4m swell, 20knot wind) but we it had already come down a little and we needed to make the dreaded 'Corner' before things picked up again, as it never lulled for long. This 'Corner' I speak of is roughly between Cartagena and Santa Marta, Columbia. Both the wind and swell are intense in this area and wrap around the coast, making your life rather unpleasant (only if you are trying to go the 'wrong way' of course). The swell on this side of the world is short and choppy and comes at you from every direction. I never thought I'd say this but give me the Pacific and day with it's lovely long ocean swells.
Anyway, by the time we got to The Corner we were beating into 35knots and 5m waves. Glorious. Cartagena was in our sights for a very very long time, tacking in and out, trying with all our heart to get PAST it. Thank goodness we had the small headsail up because we would've damaged the big one for sure. One of the most frustrating things was that the wind would rise and fall by as much as 10 knots every couple of minutes, making it near impossible to set the sails for such a wind - not enough sail up and we didn't have enough power to plough through the waves, too much and the sails weren't too happy (and neither was the crew). So all that and the constant tacking close to the shore, ships everywhere and waves into the cockpit, the terrible banging of the waves and the horrible motion of the ocean and this trip made for a very unhappy family. Even the captain wasn't his normal happy-go-lucky self either.
Normally we'd do little jobs on a passage - a bit of sewing repairs, make some bread or a cake, maybe a few emails (well in the Pacific anyway). We didn't do much of anything on this passage apart from try to keep the boat going and get some sleep. Luckily I'd cooked several days worth of meals prior to leaving, since neither of us were too inspired to be cooking meals from scratch. Even crackers and cheese for lunch was a pain. Even getting into bed was a pain. Going to the toilet was even more of a hassle. Australia Day, normally a much celebrated occasion, came and went without a "Aussie Aussie Aussie Oi Oi Oi" muttered! Although we did have a drink, it'd be un-Australian not to!
To top off such a charming trip, in the last few days before arriving at our destination we had 3 knots of current against us. In our last 24 hours we travelled a whopping great distance of 20nm! We could see where we needed to go, we were SO close, but we couldn't make it in before nightfall and since there were no lights to guide us in, it was another night at sea for us. It was torture. We arrived eventually in Spanish Water, Curacao, slightly broken and wearily triumphant. Due to so much banging, Ian had to WINCH our anchor chain up out of it's locker in order to free it enough for us to anchor. But finally, we were secure and stopped, albeit in a very windy anchorage. It appears there is no relief from the trade winds here.
After this trip I've decided I may spare you all another session of my whinging by opting out of the last couple of legs of our trip, through the Atlantic into colder climes….if I spend a few weeks relaxing on a beach somewhere instead it might kinder to myself, Ian and poor old Kadoona (if we can get some crew for Ian). I DID tell you all I wasn't a sailor, didn't I??? But until then, we just have one more tough trip to do (haven't I heard that somewhere before?)…..
In a straight line it's about 700 nm from San Blas to the ABC Islands, but we travelled almost twice that with all our tacking back and forth trying to make way. But, the north east trade winds are in full swing and our required direction was exactly north east. We dragged ourselves away from the San Blas with a tear in the eye and many great memories. We hadn't told anyone we were leaving since most of them thought we were slightly mad (we will no doubt be known fondly as 'the couple going the WRONG way') and we didn't want any negative vibes. The conditions were not ideal (3-4m swell, 20knot wind) but we it had already come down a little and we needed to make the dreaded 'Corner' before things picked up again, as it never lulled for long. This 'Corner' I speak of is roughly between Cartagena and Santa Marta, Columbia. Both the wind and swell are intense in this area and wrap around the coast, making your life rather unpleasant (only if you are trying to go the 'wrong way' of course). The swell on this side of the world is short and choppy and comes at you from every direction. I never thought I'd say this but give me the Pacific and day with it's lovely long ocean swells.
Anyway, by the time we got to The Corner we were beating into 35knots and 5m waves. Glorious. Cartagena was in our sights for a very very long time, tacking in and out, trying with all our heart to get PAST it. Thank goodness we had the small headsail up because we would've damaged the big one for sure. One of the most frustrating things was that the wind would rise and fall by as much as 10 knots every couple of minutes, making it near impossible to set the sails for such a wind - not enough sail up and we didn't have enough power to plough through the waves, too much and the sails weren't too happy (and neither was the crew). So all that and the constant tacking close to the shore, ships everywhere and waves into the cockpit, the terrible banging of the waves and the horrible motion of the ocean and this trip made for a very unhappy family. Even the captain wasn't his normal happy-go-lucky self either.
Normally we'd do little jobs on a passage - a bit of sewing repairs, make some bread or a cake, maybe a few emails (well in the Pacific anyway). We didn't do much of anything on this passage apart from try to keep the boat going and get some sleep. Luckily I'd cooked several days worth of meals prior to leaving, since neither of us were too inspired to be cooking meals from scratch. Even crackers and cheese for lunch was a pain. Even getting into bed was a pain. Going to the toilet was even more of a hassle. Australia Day, normally a much celebrated occasion, came and went without a "Aussie Aussie Aussie Oi Oi Oi" muttered! Although we did have a drink, it'd be un-Australian not to!
To top off such a charming trip, in the last few days before arriving at our destination we had 3 knots of current against us. In our last 24 hours we travelled a whopping great distance of 20nm! We could see where we needed to go, we were SO close, but we couldn't make it in before nightfall and since there were no lights to guide us in, it was another night at sea for us. It was torture. We arrived eventually in Spanish Water, Curacao, slightly broken and wearily triumphant. Due to so much banging, Ian had to WINCH our anchor chain up out of it's locker in order to free it enough for us to anchor. But finally, we were secure and stopped, albeit in a very windy anchorage. It appears there is no relief from the trade winds here.
After this trip I've decided I may spare you all another session of my whinging by opting out of the last couple of legs of our trip, through the Atlantic into colder climes….if I spend a few weeks relaxing on a beach somewhere instead it might kinder to myself, Ian and poor old Kadoona (if we can get some crew for Ian). I DID tell you all I wasn't a sailor, didn't I??? But until then, we just have one more tough trip to do (haven't I heard that somewhere before?)…..
Curacao
A little piece of Holland
28 Jan 2012 to…..
It's the simple things you miss when you've been on passage or in a remote area for a while. Like sleeping on a flat bed. And FRESH fruit and veg! Oh what a glorious glorious day when I could buy a crispy green lettuce and rocket for the first time in months! I had to practice a serious amount self restraint and only buy what we could fit in the fridge, repeatedly muttering to myself like a crazy lady - I can come back tomorrow, I can come back tomorrow! Ian went straight for the meat section.
This was an interesting island to explore, it's dark history of the West African Slave trade contrasting with brightly painted facades of traditional Dutch buildings. The 'skyline' on each side of the waterway is a pretty impressive rainbow and further back there are loads of winding streets and alleys to explore. Tourism is a fairly major earner here, with some days up 5 enormous cruise ships berthing in Willemstad. I was in the city when three ships were in, and that was chaotic enough. All the exclusive (= expensive) shops like Tommy Hillfeger, Lacoste and Guess are all here (I assume because of the cruise market, I'm positive the locals can't afford them). I preferred the markets and little art galleries but couldn't resist a peak through the polished glass of Tiffany's and the like…you know, just to see how the other half live…
After months in French, then Spanish speaking countries you'd think we'd be well prepared? Nope, here they speak a local dialect called Papiamento which has it's origins in West African, Spanish and English languages. Or people might speak English, or maybe Dutch or possibly Spanish. So I got very confused as to how to say a simple hello and just used English. Failing that I'd revert to my limited Spanish. Failing that I'd revert to hand gesturing!
Inevitably, this was also a repair stop and we sent both our sails to a sail maker for some TLC. While tending to some rust spots Ian discovered a crack in one of the parts that connects the rigging to the hull. Oops!!
Lucky that didn't crack the whole way through a few days earlier, that could've been a disaster. Quite apart form the damage that could've caused, I'm not sure how we would've made it in, since we were low on fuel also! Once we have the sails back and the equipment we have order we will get the boat back together and hit the seas yet again. From Curacao to a yet-to-be-named island in the Eastern Caribbean. Of course now, we need to go east, and the winds are coming directly from the east…..aaaaaaaaarrrrrgh!