 |
| Sal Pa Dentro: the Cruiser's Bar |
 |
| More candles than years old made this tough! |
Volver left Salinas after a nine day stay. We almost forgot how to sail and we definitely forgot about the afternoon screaming mimis that blow, usually up to 25 knots. More properly known as katabatic winds, they howl every afternoon, are created by land effects, and make sailing east along the south coast of Puerto Rico a real chore. Fortunately, we sailed westward.
 |
| Leaving Salinas behind |
As we left, we joked about getting stuck in our plannned anchorage, named Gilligan's Island. There are two stories behind this name. The first is that a woman swam to the island and stayed for several years. The second is that a local fisherman looked just like Gilligan, and the name stuck. It's proper name is Cayo de Gorda, but over time, even the charts refer to it as Gilligan's Island.
Our trip to Gilligan's Island was no joke. Early in our journey, the winds picked up so we headed into the wind to put a reef in the main. While doing this, the reef lines got stuck in the boom. Once fixed, the main halyard got stuck on the steaming light. The only way to rescue this is to climb the main (really, be hoisted up it in a bosun's chair): not going to happen in 20 plus knots if we can help it. Decided with that much wind we'd try to get there on jib sail alone. We did okay and then the wind stalled, so we used the spare halyard (topping lift) and raised the reefed main. Nice downwind sail until we were approaching our harbour entrance and decided we were overpowered and should bring in the jib. It was now blowing 30 knots, and the first mate could not get the boat headed into the wind unless she powered the engine up to 3000 rpm: fine for a burst, but too high for sustained use. The jib furling line was firmly entangled in the chocks, and stubbornly refused to be pulled in.
Captain went up to the bow to investigate. We were not wearing lifejackets nor tied on to the boat: we don't usually engage in proper safety behavior when we can see the shore (and also the US Coast guard instills a false sense of confidence). Of course, since we were headed into the wind, the boat was now crashing into the waves, which were washing over the bow and the captain. He came back, grabbed a sacrificial life jacket that we keep in the dinghy and went forward again, with a plan to roll the head sail up at the furling drum itself. The sail and hardware and sheets were pummelling him. He then discovered the jib sheet had tied an intricate, houdini-esque, knot snuggly around one of the lifelines. He swore like the proverbial sailor. When the sails were finally put away, it was obvious the jib, which now had a strip of fabric torn loose and flying like a flag, and the sheet (there are no ropes on a boat), which had chunks bitten into it, were both quite damaged due to the flailing about. So was the captain. Both of the lenses were lost from his sunglasses. Fortunately, his eyes were intact. Bruised the lenghth of one side of his body and on his face: pain medicine was offered and ingested, and he was relieved of all other duties for the night. Three days later, his starboard side is an intense shade of purple: he looks like he was flogged by BlackBeard himself.
The high winds howled on into the night, so we were unable to properly inspect the jib prior to turning in for much deserved rest. Somehow, during the night, our mast head wind indicator snapped in two, and had a burial at sea. Or did a bird sit on it, and break it? The first mate will climb the mast up to the point where she stands on the second set of spreaders but she does not go higher. Any higher, and the leverage the keel provides is insufficient, and the arc of swing is too much. The mast head is about 10-12 feet higher than this. If we can find a replacement for the wind indicator, we need to either hire a climber, or else a burly man to hoist the captain up, and a calm day!
The next day, the forecast was good, followed by two days of high seas and high winds, so we wanted to get on our way. No three days on Gilligan's Island, please! We readied our little storm jib, just in case. It hanks over the furling jib, which clearly had to remain furled to contain the sail damage. The first mate was hoisted up the mast by 0600 hours, the halyard untangled, and we were off by 0700. We had a 30 nm sail by the crow's route, a little longer when you throw in some gybes. Happy Chaos usually passes us on the way, (we noted on the AIS that they were doing 8.7 knots: no wonder they are so happy!) but we were fast, average speed of 7 knots, with reefed main alone. We were safely at anchor in Boqueron by 1230, just an hour after the afternoon winds set in.
Despite Boqueron being the most popular anchorage on the west coast, there are very few marine services. Our quest to find a sailmaker was unsuccessful. The town residents are very helpful and we were given lots of names and one nice business owner advised that his machine often breaks on sails and he'd rather not, as he had a lot of canvas work scheduled. We were in a bit of a lurch, with a tight schedule to get off to the DR and the Bahamas when the weather window opens up, knowing there is no sailmaker in our single planned stop in the DR, and one sailmaker in the Bahamas, close to Florida. Too much ground to cover to go with no jib!
Volver owns a sewing machine: broken. Laura from the Happy boat advised, "you are really lucky that we are here!" Yes, we are. And grateful. No professionals, no problem. Sailors are resourceful people. And kind! Thank you very much to Eileen at the marina in Boqueron, who allowed us to use their party room to repair our 50 plus foot long sail with the happy sewing machine. The sail will need replaced, but it should safely get us home now, barring any additional mishaps.
The trip to the Dominican Republic involves crossing the "Mona Passage." This is short, but feared and revered: more so by boats going the opposite direction (for one heads into the winds and seas). One of the deepest places of the ocean floor meets a long shallow shelf, and this always usually leads to big, confused waves. In addition, there are frequent midnight thunderstorms, so we'll need to be across and out of harms way before that time.
Many people try to bypass the DR due to security and immigration (bribery) concerns, but there are marinas where the staff ensure there is no nonsense, and given how poorly we sleep on overnight passages, we'll stop to minimize the number of nights of lost sleep. We moved our sleeping quarters to the aft cabin, where one is less bothered by the creaking and groaning of the sails and rigging and the crashing of the waves into the hull. Today, we are cooking some passage meals in preparation for take off on thursday. Currently, waiting for bread dough to rise. Will try our hand at making stromboli: basically, a pizza roll up. Finger food, hot or cold, is terrific for passagemaking.
Puerto Rico has been the surprise hit of the trip thus far. We have not seen half of all we would like to see, and could easily spend another month here. The people are very friendly, and even the strictly unilingual residents try very hard to be helpful. Spanglish and gesticulations are often sufficient.
Last year, we were so concerned about how to make it down to the Caribbean safely that we did not much consider our route home. The first mate scowled and said, "I'm never doing this again--we're going to ship this boat home from Florida!" during the long passage down, and that is the plan. The Bahamas are a whole different creature though. Basically a beautiful series of sandbars interrupted by reefs, one has to carefully plan navigation around good sunlight, as there is a lot of eyeball navigation required. Yesterday, a new aquaintance, Charlie, advised, "there are going to be a lot of places where you are sitting with 2 feet of water under your keel. Get used to it and don't worry about it!" There will be a learning curve. In addition, being much farther north, the Bahamas is much more affected by the storms that have been wreaking havoc on the US East Coast all winter. We have to get home to get out of the Hurricane belt, but not so early we still get caught in the cold and stormy weather!
No comments:
Post a Comment