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The narrow entrance channel with surf breaking over reefs to starboard,
and a nearly invisible, short breakwater extension. The green day buoy
was reflective, but not lit and flashing. You know what they say about
never entering an unknown harbour at night! To top it off, there is a
pile of rocks at the end of the fuel dock. Volver is lucky her keel is intact.
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The first mate was up on the bow with a giant spotlight yelling, "turn around, there are no boats here, you are driving into a hotel!" when we saw the Fuel Dock. Happy Chaos was there and they had told us they would leave their radio on, and a good thing, too, for we swung in behind them onto a concrete dock that was about 4 foot higher than Volver's deck, so there was no chance of being able to swing ourselves up that high to tie off a dock line. Saved by the Happy people, again! They came in, many hours ahead of us but also in the dark, with howling 28 knot winds blowing them onto the fuel dock and were also quite disenchanted with the harbour entrance, but had help from some fisherman on the fuel dock to get them tied off.
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| The surf was breaking over this breakwater! |
Dominican Republic was a whirlwind. We stayed 2 nights and three days and did a final provision for the Bahamas, where some of the 1000s of islands are visited only twice a month by the mailboat. The mailboat also brings supplies, which are rumoured to be few in number and expensive. Our boat has never been so full of canned foods!
If you are thinking of staying at the Ocean World Marina, there are a few things to know. Firstly, it is true that the marina staff are very helpful when it comes to helping you navigate Customs, Immigration, Drug enforcement, and Navy officials, all of whom are very interested in your visit, to every port in the DR. You are only officially able to depart between 0800 and 1700, but you can sometimes (randomly?) get permission to leave outside of these hours: you must pay overtime to the many officials for this privilege, and marina staff can not tell you how much this will cost. Some people had difficulty being granted permission and others less so. Given that many boaters are simply stopping here in transit while passaging to friendlier countries, it is important to them to have the flexibility to leave at will, to at least try to stage their arrival time in the unknown harbour for the daylight hours. The navy is on site 24 hours. After they give your dispatch papers, they stay and watch that you leave immediately, even though their paperwork is good for 24 hours.
Secondly, the marina water is not safe for drinking despite the advertising "certified municipal water." We found this out by accident minutes before filling up our tanks. The Dominican people do not drink their city water. Thirdly, although it is billed as free for marina guests, the marine adventure park is merely discounted and is still fairly pricey. Fourthly, the free shuttle to the Tropical Supermercado takes you to a store where the shelves are half empty (for example, the sole cheese offerings were kraft singles and one french cheese tray) and the meat is scary looking. It is unfortunate that the marina staff do not share the information one needs to make decisions. There is a full service supermarket/department store, "the Sirenas" a short taxi ride away where you can buy the world (even burata cheese!) for a low price. We have been searching since Martinique for a rubber sealant ring for our expresso pot and surprisingly had success there! Finally, the docks are not 1.5 feet high as the guidebook says, so tie your fenders up high.
We did the usual marina activities: boat washing, laundry, pool lounging (though not enough/ much of this), and the first mate found someone to don scuba gear and scrape the barnacles off the boat bottom, sail drive, and prop. We note the boat is now clearly faster under power, and our wind instrument shows both true and apparent wind speeds, which it has not done for months. Must have been some algae or barnacle growth impeding its' functioning.
Heading off on the 200 nm passage to Mayaguana island, we left at 6 pm, not wanting to hassle with the DR port authorities. We experienced the forecasted brisk breezes of 25 knots, direction of 120 degrees, until 4 am. The swell was generous, probably the 6-8 feet forecast, and at the beam, so the boat was rolly enough that sleep was not so good that first night. Volver handled well with double reefed mainsail alone, comfortably making 7 knots of boat speed. The daytime was pleasant, with lighter air of 15 knots and slower boat speed. There was fishing. We won't talk about the wahoo, whose teeth we could see, and whose flesh we could almost smell simmering in butter and garlic, that got away. We hope to improve the landing on the boat part of this activity.
During the second night of our passage, just as soon as the first mate sent the captain off for his nap, the wind picked up to 20 plus knots while we had full sails up. It was thrilling, the boat was moving along at 8.4 knots, but we had a preventer to keep the boom from gybing on the aft winch, so the first mate was running up to the foreward winch to trim the mainsail sheet, then back aft to the jib sheet and the helm, and this is not a sustainable night time manoever! So the captain kindly came up and we reefed for the night. We usually do this prophylactically for the solo night watches, but since it was such a calm, light air day, we had not done so.
Another noctunal arrival saw us with the hook down by 0330. We stopped at Start point, a roadstead anchorage, which is basically an exposed stop outside an island in the ocean. At this anchorage, the depth goes from 2000 feet to 20 feet in a distance of about 1/4 n.m. Stop quickly before you hit the beach! It was rolly, but safe for 4 hours of sleep until the sun was up high enough for us to enter the unmarked anchorage of Abraham's Bay, which is a reef protected anchorage, completely exposed to the ocean winds. The Bahamas islands are giant sandbars, and the anchorages are studded with reefs and coral heads. Navigation is tricky, and requires someone to be standing watch on the bow at all times. They are also much more affected by storms that affect the eastern seaboard than the more southern Caribbean islands. The storms are supposed to abate by mid-April, but this winter has been exceptional, so there is still a need to keep a very close eye on the weather.
Mayaguana island is the eastern most point of the Bahamas, population 400. The 9 foot deep anchorage is a very long dinghy ride from town. We made the trip, did customs, and found the Bahamas Telephone Co. immediately beside the immigration building. An out of date internet source had advised that one can only purchase a Batelco SIM card on one of three large Bahamian islands, and the first mate and capt'n spent our last several hours in the DR panicking, as we were trying to figure out a communication strategy. Owning 7 other SIM cards, we were trying to figure out how to activate just one of them to use for roaming, b/c the US SIM card we bought does not roam in the Bahamas. This panic and frustration was for naught (most is, yes?): the nice lady in Batelco sold us two months of data (it was on sale!), and a pay as you go phone option. Joy: we have access to the weather forecast! Communication has definitely been one of the biggest complications of our trip thus far. We are still tied to the Happy Hour bar/resto for WiFi for the blog, as neither computer has functioning bluetooth; hence, we can not tether the phone data and use it. Happily, the Happy Hour gets you out meeting people.
April 24 Update: Volver waited patiently for 5 days for a front to pass. We could have travelled a short distance the day after arrival, but our next anchorage would have been very exposed to the high wind and waves that were predicted. Despite Volver and crew having been on the move and very busy for weeks, we easily tired of this amount of resting. Sean, Evan, and the captain took the dinghy over to fish the reef but found it was so choppy they were getting swamped and gave up on bringing grouper home for dinner. Lobster is unfortunately out of season. We are still hoping to hone our fishing skills!
The weather acted as we had read about, but never experienced, in our travels through the Virgin Islands, windwards/leewards. After a front passes, the winds typically drop and change direction from east/southeast to north/northwest. Bruce Van Sant, author of the "Gentleman's Guide to the Thornless Path to Windward" implores sailors (because "gentleman never sail to windward," except when they are going that way of course!) to use this time in the lull of the storm to sail east. We did the exact opposite. Being bored silly, we decided not to wait for the resumption of the trade winds, and we motored to windward: all the way to Georgetown, where we are now sitting and enjoying the sunrise.
The ride was reasonably uneventful. We left at 4 pm. Departure times are marked by a tremendous degree of preliminary mulling about and calculating to predict arrival times coinciding with daylight, preferably with full sun overhead: for example, if we go 6 knots, we'll arrive at harbour at 9 am. But one can not control the winds and seas, despite years of practice trying. The first night, there were lightning storms in the leeward horizon. These were not in the weather forecast. As Charles pointed out on our passage from the states: "this is my future (the windward direction), "and this is my past" (the leeward direction); keeping this in mind, the lightning was only a little scary. Mr. Moon did not come out until 0130, so the starry sky was textbook.
We had a companion for the entire first night's journey. Migration is a tiresome thing, and this handsome fellow came along, squawking both his arrival greeting, and again at his sunrise departure.
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| "No Birdie-Num-Nums for you, in case you have to ..." |
Capt'n had a conversation with him, inviting him to enjoy our hospitality as long as he understood that the downstairs was off limits. Our hitchhiker was respectful. By her second watch with him, our feathered friend had moved back to enjoy the two hours with the first mate from the comfort of the dinghy. Their conversation was about creature comforts, and he mostly complied. He agreed to having his photo taken, despite the trouble of the flash.
The first mate was struck by a migraine the second day and the capt'n kindly toiled alone, relentlessly fussing with the sheets to keep wind in the sails. Like a vampiress, the first mate arose in the dark to take her night watches. They are much more pleasant with music, which does not drain our engine charged batteries under power. We imagine the 2 day passages are similar to the proverbial expression about childbirth: once it is over, the pain passes quickly and you barely remember it. Sufficient amnesia that you are willing to do it again.
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| Approaching Georgetown |
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| The ocean was like a mirror |
So we skipped the out-island hopping experience (we are not much for canned food anyway), and made it to civilization. For many cruisers, Georgetown is the epicentre of the Exuma keys cruising experience. Many boats leave Florida each year, make it here, and go no farther south. There can be up to 600 boats in the harbour at a time. We have not made it into town yet, but there are allegedly many amenities. More later!
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| Volver's first Georgetown sunrise, reflecting off the mirror-like ocean, appearing as in a watercolor painting |
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