Sooooo…..  Donny didn’t have the mooring balls that we reserved.  Dude.  Didn’t you say that you were coming yesterday?  Would we mind just taking the end of his “T” dock for the price of a mooring ball?  As we sidle in, there’s a welcoming party in the form of the half dozen liveaboards that call Donny’s home, ready to catch our lines.  Nose to tail, “Erben Renewal” and Alizann take up the whole “T”, and then some.  1600, but it’s 5 O’clock somewhere.  Time for sips and meet the neighbors.  Donny tells us that John, our neighbor who singlehands his 48’ DeFever is a “scientist who can fix anything”.  Turns out he’s a physicist who comes here every winter, and has done some wiring on the dock and some repairs on Donny’s outboard-nice guy.  The next day, Suzanne and I decide to ride our bikes up to White Sound, where the Green Turtle Club and Brendal’s Dive Shop are located.  The GTC is a destination resort that features deep sea fishing charters and diving.  After the Green Turtle, we ride over to the Bluff House Marina, which was owned by the sister of the owner of the GTC and fierce competitors (Ahhh, family dynamics).  Their bar was on the Ocean side, so we stopped for a Coke and some Conch fritters before our ride back.  On the way back around Black Sound, we stopped at Abaco Yacht Center to check out the yard, as a few of the folks that we had met the previous month hauled their boats there for the summer while they went back to the States (just thinkin’).  Unfortunately, their lift was a smidge too small for The Girl.  Before we got home we stopped at Leeward Marina, where a couple of Krogens were tied up.  Unfortunately, no one was on board, but we did discover that “Tintean” was docked there also (see “self-appointed dock mistress” Dismal Swamp blog, November 2014).  Sarah filled us in on the local happenings, and let us know that the New Plymouth Liquor Store and Café was a good spot to hang out in the early evenings.  We rode right past Donny’s and into New Plymouth to check out the town.  Established in 1786 by Loyalists seeking shelter from the revolutionary winds sweeping America, it’s the largest town on Green Turtle Cay.  Like many towns that we’ve visited along the Sea of Abaco, the folks here eke out a living by fishing and the tourist trade.   After our tour of the hardware store and grocery markets (do we see a trend here?), we head to the Liquor Store AND Café for some conversation with the locals.  Sarah and her hubby, Ken, were also in attendance.  In the evening, we headed to the Sundowner Bar, as we heard that their pizzas were good (we were getting tired of fresh fish).  After a half dozen fruity rum drinks and 2 pizzas with the Erbens, the 4 of us walked home, only to find out that Steve’s credit card was missing.  He wasn’t sure where he had seen it last and spent the night racking his brain about it.  By morning, he had concluded that he’d left it at Sundowner’s, having dropped it at the bar to start a tab.  When Suz and I picked up the tab, he forgot all about the fact that his card was still with the bartender.  We planned to head out to the bay to anchor for another night, and since he remembered where the card was, he figured that he’d dinghy in at 1600 when they opened.  Meantime, Donny had called the owners at home (they weren’t there), and left them a message.  Sooooo……..while all this drama was going on, Suz is going to take a few pics before we leave.  “Do you know where the camera is?”  “Yeah, it’s in the backpack”.  “Where’s the backpack?”  You get the picture.  The camera, a couple hundred pesos, Suzanne’s I.D.,a credit card and very importantly, our Woody’s of St John, USVI long-neck, zip-up beer koozies are all in the pack which I conveniently stowed under the table at Sundowner’s.  Now things are serious.  Suz and I figure that our chances of recovery will be better if we remain Donny’s customers for another day or so.  Not sure if I mentioned that Donny is a third generation Green Turtle resident and either knows or is related to everyone. S & J head out on the tide, and we stay.  Long story short, the pack returned, all contents intact, around 1400.  S & J recovered their card as well, a testimony to the honesty of the folks around these parts.  That evening, Suz and I join Donny, Julie and some friends of theirs for desert at their house.  They had just finished a dinner of BigEye Snapper which they had caught that day while bottom fishing in 600’ (!!) of water.  Some specialized fishing rigs.  Electric reels, five pound sinkers, and little strobe lights to attract fish that attached to the 150# test braided line.  Even with the electric reels, it took 7 minutes to reel in from that depth.  Donny related that they fished as deep as 1000’ with these rigs.  While at Green Turtle Cay, we had a visit from Roberto & Maria, Krogen friends from Rhode Island, who were over at a marina in White Sound, enjoying a visit with their son.  Also, while on a dinghy ride over to White Sound, we discovered that “Salacious” was anchored there, and we were able to have a short visit with Jim, Louise being on shore doing laundry (see Cumberland Island blog).  While cruising, it’s all about the friends you make along the way. 

We took off the next morning on the tide, and met up with “Erben Renewal” out in the bay for our cruise up to Manjack Cay, a private island where the sign on the beach said “Trespassers welcome”.  Over the next 3 days, Steve, Suz and I went over to the Atlantic side to snorkel and scuba.  We saw lots of critters, including lobsters (out of season), the biggest Hogfish Snapper any of us had ever seen (no spear with us), and several good sized Grouper, as well as the usual assortment of reef fish.  One day, while snorkeling, I spotted 2 juvenile Spotted Drum, which are truly beautiful fish (which we had never seen on over 300 dives).  The highlight, however, was 6 Eagle Rays flying in formation through a chasm in the reef over a sandy bottom.  Suzanne was the lucky observer.  She was in the water first, and saw all 6, while Steve, second one in caught a look at 3, while the slowpoke, Yours Truly only saw the 1 which was lagging behind.  The 4 of us hiked the island, which has several trails, forged and maintained by the folks in the 6 households on the isle.  I never get tired of walking deserted beaches, but all of the flotsam and jetsam littering the high water mark truly drives home a point.  We simply NEED to stop manufacturing non-biodegradable containers.  They never go away, and keep piling up and cluttering our environment.

Thursday, the 23rd.  Short travel day today up to Powell Cay where it’s said, is some good diving/snorkeling.  By 1115, we had the anchor down, and were headed over to the Atlantic side of the Cay.  We use our “look bucket” (a 5 gallon pail that I cut the bottom out of and replaced with clear plexiglass. When placed in the water, it’s like a glass bottom boat as you look down through it) to find promising spots without getting in the water.  The reef here was coral on top of limestone, with some really cool chasms cut throughout, dropping from 8’ to 35’ over sandy bottom.  The effect was pretty cool, with the bright sun filtering through the water, causing the multicolored coral and fish to shimmer.  I spotted a large Grouper, and yelled to Steve to come over with his Hawaiian Sling (spear).  The chase was on, and it turned out that there were 2 Groupers hanging out together.  Steve and I stalked them for about 15 minutes, as they swam from one hidey hole to another, then down to the bottom at 35’, changing color from green to brown to striped as they moved to different surroundings.  Steve dove for a couple shots, but couldn’t get one off as the fish darted into a hole or swam into deep water.  It seemed like the fish knew our limits and were just teasing us.  Finally, in frustration, Steve asked me if I wanted to try.  I’d never done it before, but jumped at the chance.  That Grouper was just sitting on the bottom with his stripes on, knowing that he was out of reach.  Hyperventilating to the point of dizziness, I dove down, and swam along the bottom with as much nonchalance as I could muster, as this was a “head game” now.  My lungs bursting , I turned and lined up a shot as the fish presented me with a good target.  Bam!  The spear hit him, but bounced off his spine, falling harmlessly to the sand.  By now, my head was swimming and finning to the surface took forever, seemingly in a tunnel as my peripheral vision was dimming from lack of oxygen.  The Old Machine ain’t what he used to be.  Could swim 50 yards under water and not break a sweat-not no mo’.  I tried to swim down and retrieve Steve’s spear, but just couldn’t do it.  He finally did, and we called it a day.  Game, set and match Grouper.  The Captain’s birthday celebration that evening consisted of frozen Painkillers and apps, followed by Greek salad and homemade spaghetti (my favorite) washed down with a couple bottles of Ecluse Cabernet.  I was about to burst when Julia whipped out her now-famous Tequila (Ta’ Kill Ya’) Lime pie for desert.  For the man who needs nothing, my birthday gift from S & J was a bag of Kettle chips and a Cuban.  Yeah, Baby.  It was breezy with some swells churning up the water the next day, so we’ll come back for those Grouper next year, when they’re bigger.  Instead of snorkin’, we all piled into the tenders, and rode over to Spanish Cay, a private island a couple of miles distant.  We poked around the marina and resort there, and had lunch at their bar.  The Grouper was excellent.  After lunch, we all headed back to the boats.  Suzanne and I hiked across Powell to the ocean side of this uninhabited island and a deserted, couple mile long sand beach.  After that, we hiked a trail up to a bluff overlooking the boats and snapped a few.  After our shore expedition, Suz and I just sat on The Girl and read until dusk, when S & J came over to talk about the weather.  No kidding.  As we head north, finishing up with The Sea of Abaco, there are   fewer options for anchoring in certain weather conditions, and it’s nice to have a “Plan B” if necessary.  Comparing notes, it was reassuring to see that we had come up with the same options and conclusions as S & J.  The weather conditions looked to be rather unsettled for the next week, with multiple Lows marching across the Southeastern United States and heading our way.  We agreed that unless things changed dramatically, we wouldn’t be crossing back to the States very soon, but when that window opens, we’ll be through it.  Saturday, the 25th, we’ll be off to Alans-Pensacola Cay (used to be 2, but is now 1 island after a hurricane).

-Later

I’m Baaaaack!

Saturday, the 11th.  Dick & Jan left this morning at 1100.  We were sorry to see them go, ‘cause there are no friends like old friends.  We had a great week together, but the physical activities were somewhat limited as they’re still trying to recover from their horrendous automobile accident last Memorial Day (see May 2014 blog).  Boy, one minute you’re celebrating your anniversary, having dinner with your kids, the next minute, your life is changed forever.  Said it before, I’m sayin’ it again.  If you’ve got a Dream, do it now.  Get off the sidelines, and into the Game.  We did it, and haven’t looked back for ONE SECOND.  (End sermon).  We spent the rest of the day doing boatchores and produce shopping, feeling supergrateful for just Being.

We liked Great Guana Cay anchorage so much (the first and second time) that we decided to return for a few days and just chill before heading up to Green Turtle Cay.  It was a beautiful 10 mile ride, with the bonus being that “Erben Renewal” was anchored there also, having just arrived from Man O’ War Cay.  By the end of the afternoon, there were over 30 boats in the anchorage, presumably for the weekly Sunday barbeque at Nipper’s.  Suz and I opted to stay on ze boat, floating off the stern in the crystal clear aquamarine water, lifejackets between our legs, and a sip in our hands hands (a technique patented by our daughter, Alison, on a previous bareboat charter in the Virgin Islands).  After our dip, the Admiral and I were having sips when we heard a loud CRUUUUNCH,  Holy Crap, Batman,  that sailboat that was motoring through the anchorage is now sitting beam to the wind, hard aground on a charted rock.  As we watch the drama unfold, a couple of dinghies from other boats come alongside and try to pull her off.  Bad news, the tide is falling, it ain’t moving and starting to exhibit a rather precarious lean.  Enter “White Star”.  Still no joy, and things aren’t lookin’ so good.  Troy, from Dive Guana, whips out with his 250 horses, we throw him our 100’ line (the stricken boat has none), and he gives a tug.  The line is so taught, it’s audibly singing, and still nothing.  A perpendicular vector rotates the vessel, and before long, they’re making inches of headway.  As they toss off our lines, and the dinghies disperse, we ask them where they’re heading.  “Outta here” is the reply, and they literally sail into the sunset with a “God bless you all”.  The following day, Suz and I headed to shore for a last look at the beach by Nipper’s, and to get some milk for Julia.  After that, Steve’s boat repairs complete, we all headed up to Baker’s Bay in the dinghies.  Baker’s is a private enclave, with residences and a marina where 70’ yachts look like dinghies compared to the megayachts berthed there.  They don’t allow us boat trash come ashore, but can’t keep us from tooling around the marina and ogling.  I guess that if we really wanted to rub shoulders with the rich and famous, we could ante up the $6/ft. that they get to dock there.  The 147’ Feadship at the dock named “Winning Drive” had to be a football dudes ride, and sure enough, when Suz Googled it, it turned out to be the owner of the Baltimore Ravens.  After dinner, we all headed in to “Grabber’s”, a bar at the head of the bay for sips.  Steve got us all pretty wound up, and a good time was had by all. 

The Ides of April.  Got a dose of reality yesterday when the CPA sent us our return to okay an E File.  Bad medicine-I just want my bride and my boat.  The Girl got a nice freshwater bath yesterday, courtesy of the first rain we’ve seen in weeks, complete with lightning and thunder as we were waiting for Steve & Julia to come over for dinner.  No sips beforehand, though, as we were all naughty bears the night before, and our livers were in hyperdrive.  As I unfolded a chair on the back porch, I SPOTTED A F%$#@!G ROACH!  (no, not that kind, a creepycrawly one).  This is especially bad news, as the Admiral is fastidious about no cardboard food boxes and the like which contain roach eggs on the boat.  I’m hopin’ that this guy was a lone cowboy that just flew aboard, but we’ll keep our eyes peeled.  An old salt told me that the way to get rid of these guys is to put out saucers of antifreeze, which is sweet, and deadly.  I’ll put some out in the dark spots and see what develops.  Anyway, it’s1030, and we’re on our way back to Great Guana Cay, this time to the north end, where we’re hoping that the weather will be settled enough that we can anchor in this poorly sheltered bay.  We got some intel that says the diving is good there, and we’re ready to get wet.  Steve’s been sharpening up his spear in hopes of nailing some dinner for us.

Soooo, The North Anchorage at Great Guana was beautiful.  Crystal clear blue water, 20’ over sand.  Out at the reef, scuba was just okay, but there was a pretty good assortment of tropical fishes to check out.  Steve speared a Bermuda Chubb while he was snorkeling, as Suz and I hit some deeper water.  Julia had us over for some pork and chicken satay at dinnertime, and it was delicious.  We’ve had better nights at anchor, as there was just a slight easterly breeze, with swells coming in from the north.  Made for a rather rolly night, but hey, who was listening to Yours Truly when he suggested that we might want to move up to No Name Cay after our dive?  Next morning, we transited the Whale Cay Passage, which is notorious for crazy seas in certain conditions.  The Bahamians call it a “Rage” when the seas, tides, and wind combine to do their evil magic in this locale.  On this day, benign was the word, and not by accident.  We do everything we can to keep it pleasure boating.  No Name Cay’s anchorage was an absolute joy, and we spent the day at anchor, taking the tenders out to the reef for some snorkin’.  The island is inhabited by an extended family of feral pigs, several of which swam out to the tender to meet us as we approached the shore laden with garbage, er, I mean pig delicacies.  Too funny!  We headed over to Black Sound on Green Turtle Cay in the late afternoon on a rising tide, as we needed the depth to get in the channel.  Donny, from Donny’s Marina and Boat Rental came out of the harbor to guide us in, as the charts showed absolutely not enough water for us to get in.  Now safely in the harbor, the interweb is only moderately maddeningly slow, so here it comes.  Our plan is to stay here for the next few days.

-Later

Good Saturday morning from sunny Guana Cay.  Our trip to Hopetown was not a direct one, as the Sea of Abaco is very shallow (from 1’-20’ at low tide), and we had to travel on a course where there was enough water to cover The Girls’ knees.  Even though we called about a mooring ball and were told that none were available, we thought we’d head in to see what the scoop was.  As we glided into the harbor at low tide, we brushed the bottom in the MIDDLE of the channel.  Well, the field was tight, boats bow to stern in a really tight space, with definitely no room to anchor.  Thought we’d call on the VHF one more time for a ball, even though we saw no empty ones.  As it happened, the Hopetown Marina (pontoon) had pulled next to us on our quarter, and guided us to the only empty ball in the harbor-Yea!  When we called Julia & Steve, whom we had left in the anchorage that morning, they told us that they had run up here in their dinghy earlier, and had snagged an empty ball and were on their way with the big boat.  We spent the next couple days exploring Hopetown.  First on the agenda was a trip to the BaTelCo office on Tuesday morning (the only day of the week that they were open) to get our IPad and and S&J’s telephone SIM card issues ironed out.  The lady couldn’t have been nicer-at the end of the day we found that even though the folks at North Bimini had sold us the cards, they neglected to tell us that they had to be activated on an already functioning phone to be operational (short version).  S&J’s phone was too old, and locked, and couldn’t be used.  Enter Suzanne (the one who gives me static about my collection of spare parts).  She had 2 phones that we weren’t using, so activated their card and gave them a phone-simple, huh?  A sojourn to the 2 markets revealed that the trend of very little produce available would continue here at Hopetown.  The 4 of us biked all over the island which had some beautiful homes and many gorgeous views of the Atlantic.  The obligatory stop at Papa Nasty’s for barbeque was well worth the ride.  Papa’s fare, cooked on a small outdoor smoker and served out of the side of a broken-down travel trailer (ala local carnivals) included pulled pork, smoked brisket, ribs, duck legs,burgers, fries, baked beans, and etc.  I had a brisket “sundae”, consisting of alternating layers of slaw, baked beans, and beef, all served in a 16oz. Styrofoam cup, Suzanne did the same with her pulled pork-Yum.  Evening sips and apps were provided by J&S aboard “Erben Renewal”, and consisted of killer “Painkillers”, venison sausage, fancy cheese, wasabi almonds, and…….Well, you get the picture.

After 3 nights on the ball, Suz and I took our leave while S & J had decided to stay for the week.  Our next stop was Man O’ War Cay, but first we would head out into the Atlantic past the reef, and wet a line or two.  Our first hookup, on a skirted Ballyhoo, was a billfish which promptly bent my heavy rod nearly double before snapping my 60 pound test line and running off with my rig.  Didn’t even have time to pull the rod outta the holder.  We never saw the second fish, but it was Something Really Big that bent over Jeff and Susies loaner rod, taking my favorite cedar plug and 50 yds. of line with it.  All the while, baitfish (we think they were Jacks) about 8-12” long were jumping out of the water for a half mile around us.  The third time was the charm, yielding a 23” Blackfin Tuna.  The filets gave us a good meal on the grill, and the little bits (due to my inept butchering skills) were chopped up to make some awesome tuna burgers.  After an hour and a half of fishing, we were out of frozen Ballyhoo, so we headed in to anchor off M.O.W. Cay.  Our dinghy ride in confirmed our suspicions that “town” would be like many others in the Abacos-a main drag wide enough for 2 golf carts (the main mode of transportation here) to pass, encircling the harbor, with very little else in the way of amenities.  M.O.W. Cay is the home of the Albury family, boatbuilders here for over a century.  They now build center console fiberglass craft, ranging from 20-27’ or so-we’ve seen them all over The Sea of Abaco.  Their sail shop also makes purses, bags, and duffels, which are sold widely in the islands.  The cart/kayak rental joint also had frozen Ballyhoo, so we replenished our bait supply before heading back to the Girl.

The next morning, after listening to the Cruisers Net, we headed over to Guana Cay, about 8 miles distant.  Cruisers Net.  There lots of them in different cruising destinations.  What is it?  A loosely organized, cooperative effort by cruising boaters to promote information sharing for the common good.  Held at a predetermined time each day, over the VHF radio, you might have the weather and sea conditions, safety information, spots by local businesses, public information, open mic for requests for expertise, or maybe spare parts, items for sale, i.e. creating a sense of community among cruisers.  Guana Cay was one of our favorite stops so far.  The anchorage was pretty, with crystal clear 12’ deep water.  The “town” wasn’t much to cheer about, but the infamous Nipper’s Bar was.  Not so much the bar, but the location, location, location.  Perched high upon the dunes on the Atlantic side, the view was beyond description, and the beach was walkable for a couple of miles.  All al fresco, the place was multi levels with a couple of small swimming pools incorporated into the fun.  First day we were there, the music was all Motown-sweet for this Detroit-born boy.  I have to say we spent more time than we should have over the three days that we were at G.C.  This morning, we finished up our current visit with beer and rum drinks while we watched the annual Easter egg hunt, wherein around 900 plastic eggs stuffed with coupons for everything from T shirts and baseball caps to gift certificates and cash money were hunted by children aged from 3 to 73.  The little kids hunted in the sand, while the big kids had to swim out to the reef, where the eggs had been sunk earlier in the morning.  What a hoot, and such a great vibe from sooooo many happy people.  It was hard to tear ourselves away, but by 1300 it was time to head back to The Girl, as we had to up anchor and roll over to Marsh Harbor, clean the boat, and await the arrival of our buddies, Dick and Jan, who will be flying in tomorrow (Monday) to spend some time with us.

Guessin’ I won’t be writin’ for a week or so, ‘cause we’ll have comp’ny, so see you in a bit.

Adios, and vaya con dios.

Buenos Dias,

 

Saturday, the 28.  The wind was calm last evening, but it’s coming up now, and the waves are starting to build as they roll into Buckaroon Bay.  Suz and I make the call to move back over to the anchorage on the west side of Tiloo Cay, “Erben Renewal” will stay here until we report in.  Sunny, cool, and the wind is howling as we make our way across the Sea.  Waves are breaking on the bow, sending walls of spray across the pilothouse.  We thought we’d tuck under the point where Tiloo juts out to Tavern Cay, but the waves are crashing on shore here, so we move to the north side, where, paradoxically, the seas are calmer.  The seas are on the bow, so the Girl is resting well at anchor.  After reporting in to S & J, they decide to stay put in Buckaroon.  A good day to do some office work and boat chores.  Suz still can’t get the SIM card that we bought in North Bimini to work, so we bite the bullet and sign up for Bahamas WiMax.  Their ad says that they cover the whole of the Bahamas, and have unlimited data for $105/mo.  The speed turns out to be FAST, and the signal is strong here (note to self for next year).  We have a quiet evening, watching 2 of the “Elite Eight’s” games from the NCAA basketball tournament.  After a calm night, we drop the tender and head over to some coral islets just south of us for some snorkeling.  Although the visibility is not great, the swim is pretty good.  Some small coral heads scattered along the sandy, grassy bottom provided shelter for a variety of fishes and invertebrates including: French and Queen Angelfish, Yellow Snapper, Blue striped Grunts, small Grouper, Parrotfish, Squirrelfish, Blue Wrasses, Sargeant Majors, a Moray Eel and etc.  Suz spotted a Lionfish (unfortunately, because this South Seas native is invasive here, has no predators, and is a voracious decimator of local species’ juveniles.  They’re now found from the Caribbean to the Carolinas, probably introduced, hopefully inadvertently, by humans.)  Invertebrates included: Anemones, Sea Cucumbers, Cassiopia Jellies, Starfish, Sponges, but sadly, no lobsters.  After warming up with hot showers, we headed over to “Cracker P’s”, a beach bar a few miles away in the hopes that cable TV was in residence.  The games were on CBS, which we don’t get on satellite (long story-see “The FCC are idiots”).  Good news, we parked for a few hours as we watched 2 pretty exciting games.  When we returned to the Girl, we found “Erben Renewal” had arrived after getting “waved” at Buckaroon.  While watching the games, the wind had come back up as the cold front rolled in.  By Monday morning it had clocked to northwest, and a cool 66 degrees.

-Later

Ahoy Mates!

There wasn’t really any place to anchor at Great Harbour Cay, so we went in to the dock at Great Harbour Cay Marina.  Across the narrow harbor from the marina was a row of 2 story apartment/ condo units, circa. 1960.  All had small docks and boats in front, and screened porches overlooking the harbor.  The marina had free well water for washdowns, so we took the opportunity to give the Girl a rinse before sips and dinner.  Suzanne whipped up some Asian slaw, and Steve grilled the Mahi for some fish tacos.  The following morning, we hauled the bikes down for a trip into “town”.  We stopped for a look at the grocery store, which had been stocked 2 days before by the weekly boat.  Packed into the 20’x20’ area was boxes and crates of whatever came in-pretty slim pickin’s.  Not much in the way of fresh produce, lots of pre-prepared canned stuff-Island life.  We rode every street in town, taking in the flavor of life on a remote island.  The map showed a road heading up to the northernmost point on the island, looked to be around 5 miles, so we decided to cruise out, as it looked like there might be a good view from there.  It was hot, hot, hot, and as the power line ended, we knew that we must be getting close.  The road just ended in a dense forest of scrub and impassable undergrowth-no view here-#@$%!!.  On the way back, we took a side trip out to the ocean, where we had the pleasure of taking a little dip in a crescent-shaped cove with aquamarine water.  Don’t know why, but the return trip always seems to be shorter than the one out-maybe it’s because of the “unknown factor” heading into new territory.  There, that’s my semi-deep thought for the day.  Our next trip was to Great Abaco Island, about 70 miles away, but we figured that we could cut 20 miles off by heading ‘round the north end of Great Harbour, and anchor on the east side before heading to Abaco.  Strangely enough, there was a beach bar at a cove that looked promising for said anchoring, so we rode out to take a peek.  A few beers, snorkeling, and conch fritters later, we all pronounced the bay suitable for a jumping-off point.  That evening, we dug into the King Mackerel, grilled exquisitely by Steve, and served over a salad, with butternut squash by Julia.

Sunday morning we were off by 0900.  Passing around the north end, we encountered 2 giant cruise ships, anchored off their private islands.  A good time was being had by all, with some passengers onshore for beach activities, while others parasailed and took glass-bottom boat tours.  I had wondered where on earth the parasailing boats and glass-bottoms at the harbor were finding any business out here, and now it made abundant sense.  We got the hooks down in 8’ of water just off the beach, and ran out to the reef to do some snorkeling.  While out there, we passed a Bahamian fisherman who held up the biggest lobster that I’ve ever seen-it must have been 10-12#.  Dude!  The previous day while at the bar, we noticed that they had WiFi, so Suz and I toodled in to use the facilities, and get caught up on some housekeeping bidness.  Rumor had it that their burgers were THE BEST, so we had the ulterior motive of busting out of the fish diet.  Internet was as advertised, and after a beer we were just about ready for that “American Creation on Which I Feed”, when our waitress came around with our bill, as they closed at 1600 on Sunday.  Dang!  We ordered a couple more beers, which she brought us in an ice bucket, told us that she would leave the router on for us, and asked us to turn off the fans when we left.  Well, we had the place to ourselves, and hung out for another hour or so, before heading back to the Girl and defrosting some burgs that we had vacuum-sealed and frozen a few months previously.

By 0630, we were anchor up out of Petit Cay anchorage, bound for Schooner Bay on the East (Atlantic) side of Great Abaco.  Winds on this mostly cloudy day were from 10-14 knots out of the southwest, which put the 1-3’ seas on our beam.  The occasional 5 footers precluded fishing, as we didn’t want to stop if we hooked one up (what a couple of weenies).  When we turned the corner and headed North up the coast of Abaco, it was a welcome relief to have the seas on our stern.  There was rain all around us, evident on radar, but we never saw any.  Steve and Julia of Erben Renewal, 2 miles behind us, got a nice fresh water wash from a passing squall.  Schooner Bay is the only harbor on the Atlantic side of Abaco from the south end to the Sea of Abaco.  It is a man-made harbor that is part of a rather ambitious development.  In 2005, the Schooner Bay project was begun with an initial outlay of $90M, all by a single investor.  The harbor was completed, and all utilities were in place for the proposed 400 unit community by 2007.  Apparently, the business plan was sound, as the economic downturn of 2008 was survived while the developer built a geothermal plant to provide heat/AC for the community, as well as a hydroponic farm, and a reverse osmosis system to provide fresh water.  Currently, 43 single family owned units are built, and another dozen lots have been sold.  The vision is for this to become a self-sustaining, walkable, green town, complete with its’ own public works, and retail center.  I’d love to come back in 10 years to see how it all pans out.  From Schooner Bay, we headed up to Little Harbor, on the south end of the Sea of Abaco.  The day was sunny, and we wet a couple of lines.  All we caught was a 4’ Barracuda for our troubles.  They’re a real pain in the butt, as they’re not edible, they eat your bait, and they’re all teeth and muscle while you’re trying to get them off your hook to throw back.  We hit the harbor entrance at high tide, which is the only time that the Fat Girl can squeeze over the bar, and were able to snag a mooring ball outside Pete’s Pub, an Abaco landmark.  Pete’s dad, Randolph Johnston, was an art professor at Smith College in Massachusetts, as well as an accomplished sculptor.  In the 1950’s, he decided that he had had enough, and moved his family of 4 to this remote location, with the intention of building an artists’ community here.  While building a home, the family lived in a natural cave on the bay.  For the first few years, he made a living selling affordable (cheap) art which he boated over to tourists on Nassau.  He eventually put together a studio, and built a foundry, where he produced his cast bronze sculptures.  Today, some of his works reside in the Vatican, as well as other prestigious museums around the world.  Deceased in 1992, his son, Pete, carries on the family tradition of casting in bronze, his focus being on marine wildlife rather than the human form, in which Randolph had excelled.

Over the next few days, we bounced from anchorage to anchorage, doing our best to avoid the 14 to 30 knot winds, which changed direction daily.  We overnighted in Lynyard Cay, Tilloo Key, and Buckaroon Bay.  We snorkeled, swam, and soaked up some rays, while waiting for the winds to abate.  We celebrated Suzanne’s 60th with Steve and Julia on board “Alizann” in Buckaroon Bay.  S & J brought over a bottle of Veuve and Julia’s specialty Tequila Key Lime Pie (a.k.a. TaKillYa’ Lime Pie), and we feasted on filets which we had brought from Michigan, washed down with a 2009 Ecluse Cabernet Sauvignon.  I’m not sure if it was a step up or a step down from her 50th in Paris, but it sure was different.  Looks like more wind tomorrow (Sunday), but then it’s supposed to calm down and get warm again.

-Later 

Okay, my bad.  Just having too much fun in Marathon to blog, as it’s a real effort for me to sit and write.  Here’s the catch-up on our two week stay in Marathon.  Although we were initially planning to stay for just a few days, mechanical problems and wind and sea state kept us a bit longer.  As we tooled into Marathon, a call to the harbormistress revealed no room at the inn.  Suz and Susie got on the horn, and Susie found that Pancho’s Fuel dock (&Marina) had 2 spots available for us.  As I headed down the fairway, I had my doubts about the size of the slips.  Tatianna assured us they were wide enough for us.  When I rotated to back in, Suzanne kept telling me to pull forward to clear the pilings on the stern.  When my bow pulpit rotated over the boat across from us’ stern, I thought the guys eyes were going to pop out of his head.  As we eased back into the slip, I didn’t need to worry about drifting sideways, as the keel was aground.  Well, no harm, no foul.  After Jeff backed in next to us, we got a standing ovation from the patrons at Burdine’s bar, where the restaurant was emptied as we came in.  Later, we got on the waiting list for a mooring ball with the City.

Soooo, here’s the skinny on the clutch issue.  The generator motor has a power take-off on the front, which turns an auxiliary hydraulic pump that provides power for our emergency get-home motor.  Between the PTO and the hydraulic pump is a clutch, which is disengaged most of the time.  The only time that we use it routinely is when we need a little extra “oomph” in the form of increased hydraulic pressure for our anchor windlass and/or bow thruster.  Of course, if the main engine cacked, we would need the pump to power the get-home.  You may recall that I changed out the clutch when I discovered it had vomited its’ bearings during a routine belt change in Stuart.  When the new one started tap, tap, tapping in The Everglades, I took it as a bad sign.  Pitt Industries, the clutch manufacturer, was nice enough to send another new one to Marathon for us (no $).  Meanwhile I ordered some other parts, just to make sure that every link in the chain was pristine.  Long story longer, it took a while for all the stuff to arrive.  After all the goodies were delivered, the new clutch, coupler, and hub were installed in an hour or two, with Jeff supplying the much-needed muscle.  Sounds good, looks good, we’ll see how it does.  While there, I also took the opportunity to change oil, filters, impellers, and transmission fluids.  Hope the Girl is happy.

We had plenty of time to play, too.  Marathon is just across the 7 Mile Bridge from Big Pine Key, where Suzanne and I had met while on Spring Break from the Universities of North Carolina and Michigan, respectively-lots of fond memories of good times for us here.  The afternoon that we arrived, we rode our bikes over to another marina where Betty, on another Krogen, “Lili”, had graciously agreed to accept our mail for us.  Betty and “Lili” were gone, but Rob and Sue, aboard “Papillon” had the goods.  They also invited us to Burdines restaurant/bar, where local Krogen owners congregate every Friday night to listen to live music and swap lies.  That evening, we all walked over to meet the gang, eat, and listen to some tunes.  It turned out that there were about 20 or so current or former KK owners in Marathon that get together regularly during the winter, including the Wednesday morning breakfasts at the Sunset Grille.  When you have a Krogen, you don’t just have a boat, you’re part of a cult, and they’re everywhere!

There was lots to keep us occupied:                                                                                                                                                                                                                    We walked the old 7 Mile bridge, which is maintained (sorta) for bikes and peds only.  The 4 mile walk out to Pigeon Key and back with a mile bike ride to and from gave us an opportunity for a little exercise in the mornings.  Suzanne and I remember driving over it before the new bridge was built.(1982)               The Turtle Hospital on Marathon treats injured turtles from all over the Keys, helping to preserve some nearly-endangered species.  Most of their patients are released after stays ranging from a couple of months to a year.  Some are permanent residents, having injuries severe enough that they couldn’t survive in the ocean again.  The most common of these injuries they call “bubble butt”.  When a turtle gets an impact injury, they often develop a malady wherein they get a gas bubble in their abdomen which keeps them too buoyant, and unable to dive.  If a turtle can’t dive, he can’t survive.  In captivity, the turtles are fitted with weights on their shells which allow them to go under.  Unfortunately, the weights don’t stay on permanently and need replacement from time to time.   There’s some trivia you couldn’t live without.                                                                                                                                                                                                      A field trip to Key West was a must.  We decided to use the Lower Keys bus (public transportation) for our adventure, and were advised that the most common phrase that we would hear on the bus might be “What were you in for?  When did you get out?”  Have to say that the 2 hour ride wasn’t just transportation, it was an adventure.  Key West is Key West-What can I say?  The Admiral and I had been there for the past 2 St. Patrick’s days, but were here a week early this year, so we settled for some tourist things, including a tour of Hemmingway’s house.  We all got our fill of shops, trinkets, and trash, and hopped the last bus before dark back home.                                                                                                                                                                                                   Some other Krogen pals, Steve and Julia (aboard Erben Renewal), and a friend of Jeff & Susie’s who captains a 70 foot Hatteras were docked at Sombrero Key Marina, so we pedaled the 5 or 6 miles there one day for a visit and to scope out the marina for an extended stay next year (maybe).  While there, we heard about a 5K to be held there on the next weekend, benefiting the local food bank.  Hey, we signed up, and came back for the event (and the free hot dogs) the next weekend.                                                                                                                                                                                                                                           The Marathon Seafood Festival provided a days’ fun with live music, seafood, and retail booths for local artists and local businesses.                                           We took a tour of Pigeon Key, which was originally the site of a camp for the workers building the 7 Mile Bridge for Henry Flagler in the late 1800’s, and is now a research facility.                                                                                                                                                                                                                                               Susie’s birthday started with a high volume rendition of the Beatles “Birthday” blasted into their boat by the Bose Dock that I place in their salon door at O’Dark-Thirty, and ended with a Lionfish dinner at Castaways restaurant.                                                                                                                                            Suzanne and Susie finally got their Manatee fix while kayaking in the Mangroves one morning, while my fellow swab, Jeff and I did boat chores.                       Since Pancho’s was mainly a commercial enterprise for a fishing fleet, it was not luxurious, but the price was right.  We were also able to snag some lobsters from Dale, the resident Jack of all Trades one day when the catch was minimal.  When the catch is good, there are no lobsters (or crabs, or fish) for local consumption, as the Chinese swoop in and pay top dollar for every last one up and down the Keys, shipping the live catch home.  Not Judgin’, just sayin’.        The Harbormistress called us one morning literally as we were walking back from the office at Pancho’s, paying for another week.  Oh well, I think the surroundings were more colorful right where we were, thank you very much.                                                                                                                                         Over the 2 weeks, we got plenty of exercise, as Home Depot and the Publix grocery store were about a 6 mile round trip, and both got a couple of visits each.  Visits to La Nina (for Cuban coffee among other goodies), The Stuffed Pig (awesome breakfast), Keys Fisheries (fish store and great lunch), Brutus’ Seafood (fantastic Conch salad to go), and Overseas Bikes were other vendors that we enjoyed.  At the end of our stay, we gave thanks to the powers that be for preserving us as we crossed US1 on our bikes several times a day.

There, caught up!

 

Sunday, the 15th, and time to depart Pancho’s Fuel Dock and Marina on lovely Marathon Key.  We topped off our tanks with 100 gallons of their (overpriced) diesel on the way out, as we wanted full tanks before departing for the Bahamas.  The 2 Girls had a sunny, calm cruise up to Lower Matecumbe Key, where we anchored in 8 feet of water in Matecumbe Bight.  I took the opportunity to get my weights set, as we had recently replaced our 30 year old SCUBA equipment with new rigs (and I’ve put a few pounds of not muscle on since my last dive in salt water).  J & S came over for Chicken curry dinner, courtesy of the Admiral.    In the morning we took “Idyll Time’s” dinghy, “Time Out” for breakfast at “Robbie’s”, an outdoor restaurant on Lower Matecumbe, where we watched touristas feed the Tarpons that were congregating under the docks.  After breakfast, we hiked around Indian Key State Park, before heading through the mangroves and back to the boats.  It was time for “Alizann” to be moving on, so we bid our good friends “adieu”, upped anchor, and headed to Rodriguez Key, where we would meet up with Julia and Steve Erben aboard their 42’ Krogen, “Erben Renewal”.  After meeting them in Solomon’s in the fall, we visited them at their dock in Marathon, where we learned of their plans to head to the Bahamas.  When they heard that we were headed out on the 17th, they arranged to buddy with us, which does make for a nicer trip.  As we neared Rodriguez Key, we recognized the familiar Krogen profile on the horizon.  Anchor down by 1700, we agreed to head out at 0700 the following morning.

 St. Patrick’s Day.  As the fiery red sun broke the horizon over our bow, we were underway to the Molasses Bank, and out of Hawk Channel.  South Bimini was about 11 hours away.  The seas were dead calm, and the wind was non-existent.  “Erben Renewal” fell in behind us.  Steve got a line in the water, and was immediately rewarded with a 10 pound Wahoo.  Throughout the rest of the day, in the 900 foot deep desert, neither of us got a nibble.  Not surprising, as the fish tend to congregate where the depths are changing rapidly.  Still, never hurts to try.  Temperatures in the high 70’s, and lots of sunshine made for a good passage, and the Gulf Stream gave us a good push on our course to the Northeast.  Nearing the sea mount that comprises the Bahamas Bank, the depths changed abruptly from 700 feet to around 40.  We were to clear customs and spend the night at Bimini Sands Marina and Resort.  As we pulled in to the man-made harbor, we were surprised that there were only 4 other boats in the 80 slip marina.  The floating docks are well-maintained, and Donny and his partner were there to catch our lines.  Electricity is billed as a flat fee, and water is metered at $.35/gal.  Not bad, as many marinas out here are charging $.50.  No worries, we make our own water, and the harbor here is very clean.  We had to take a taxi to the airport to clear customs, but they were done for the day, so we were confined to the Girl until we could go over in the morning.  Steve and Julia whipped up a nice salad with grilled Wahoo on top for dinner after sips and apps at our place.  The following morning, Steve and I grabbed a taxi to the airport.  Customs opened at 0800, so we figured 0930 would be safe.  NOT.  We waited on the bench for the agent to arrive (around 0945).  Island time-“Soon, Mon”.  She had misplaced her keys, so was unable to unlock the doors.  After a fair bit of consternation and door pounding, the Immigration officer who had been inside the whole time unlocked the doors, and we did our thing.  $300 later, we had our cruising and fishing permits in hand.  We unloaded the bikes and took the ferry (a covered pontoon boat) over to the booming metropolis of Alicetown on North Bimini.  It only took a couple of hours to ride every road on the island.  The north end of the island was dominated by new construction consisting of a Hilton, 2 marinas, single and multiple unit condos, and a casino.  As we cruised through this development, we were struck by the lack of inhabitants.  The decks around the swimming pools were basically empty, the restaurants and bars the same.  I would guess around 10-15% occupancy.  Same with the marinas.  Maybe it just wasn’t high season yet.  The rest of the island was typical of many tropical islands-lots of poverty and no place to dump the trash for the last couple hundred years.  I have to say that we were surprised, as we expected a more touristy, flashier economy, as our only experience with the Bahamas was in Nassau, and Eleuthera.  We really weren’t disappointed by the lack of tee shirt and ice cream shops, though.  We bought our Bimini Bread from Charlie, who sold out of the kitchen at his home.  After our obligatory stop at the Bimini Big Game Club (Hemmingway fished there), we threw the bikes back on the ferry(?) for a ride back to South Bimini.  Suzanne had read about the shark research center on South Bimini, so we rode our bikes over to check it out.  Staffed by volunteers and various PhD students, the research activities have been ongoing for the past 25 years, funded by grants and contributions.  One of the marine biology students, here on a 5 month stint, was kind enough to give us a guided tour of the facility, including a walk across the sand flats to the shark pens where we saw juvenile Lemon Sharks awaiting release after their being worked up and tagged.  Cool.  Back at Bimini Sands, we found that six or eight other boats had come in, including two sailing catamarans with 35 Spring breakers from Ohio State on board.  Lots of sun, hormones, music and alcohol really livened up our little neighborhood.  Too bad they weren’t having any fun.  Good neighbors, they shut things down around 2200.  Nice, as we were leaving for the Berry’s at 0700 the following morning.

Thursday, the 19th, and “Alizann” with “Erben Renewal” following are off the dock at 0730.  The forecast is for calm winds, and seas, and as the sun rises lazily over the horizon, it looks like the weatherman got it right.  Our plan is to head to the Isaacs, which are basically a couple of coral rocks sticking out of the sea, and do some snorkeling for lobster.  The trip out is uneventful, sunny skies and calm seas.  We get the hook down at Middle Isaac, and find a pretty fast current, maybe a knot or so.  Steve splashes their dinghy, and comes over to get us.  We’re not finding a whole lot in the way of lobsters, and the current makes swimming difficult so we opt to push on a little further towards the Berry’s.  Six or eight miles East, there is a spot that shows only five meters of depth.  Even though there is no shelter, the forecast looks good, so we’ll spend the night there.  We get a feel for just how accurate (or not) the charts are when we spend a half hour or so crisscrossing 30’-40’ depths looking for the shallow area to anchor on.  17’ looked pretty good, and there was enough light to see the bottom, so the Admiral maneuvered us over a patch of sand amidst the coral to drop our hook.  Bullseye!  Got a good grab, swam the anchor chain just to make sure, and then it was time for sips and dinner.  We opened a bottle of “Ecluse” Zinfandel, and marveled at the 360 degree view of nothing but horizon-no land in sight.  After the sun went down as a ball of fire, we laid on the deck, spotting orbiting satellites and a few “shooting stars”.  The hook was up by 0730 after a super peaceful night, and we fished the dropoff during the rest of the morning.  Our first hookup was a 30” Mahi, which the Admiral filleted on the spot after I dispatched it with a rubber mallet.  Our next 6 were Barracuda ranging from 2 1/2 –almost 4 feet.  After hooking the last one in a way which didn’t allow hook removal and live release, we called it a day on the fishing program.  Steve got lots of Cuda’s too, along with a 3’ King Mackerel.  On our way into Great Harbor, on Great Harbor Cay, so gotta go.

 -Later

P.S. I’ll fill in the Marathon blanks in a little bit

Hola Mi Amigos,

The trip to Little Shark River was set against some pretty bizarre meteorological conditions.  Seas were flat calm, and it was a sunny 72 degrees around our little ships, while dark gray fog banks loomed all around us.  As we monitored our VHF radios, we found that other vessels were not as fortunate.  Several sailboats were dropping anchor due to the poor visibility, while other captains were talking about the dense fog.  As we entered the river, wisps were blowing in from the Gulf.  The anchor bit on the first try, but “Idyll Time’s” kept skipping across the bottom.  Jeff moved 150 yards upriver from us, and their hook grabbed right away.  Both boats played out plenty of chain, as the current was running around 2 knots, and would be reversing when the tide ran out in 7 more hours.  As if on cue, the dense fog rolled in.  Who’da thunk that we’d be in Florida in the middle of the afternoon having to sound our fog horns?  When it cleared a few hours later, there were 6 or 8 sailboats anchored in a bunch about ¾ of a mile downstream from us, where before there were none.  During the foggy afternoon, I had a chance to search out the origin of the clacketyclackin’ generator PTO.  Nuthin’ simple, looked like it was coming from the BRAND NEW clutch.  No cell phone service, so I shot a text via satellite to the Jedi Master of all things boat, Scottie, just to give him something to think about for the next few days.  It’s still working, albeit noisily, so there’s no way I’m taking it apart as it’s really not user serviceable.  I figured that if it cacked, I would drop the clutch and pump off, and still be able to use the generator.  As our daughter, Alison, says “Dad, what do you expect?  It’s a boat”.

When Jeff, Susie, Suz and I are cruising together, we usually pool our resources and marshall our efforts for dinners.  It was Susie’s night to shine, so she whipped up a chicken, black bean, cheese, tortilla, and other Mexican goodness casserole.  Suz contributed rice, fresh fruit salad, and fresh made guacamole.  Cervesas washed it all down.  The next day, it was time for a little exploring.  The fast current made kayaking inadvisable, so we cruised up the river for a few miles in the tenders, “Time Out” and “White Star”.  Along the way, we scoped out other anchorages for potential future trips.  Suzanne’s turn- cheeseburgers, corn on the cob, and homemade strawberry shortcake, accompanied by Susie’s spinach artichoke pasta salad were on the menu.  Losing weight may be off the program for a bit.  The third day in Shark was just spent boatdinkin’, fishin’ and readin’.  Jeff, (I think of him as the McGyver of boats) had cobbled a fix for a small hydraulic leak, but came over for a look at our hydraulic spares, and found a “just right” plug in case he had to go to “Plan B”.  That evening, it was garbage can dinner (empty out all leftovers) at Jeff and Susie’s and movie night at our place.  The mosquitoes were so thick outside that there would be at least five biting you at the same time.  Unlike the B-52’s that are endemic to the upper Great Lakes, you can’t even feel these little guys land.  Actually, I don’t think that they land on their feet, they just Kamikazee in and start drilling immediately.  A welt comes up before they’re even done.  (Yes, I was impressed).  I couldn’t imagine being on a boat with no screens, having to close the hatches on a hot, humid night to keep out the bugses.

After watching 3 sets of boats come and go in our little slice of heaven, this morning it was our turn.  Anchors up by 0630, we were on our way to Marathon, in the Keys.  It was a cloudy, 63 degree morning after several squalls had come through late last night.  The sun has been trying to pop out through the thin overcast all morning, and at 1045 it’s 67 degrees.  I can’t get over the fact that we’re five miles offshore, and it’s only 9.6’ deep.  The bottoms’ pretty much featureless, and we’ve seen no fishes on the finder.  We should be in Marathon by 1230, so I’ll sign off for now.  Hopefully, we’ll have some interweb soon, and be able to shoot a few logs up into space and get caught up.

-Later

Good Morning,

OMG!  What a shock.  When we walk over to the beach, instead of miles of unspoiled sand, we’re greeted by wall to wall bodies, lots of competing music and small boats anchored just yards off the shore.  I’m thinkin’ that the scenery will be better in a few weeks when college Spring break season starts-just sayin’.  No matter, we still got three miles or so in.  Back at the Inn, we opt for an early dinner and are pleasantly surprised.  The conch chowder, ceviche, and crab stuffed grouper is excellent.  Bonus is that we ordered at 1625.  Dinner prices (around 80% more) for the same items started at 1630.  Hey-fixed income.

Monday morning, and we’re off the dock at 0750.  As we exit Estero Bay, we find that the channel marker that we noticed was off station on our way in was still not in its’ proper position, but we saw the buoy tender getting under way as we passed the station.  We had called it in to the Coast Guard the previous day.  A cloudy, cool five hours later we were entering Gordon Pass, the inlet leading to Naples.  Online reports had shoaling in the channel, but we saw deep water all the way in.  Naples Bay was lined with house after beautiful house.  Many looked like small hotels.  After we docked, we were chattin’ it up with the Harbormaster, Frank, who informed us that most of these homes were relatively new, being built on the sites of knocked down older places.  He told us of a home that was purchased a few years back for $8.5M, and was knocked down in order to build a new place for $13M-go figure.  The marina is directly below the flight path to Naples airport, and there is a constant parade of private aircraft (most of them jets) flying in and out.  While I’m referencing LOTS of people with LOTS of money, let me say a few words about the cars here.  The Audis, Landrovers, Jags, and Benzs are the Chevrolets of Naples.  Lamborghinis, Ferraris, Bentleys are evident in full force.  Restaurants are fully booked every night of the week.  Based on appearances here, you would think that the economy was booming-hope this is an omen of things to come.

We had planned on staying in Naples for a week, but for several reasons, this ballooned into two.  We visited with four different sets of friends, and did some heavy provisioning and repairs.

That was the short Naples story.  Here’s the longer one.  The day that we arrived, we rode our bikes the 4 miles to Gulf Shores Marine Supply to pick up a spare water pump for our generator that we had ordered a couple of weeks previously.  True to his word, Ken had the pump ready and waiting when the Admiral and I arrived.  The ride up and back on Tamiami Trail, a 4 lane highway, was quite exciting and fraught with danger (translation-lots of REALLY old drivers).  The week in Naples called for several more trips down this “corridor of death” with no undue results.  The following day, we met up with our dear friends Dick and Jan (see horrendous automobile accident-Captains log May 2014) who winter here.  We spent the afternoon and evening with them at their home in Bonita Springs, planning to return for a few more days.  Unfortunately, that never happened, as they were having some family issues which extended through the week.  Your kids may grow up, but they’re always your kids.  We did get to see them towards the end of the week, when they came in to eat with us.  During the week, we had a chance to catch up with 3 other couples, friends that live in Naples, catch up, and have some pretty good meals. Bleau Provence is an elegant spot for an evening of French cuisine.  The Dock provided a waterside venue with a funky atmosphere and pretty good bar food.  Avenue 5 featured nouveau cuisine in a modern setting in the heart of town.  Yabba, although downtown, had an airy porch and a nice, semi elegant lunch menu.  Campiello, also in town, had both indoor and outdoor tables, and featured a more traditional menu with an emphasis on red meats.  The bar there is also a great place to sit and people watch in the afternoon.  The only eatery that I would have to give a mediocre endorsement to was LaMoorege, a Peruvian-themed restaurant in the “suburbs”.   We took care of our provisioning by renting a car for a day (no good Samaritans on the dock here) and running to Publix, ABC Liquor, West Marine, Lowe’s, Staples, Bed, Bath and Beyond, and Sears following an early morning stop at Skillet’s (one of my favorite breakfast joints).  The repair of the week was the air conditioning unit in our stateroom.  After taking apart the closet where the air handler is located, and multiple calls for tech support, the diagnosis fell to a faulty circuit board.  Cruise Cool, a local repair company, had one in stock-bonus.  Fred, the owner, brought one out first thing in the morning, and offered to install it.  Even though I had replaced one in another unit a few months earlier without any difficulty, we figured that boosting the local economy couldn’t hurt.  Voila!  Cool air.

February 21st, Saturday morning.  Farmer’s market day.  This time, we grabbed our bikes AND backpacks to hit the farmers’ market.  It was departure day, so our provisioning list was pretty flush with fresh fruits and veggies.  Our mission  a success, the packs were brimming within the hour.  The Admiral has been freshening up her herb garden, so I had a parsley plant sticking out of the top of my pack, drawing some interesting looks.  Jeff and Susie aboard “Idle Time” had left Cape Coral earlier in the morning, and were passing Naples around noon, at which time we would join them for a short cruise to Marco Island where we would spend the night on the hook.  We have been looking for some small rugs for the Galley, and earlier in the week, I had spotted a nice Oriental in town, so we decided to grab it on consignment and try it on for size.  The color and design were right, the 8’ length was perfect, but the 23” width was a smidge large.  Oh well, half the fun is in the hunt.  By 1242, the tide was up, and we were no longer sitting on the bottom-time to go.  Once out in the Gulf, and clear of the weekend boat follies, we found “I. T.” to be 3.8 miles astern.  Cruising over a 1 foot chop, the 2 ½ hour run to Marco was a joy.  Our anchorage, Smokehouse Bay”, was anything but wilderness, but the beautiful homes on the way in and around the bay made for some nice sightseeing.  After the hooks were down, plans were made for sundowners at our place.  Soon after, a Krogen Manatee rolled in, and dropped their anchor right behind us.  After we introduced ourselves, Wally and Darcy joined us for conversation and sips after Jeff & Susie picked them up on their way over.  W & D had purchased their previously enjoyed boat in 2014, and had cruised a thousand miles or so on the Intracoastal Waterway, but their day on the Gulf travelling to Marco was their first time on “big water”.  They were pretty geeked.  Always fun to make new friends.

Since there were some pretty skinny spots on the way in, an 0705 departure played the tide to give us a comfortable margin between the bottom and our keels during our departure.  Cloudy, 65 degree temperature and minimal seas made for an enjoyable 35 mile trip to the Thousand Islands in Everglades National Park.  Boy, it was just like old times to be buddy boating with J & S again.  Old pals are a lot like cousins that you seldom see-a few minutes, and it’s like you were never away from each other.  By 1252, we had shot down the hooks in Russell Pass, the kayaks were in the water, and we were exploring the labarynthine Mangrove swamps, just as the sun made its’ appearance.  After sips, Suzanne and Susie fattened Jeff and I up with a gourmet meal of crabcakes, stuffed Portobello mushrooms, Asian slaw, and a citrus salad.  Peanut M&M’s for desert?-died and gone to heaven.  The next morning, we took the tenders on a 5 mile expedition up the river to Everglades City, home of the “historical Rod and Gun Club”.  This little piece of an era gone by sits on the river, with a screened porch overlooking the waterway.  Built in the 1800, the Club is now public, but boasts guests including past presidents, movie stars, and Earnest Hemmingway (where didn’t he hunt or fish?).  The dark, mahogany walls are adorned with trophies from past hunts and fishing trips, as well as antique guns and fishing paraphernalia.  Lunch is at Triad seafood, which has a porch overlooking some pretty rough commercial fishing boats, and trash-strewn docks-sounds good, huh?  The 4 Collier County Sheriff’s cruisers parked out front gave us a clue that this might be the place for chow, and we didn’t go wrong.  Seafood, fresh, fresh, fresh and tasty.  On our way back to the Girls, our decision to take the dinghies up was validated by a cruiser running aground in the middle of the channel.  We had seen him go on while we were at the ranger’s station, and fortunately he was off by the time that we passed him 20 minutes later after plowing through a hundred feet of mud, exhaust smoking to beat the band.  Even though Suz and I had seen Manatees up at the Rod and Gun Club on previous trips, we were still “no joy” on them this voyage.  (Them’s that know say that the water’s just too cold yet).  We’ll keep hoping and looking.

Today, the 24th, is a foggy 65 degrees when we up anchors at 0654 to take advantage of the tide.  During our 36 mile trek to Little Shark River, our last stop before Marathon Key, we see little wild life on the surface, or our fish finder.  We traversed sandy flats that were pretty much devoid of anything but crab pots.  I’m wondering what in the heck they do for food.  The fog lifted and the sun came out, allowing Suz and I to sit on the bow with the autopilot remote in hand, while catching some rays.  The fog was all around us, as evidenced by other boats’ conversations on the VHF, but we stayed in a little hole of sunshine all the way to Little Shark.  20 minutes later, the fog rolled in, and here we sit (fog in Florida-Really?)  Even with the fog, it’s quite bright, ‘cause the clouds are probably only a hundred feet or so thick, but there is a 10 knot breeze, so it’s cool.  Good time to hunker down and get some chores done.  The infamous clutch on the generator started making some clickety clack yesterday, so I’ll need to take a lookee before we run it again.  It’s a boat, right?  The Admiral’s doing her Betsy Ross thing, hand sewing some Textilene with a sail needle and some whipping twine to make a bag for our dinghy “White Star’s” anchor.    It still tickles us when dirt dwellers ask us “What do you do all day”?

-Later

Bon Jour,

February 5th at Pelican Bay, Costa Cayo State Park.  We had a comfortable evening, although there was a pretty stiff breeze and lots of thunderstorms rolling through.  The anchor held well, and we made some electricity with the pair of wind generators.  Even though it was windy with showers blowing through in the morning, the radar looked like we were done with the worst of it, so we dropped the dink and headed to shore.  Most of Cayo Costa (LaCosta Island) is State Park, and we looked forward to some hiking there.  When we got to shore there were about 20 campers huddled under the shelter waiting for the ferry to bring them back to the mainland and dry clothes. I like boat camping.  As we started across the island, several mini squalls blew through on a 20 knot breeze.  The beach on the Gulf side of the island was deserted, and the wind was blowing the mist sideways.  We took the trail paralleling the beach and walked North past 8 or 10 little one room shacks with screened porches that could be rented by the day or week.  Raised off the ground, they looked preferable to spending a rainy night in a tent.  By the end of the day, we had pretty much hiked every trail that the park had to offer, the sun had come out and the wind died down.  We explored our bay in the tender while having a few sips, looking for manatees in a small cove that was supposedly infested with them-no joy.

The following day, we took the tender over to Cabbage Key, 2 miles distant, to have lunch at the bar.  It was purportedly the inspiration for Jimmy Buffett’s tune, “Cheeseburger in Paradise”.  The cheeseburgers weren’t that great, but it was a colorful joint, being wallpapered with dollar bills-thousands of them.  The story goes that when fishermen headed out in the morning, they would tape a dollar bill to the wall to guarantee a cold beer waiting upon their return.  Don’t know if it’s true, but over the years, everyone and their brother have contributed to the décor (estimates are in the tens of thousands of $$).  This place has the “Soggy Dollar” on Jost Van Dyke in the British Virgin Islands beat, hands down.  Sunny and 65 degrees, we took a short walk on the trails there, and a slow boat ride back to the Girl.  The past few days of exploration of our bay in the tender begged the question, “How did we get in here without bumping the bottom?”  We resolved to leave at high tide when departing the following day. 

Saturday morning, and the sun was out in full force, although it was still pretty windy.  High tide wasn’t until around 1500, so we took the tender, “White Star” across the Boca Grande pass the 4 or 5 miles north to Boca on Gasparilla Island to see how the other half lived.  We had a fun time eating lunch at “The Pink Elephant” restaurant, cruising the shops and walking the beach doing the tourist thing.  Back to the boat by 1430, we were anchor up and tippy-toeing out of the anchorage by 1451.  No bumps, plenty of water going out.  Heading through the channel, you literally have “one foot on the beach”-hundreds of yards of SHALLOW water on one side, ten yards away from the beach on the other.  We didn’t have far to go, as our plan had us anchoring just off the Intracoastal in the lee of Useppa Island, a scant 2 miles away, putting us in position for our run to Fort Myer’s Beach the following day.  We dropped the hook a hundred yards or so from an anchored sailboat, and were joined by 2 others before sundown.

By 0715 on Sunday, we were anchor up and on our way to Fort Myer’s Beach.  Wow, what a difference the day of the week makes.  As we neared F.M.B., the boat traffic increased exponentially, and the lack of boating etiquette with it.  The Admiral called ahead to the Matanzas Inn folks who run the mooring balls, and found that we were right on the edge as far the capacity of the balls regarding size went.  They were also quite far from town so we opted to stay at their dock.  Luckily, they had one space that could accommodate the Girl.  Communicating with the young lady (sounded Eastern European) was difficult, but with the help of Google Earth, we were able to spot the wall “Right next to the orange umbrellas”.  She assured us that it was 8’ deep next to the wall, but motoring in with a 2 knot current, and the fathometer heading south of 6’, we had our doubts.  Just as we started to block out the sun for all the folks eating their lunch under the aforementioned orange umbrellas, a guy runs out and yells to us (he could have spoken in a normal voice-we were that close) that he’s pretty sure that we’re supposed to be at the end of the face dock next to the channel.  We back out, sending whorls of mud up from the bottom, and head to the face, where Myriam is standing between 2 blue boats in her blue jeans and blue polo shirt, ready to catch our lines.  On our way up to her office at the Matanzas Inn, where she doubles as the receptionist, we discuss the finer points of giving directions to the dock.  Anyway, no harm no foul.  The rent’s paid by noon, so we have the rest of the day to explore.

-A plus tard

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Captain's Log

Hola Muchachos,

So here we are at the Marina at Palmas del Mar.  Palmas is a planned community that was started around 1975.  Currently, there are 3,500 housing units here, ranging from single family, detached homes to multi-unit condos, spread over 2,700 acres.  Approximately half are occupied year-round, half are second homes.  This gated community has 25 smaller gated enclaves within its’ boundaries.  There are 20 tennis courts (clay, grass, and composition), an equestrian center, a Catholic church, grocery store, (two) eighteen-hole golf courses, a spa facility, some 16 restaurants, a K-12 elementary school, a Wyndham Hotel, casino and on and on.  The marina will accommodate yachts up to 175’, although the largest here at present is merely 115’.  We’re here because we thought that it’d be a safe place to leave The Girl when we flew home for Christmas.

Our first afternoon was spent cleaning the salt off “Alizann”, picking up our mail, and meeting the neighbors.  Over the next few days, we spent a lot of time walking and exploring a small part of the grounds.  Saturday night, the week before Christmas, featured a (Christmas) lighted golf cart parade, which culminated in the central plaza where the party was just beginning.  A live band kicked ‘em out until the small hours, interrupted occasionally by a few torrential rain showers that blew through.  Although the language presented a bit of a barrier, Suz and I understood the smiling and dancing without any problem.  The girls were loving the line dancing, doing the “electric slide” to the Puerto Rican beat.  At one point, I looked around, and to my surprise, noticed that all of the guys were on the sidelines with just the ladies (and I) dancing-oops.  Next song was a slow one, so the disturbance in the Force was quelled as the men returned to the floor.

There are only 5 of us out on the end of “B dock”, and 2 of the boats are unoccupied.  That leaves Dave, a guy from the U.S. mainland who spends his winters here on his boat, Susan & Peter, Canadian sail boaters who have wintered here in the Caribbean for the past few years, and us.  Of course, we share some sips and stories.  Suzanne enlisted Dave to take care of her garden (Basil, tomatoes, and various herbs) while we are gone over Christmas.  He was looking forward to having his daughter from the West Coast come for a visit over the Holiday.  Peter and Susan were also expecting company, as their daughter was flying in from Toronto, expecting a two-week sail to the Spanish Virgins.  Getting the Girl ready for our absence required doubling all lines and placing chafe protection all around, while leaving extra lines in the cockpit just in case they were needed.  Our spot on “B Dock” was right on the traffic pattern to the fuel dock for the marina staff (not a coincidence), so we figured that if there were any issues, the guys would notice.  Finally, we left Roberto his Christmas gift of a couple pounds of Mahi filets, and after digging out our cold-weather clothes, we’re ready to roll.

That pretty much brings up to the 20th of December.  Luigi picked us up promptly at 06h00, and we were off on our adventure to the San Juan airport.  The traffic thickened as we neared San Juan, and the rain and poor road surface didn’t help matters, but we arrived at the airport 2 hours ahead of our flight.  It was a good thing, too.  By the time we got through the lines at agriculture inspection and baggage check, we really appreciated our “Global Traveler” status at TSA.   

Ha sido un tiempo……

Sooo…. It was brought to my attention that I didn’t close the chapter on the stuck transmission lever.  One of the hazards of A.D.D., I guess-“oughta sight, oughta mind”.  After bleeding the lines, we’ve had no more trouble, but you can bet that we test it before coming into any tight spots now.  I guess that goof-ups are how you add to your list of “Standard Operating Procedures”.  Our list is getting pretty long by now.

On the subject of A.D.D., every time that I sit down to write, I come up with another little project to do instead.  Pretty soon a day becomes a week, a week a fortnight, and before long, a month has gone by.  Let’s catch up:

The 15th of December dawned warm and sunny-81 degrees with a 10kn breeze.  Off the dock at 08h00, we were anchored in the bight at Isla Caja de Muertos by 09h45, in the company of 2 sailboats.  There are several versions as to how “Coffin Island” got its’ name.  My favorite is the story of a Portuguese pirate, Jose Almeida, who fell in love with, and married a Puerto Rican woman, taking her pirating with him.  The story goes that after she was killed by a stray bullet, he had her embalmed and entombed in a glass coffin, which he then proceeded to hide in a cave on the aforementioned island.  In the ensuing years, until he was captured and executed at El Morro fort in San Juan in 1832, he visited her tomb often, leaving half of his treasure there.  Many years later, a Spanish engineer located the coffin and gave the island its’ name.  No mention was made of the treasure.  The official story is that the island got its name, because the outline on the horizon looks like a human figure in repose-BORING!  The island is uninhabited now, save for a few Ponce Park rangers who maintain a small museum, picnic/swimming area, and automated weather station on the west end of the island.  Apparently, a ferry boat from Ponce lands at the decrepit dock near the anchorage on weekends, bringing daytrippers from the “mainland”.

We dropped “White Star” and headed north along the coast, looking for a sandy beach on the sharp limestone shore ringing the island.  There was a small patch of sand at the foot of a trail that we presumed led up to the lighthouse perched some 500 feet above the water, but the waves rolling in, and the rocky bottom precluded leaving the dinghy there.  Plan B.  We dropped Suz, the backpack and my clothes on the sand when the waves subsided for a minute or so, then moored the dinghy in deeper water.  It was a refreshing swim to shore.  The hike up to the lighthouse started in dense, scrubby vegetation, giving way to a cactus forest, finally ending in an arid zone at the top of the ridge where the lighthouse stood.  Built a couple of decades before the Americans received Puerto Rico in the Treaty of Paris after the Spanish-American War, its’ architecture is typical of the colonial style that is found around PR.  The lighthouse is totally abandoned, save for the automated light atop the tower there.  The view was nothing short of spectacular.After our morning hike, we went ashore at the other end of the island where the ranger station is located, and checked out the “museum”, which was actually an exhibit of posters describing the flora and fauna of the island and surrounding sea.  Besides the rangers and a couple of kids off of one of the anchored sailboats, we had the island to ourselves.

The anchor was up, and we were underway by 06h25 the next morning, with winds around 10kn.  When we reached the southeast corner of Puerto Rico, the night lee had dissipated, and we experienced a little bit of a rocky ride, with 20+kn winds blowing the tops off 2’-4’ seas on our nose.  After surfing the rock-lined channel into the marina at Palmas del Mar, we contacted Roberto, the dockmaster, who asked us to tie up at the fuel dock.  “Don’t need fuel, just direct us to our slip”.  Well…..we pulled in to the fuel dock, where Roberto and one of his guys got us secured.  When he asked us to get off the boat, I have to admit that I was a bit confused.  Turns out that he put us in his golf cart and drove us around the nearly-empty marina so that we could pick our slip.  Unheard of!  After he explained the pros and cons of the different docks (close to the office, a little more surge, a little less wind, and etc.), we settled on one far from the office/main gate, but with less surge.  The guys got us properly secured, and gave us some tips on line placement, delivered in a very nice tone, then drove us to the office, where we met Juanjo, the Marina’s general manager.  By the time that he finished his welcome orientation, we felt like we were checking into the Ritz, not a marina.  After he had arranged for a driver to take us to San Juan airport four days hence, and sensing some unease, he gave us his cell number, telling us that if there was any problem, that he’d take us himself.  More on Palmas

-Later

Buenos tardes,

So, Enterprise picked us up yesterday morning, and we were off on our adventure to the coffee plantation in the mountains.  The highway headed north out of town was four lanes, but full of potholes and patches, making speeds over 50mph feel too fast.  As we headed up the mountain, the small stream of cars thinned to nothing.  Google announced our turn, and it was a good thing, as there were NO street signs.  Kurt, the owner of Hacienda Pomarossa, told Suzanne that his farm would be found at kilometer 12.8 of this road.  I use the term “road” loosely.  Yes, it was paved, but barely wide enough for two vehicles to pass.  The edge of the pavement dropped off 8” to the (not) shoulder, and in many places, was fractured off completely, a foot or so into the lane.  In a few spots, the downhill lane was gone altogether, having washed downhill in some previous mudslide.  That didn’t keep the oncoming drivers from racing down like maniacs, often coming around blind corners in the middle of the road, only to slam on the brakes and swerve over to their own side before they hit us.  We mighta’ bought the farm, had the semi truck coming the other way around a blind switchback not had a very loud horn.  We heard him coming before entering the turn, and it’s a good thing, too.  He took up the whole road, the tractor and end of the trailer on the right edge, with the middle of the trailer extending over the inside of the curve on the left edge.  I think that a very short, but explicit descriptive may have slipped from my lips, because Suzanne was laughing hysterically as we sat stopped on the road, the semi’s tires inches from my head.

We made it.  Hacienda Pomarossa was perched on the side of the mountain, amidst a rain forest of vegetation.  Kurt and his wife, Eva had an idyllic property-eight acres of coffee trees sprinkled among banana, mango, plantain, mandarin, orange and grapefruit trees.  Kurt is German, but has lived in PR for 41 years, and has been married to Eva, a Puerto Rican, for 40.  She is a self-professed city girl, and lives in Old San Juan, at their home there most of the time.  Kurt loves the farm, but visits the city now and then.  Works for them.  Kurt toured us around the farm, and demonstrated his processing equipment.  Unlike many small farms, Kurt does all of his own processing, from picking to destemming, peeling, drying, roasting, and packaging the beans.  Definitely a labor of love, the end result being around approximately 6,000 pounds of gourmet coffee per year.  After our tour and a talk about the history of coffee, we discussed our respective reading lists over a couple of cups.  He is obviously well-read, and I got a couple of suggestions for future reads, as well as giving a few titles to him.  We sat and talked about a mutual favorite, “1421, The Year that China Discovered America”, as well as a couple of others.  After 4 hours at the farm, it was time to head out, as we wanted to drive over to Salinas and check out the harbor there.  Google Maps showed us the route, and we were off.  If the road in was small, this one was miniscule.  No wider than a typical driveway, I couldn’t help but wonder what we’d do if we encountered a car coming the other way.  We twisted, turned, and wound our way down the mountain, several times finding that we were on a drive heading up to someone’s shack, having gone straight when the road took a sharp turn.  Finally, the “road” ENDED.  Google showed a road ahead. But the trees and bushes belied this fact.  Whatthe?  By now, after 45 minutes of twisting and turning, we tried to backtrack after making an 18-point turn to reverse direction.  “Do you remember seeing that shack?”  “Did we see that rusted out truck before?”  “I don’t remember this intersection, do you?”  Google had completely redrawn itself, but by now, we didn’t trust her anyway.  It’s pouring rain now, and getting darker.  We came over a rise, and entered a section of road which was totally unfamiliar, running along the edge of a dropoff.  There was a young man on a backhoe fixing the side of the road, talking to a kid on a bike.  No habla Ingles.  We managed to get through the language barrier, he barked some orders to the kid, who tore off on his bike into the pouring rain.  Motioning for us to follow, we wondered where he was taking us.  Ten minutes later, there we were, at the driveway to Hacienda Pomarossa.  We took the original road home.  It now looked like a turnpike.  Kinda outta time, we stopped to eat at “Casa del Chef,” a restaurant that Jose had recommended.  There, we both availed ourselves to the ubiquitous Puerto Rican delight, Mofongo.  We’re talking mashed, then fried plantain formed into a ball, surrounding (fill in the blank) Camarones (shrimp), Pescado (fish), Carne (meat), Pulpo (octopus), Concha (conch), Pollo (chicken), or whatever.  The whole deal is then drenched in an intense Ajo (garlic) salsa.  Whew!  After we waddled back to the car, we headed to the supermercado for fresh fruta y vegetales.  We got back to the Girl just before nightfall.

Weather should be moderating tomorrow, so we’ll get off the dock and head out to Caja de Muertos.  Our plan is to anchor there, and climb to the top of the island, then spend the night on the hook.  There’s really no harbor there, just a little Bight on the southwest side.  If the anchorage is too rolly, we’ll head 15 miles east to the bay in Salinas.  Until then,

-Later

Buenos tardes,

Well, didn’t get a whole of sleep on Saturday, the night of our arrival.  Between the surge, causing us to saw back and forth, the creaking (not a strong enough word-maybe shrieking) of the lines as they alternately tightened around the PVC-sheathed steel pilings, and the at least 80 decibel music emanating from the numerous kiosks across the harbor until 02h00, sleep was an unrealized luxury.  We took a walk around the property, and met a couple standing by a pile of luggage in the parking lot.  They had come in the afternoon before, and were waiting for a cab to take them to the airport so that they could fly home.  Their Captain had just landed, and would take their boat to St. Croix, their home port, when the weather cooperated.  Perfecto!  We talked to the cab driver, Wilson, who agreed in much-less-than-perfect English, to take us in to Ponce when he returned with the Captain.  Well…..we weren’t too sure about the communication thing, but since he left an upright fan which he had taken out of the trunk with us as a hostage, and he had to bring the Captain back, we figured the odds of us getting to town were about 80-20, with the odds of us getting to Mass on time were around 40-60.  Thirty minutes later, with our pack loaded, and the Girl retied, we were starting to get a little worried.  That was just the start.  The cab rolled up.  The lady driving hopped out, and headed for the restroom.  Out popped Chris, the Captain, who couldn’t get away quick enough.  While Wilson bent his ear, he kept backing up.  Finally, he said “I gotta go”.  We asked him to keep an eye on our boat, the lady driver returned, and we were off.  Turns out that Wilson was drunk as a skunk.  As we roared down the highway, he regaled us with stories.  First, about how he knew everybody around here, his other car, a Cadillac SUV, then about how he was going to take us on a tour, give us a free gift and onandon.  All of this in sortaEnglish that we could barely piece together.  Interspersed, were asides to the driver in Spanish, spiced liberally with “F bombs”.  Finally, he got the point that we didn’t want a tour, we were just going to church (a concept that seemed very foreign to him).  Winding through the backstreets now, he turns around and says to us “Nothing is going to happen to you, I take care of you”.  We pop out of the barrio into the daylight, only to find that the street is barricaded.  Fortunately, there are 3 cops at the roadblock, and beyond, there is some kind of festival going on (sigh of relief).  Wilson gets out and tries to talk the cops into letting us through.  Nope, not happenin’.  Back up, turn down another sidestreet, wrong way on a one-way street, and we’re in front of the Catedral de Nuestra Senora de Guadalupe.  Ten bucks, “See ya, Wilson”, twenty steps and we’re in the safety of the Iglesia.  I had already done plenty of praying, but figured a little more couldn’t hurt.

Afterwards, we spent a couple of hours wandering around the city square, where the Christmas festival was winding down after a weeks’ run.  The downtown area in this, Puerto Rico’s second largest city, was evidently in a state of decline.  There were many empty storefronts, and it was very apparent that the infrastructure was crumbling through lack of maintenance.  Having had enough, we hailed a (different) cab and headed back to the Girl.  As we walked down the dock, we saw Chris working frantically with the lines on our boat.  Several had loosened, and in spite of the many fenders that we had hung, our Girl was slamming the concrete dock.  It was all he could do to hold the boat off in the 20+ kn wind and vicious surge.  Man, we arrived just in time.  There was no one else around to help him, and I dunno how long he could have held out.  We all got “Alizann” retied, but for the rest of the day, and the next, Suz and I were afraid to leave her.  Plus, the extra day gave me time to do some fiberglass repairs-all pretty minor, considering.  (Thank you, Chris).  Lines stretched, loosened, and had to be redone often.  All the while, the boat lurched forward, sprang back, and rotated, causing her to bounce between pilings.  No proper bow lines could be tied, as the slip was too short.  In a word, Miserable!  On the third day, a boat moved off a face dock.  After a half hour (or so) of conversation, the lady at the office consented to us moving to the face, where we could get some proper lines tied.  But…….we could only stay there 2 days, as another boat was coming in.  Sold!  We moved 15 minutes later.  Getting out of the slip was a challenge, but that’s another story.  We resurrected our cancelled rent-a-car reservation, and got a good nights’ sleep in readiness for our road trip to the coffee plantation.

So, let’s back up just a tad.  The night of the dock incident, we had Chris over for some enchiladas.  Nothing like an Irish gal cooking Mexican food in Puerto Rico.  His story goes like this:  Born in the States, his folks moved to St. Croix when he was eight.  He grew up there, and has worked on boats his whole life.  He is currently a harbor pilot in St. Croix, and moonlights as the Captain of the 62’ Ocean Alexander that his bosses left at the dock here in Ponce.  He’s worked for these folks for the past several years, and will be the Captain of their new 78’ Fleming that is nearing completion, and will be delivered soon.  It seems that the owners came in to PR from Dominican Republic without clearing Customs (it was the weekend).  They then left the boat and flew out, leaving Chris to deal with the paperwork on Monday.  Fortunately, the Customs folks saw things for what they were, knowing that Chris had nothing to do with this mess.  They didn’t confiscate the boat, and let the owners off with an $8,600 dollar fine.  (probably not even a hiccup for folks that own a Cessna Citation, and have a $7M boat coming soon).  Names have been omitted to protect the (not so) innocent.  Just another story from the backwaters of the Caribbean.

Well, there was a whole lot more to these stories, but as usual, this is getting waaaayyyy too long-winded, so…….

-Later

Buenos Dias,

Up at 06h30, off the hook by 07h00.  We threaded our way back out through the reef, using our previous days’ track on the chartplotter, as the angle of the sun at this time of day didn’t lend itself to reading water depths.  Cayos de Cana Gorda, or Guilligan’s Island, was only two hours away, but with the wind, seas, and small craft warnings, we wanted to take advantage of the light early morning winds for a pleasant ride.

Okay, so what’s with this “Night Lee” that I’ve been talking about?  Land masses take on, and conversely release heat more quickly than water.  During the day, the land heats up quickly.  The hot air over the land rises, causing the wind to be deflected from sea to land (an onshore breeze).  At night, as the air over land cools, it becomes heavier and falls to earth and flows out to sea (an offshore breeze).  This effect affects the gradient wind (prevailing wind), deflecting it.  In effect, the nighttime offshore breeze created by this effect creates sort of a “bubble” around an island, raising (in altitude), or deflecting the prevailing winds.  In our case, the easterly Tradewinds.  This bubble, or Night Lee, can extend tens of miles out from an island, and last from around midnight until 9 or 10 in the morning.  The distance from land and the duration of Night Lees are affected by the strength of the gradient winds, the elevation of the land mass, and daytime temperatures.  Bottom line-generally cruising in the lee afforded by a land mass at night provides a more pleasurable experience.  Okay, I probably really muddied things up.  Google it.

Well, it was still kinda bumpy, but I was able to rustle up some scrambled eggs, served over red beans and rice, topped with Mexican cheese.  A bit of “Scotty O’Hotty” habanero salsa provided a little kick.  Arriving at our destination, we worked our way through the reef, and the seas quickly died.  Suz tucked us in behind a little Cayo, and the hook was down by 09h30.

What a pretty spot.  The little Cays next to us were in a Puerto Rican park, so were uninhabited, and had roped off swimming areas and picnic tables ashore.  During the day, the little ferry boat from the Jacinto restaurant on the mainland brought visitors out to the park, but in the morning and early evening, we had the place to ourselves.  There were no other cruisers in the anchorage, either.  We spent two days there, just soaking up the ambiance.  Had lunch at Jacinto, food was nothing to write home about but got a little taste of the local color.

This morning, we were up and out by 06h30, headed to an anchorage at Caja de Muertos Island.  The Night lee dissipated 2 hours into the 3-hour trip, and the seas were predicted to be running 5’-7’, then 7’-9’ over the next few days, so we reevaluated our plan to anchor in the open anchorage there, figuring that we’d rather be stuck someplace with more to do.  Ponce, the second largest city in P.R. was on the schedule for a road trip later in the month, so we decided to call the Ponce Yacht and Fishing Club to see if they could get us in.  No problem.  We were tucked in to a 19’ wide slip with plenty of surge and wind (in our 17.5’ wide boat) by 10h00.  By 11h00, we had a car rented for Monday, had the Mass schedule for the Cathedral, coffee plantation tour reserved and were registered for the week.  This afternoon, we strolled the malecon(La Guancha) and had lunch and a few cervezas at one of the kiosks there.  Looking forward to touring this historic city and its environs in the early part of this week.  We’ll report in……..

-Later

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