St. Thomas, U.S. Virgin Islands…Scott And I Part Ways, Just For A Bit

The trip from Culebra to St. Thomas was a bit bumpy, but uneventful. We enjoyed the passing scenery, while heading for our anchorage in Brewer’s Bay: rocky islands, huge houses under construction, green hills and blue water. Howard felt it his duty to make sure we were on course.


We chose to anchor in Brewer’s Bay for several reasons: it was a quick ride to the airport, for me to fly in and out, it was much less crowded than the bays closer to the town of Charlotte Amalie,  it had easy beach access for leaving the dinghy and from there it was just steps to the main road.

The anchorage was definitely close to the airport..

Really close….

However, the views on the other side of the bay more than made up for the incoming and outgoing planes:

We also came to Brewer’s Bay to meet a couple who had been following our blog. Tristin and Martina had recently began cruising, and we’d exchanged emails about  questions and concerns as they prepared to leave. They are the first blog followers that we’ve gotten to meet in person, and it was fun to spend a bit of time with them, before I headed back to the states.

We’d made some good easting from Puerto Rico to St. Thomas, and I could just as easily fly home to the states from here. Before I left, our first order of business was to stock Scott up with food (and drink) while I was away, so we headed for a grocery store. Safari buses service the island, for $1.00 per person, per ride, and it was just a short walk (up a steep hill) to catch one that would take us to town.

There were doorbell-like switches that ran along the ceiling of the trucks. When you neared your stop, just ring. As we jumped out and paid the driver, Scott thanked him with a friendly “Gracias!”  He’d obviously need time to undo 15 months of Spanish language on the brain.

We found a grocery store that was ok, and a liquor store that had one of Scott’s favorite spiced rum’s he hadn’t seen since leaving Key West. There was also a gourmet food store, where we chose some hard to find goodies, but no food for everyday meals. Before heading back, we walked through the cruise ship terminal’s duty-free stores. The stuff may be duty free, but they more than make up for that in price; it ain’t cheap.

Of course, St. Thomas is a popular cruise ship port. We’re always amazed at the size of these things, and how they keep getting larger and larger; like small cities!

We passed all sorts of safari trucks, waiting to take disembarking passengers to their excursions, tours and shopping in town.

We arrived back at the dinghy at Brewer’s Bay beach, only to discover that someone had tried to steal the motor. They’d gone to great lengths to try and get it off the back of the dinghy, even though it was locked securely to the boat, and the boat was securely locked to a tree (with a stainless steel chain). They managed to break the pull-start and damage the fuel line in, along with getting tons of sand inside the dinghy while they were at it.

Needless to say, Scott  was more than miffed. We’d traveled 15  months, through Mexico, Central America, Panama and Cartagena, without any kind of attempted theft whatsoever. Not three weeks back on U.S. territory soil, and bam, an issue….welcome home.

Scott managed to get the motor started, and once we were back on board Sea Life, and had unloaded our things, he got to work fixing the damage, with the cockpit becoming his usual workshop.

Without to much trouble, Scott repaired the motor, Macgyver-stye, and rewarded himself with an Aluminum Princess excursion.

Martina told us of a new grocery store that had recently opened, in walking distance of the anchorage. Scott did a recon mission, and came back with a good report, so one morning we walked up the hill and down the other side, to the store. It wasn’t eye-catching from the road, you’d hardly notice it as a grocery store, but inside was a different story.

They had a great selection of wine, beer and liquor, as well as a decent choice of produce and meat. I loaded up on items to make meals for Scott, and he grabbed some lunch meat from the friendly deli lady.

The boat was stocked with food and drink, and I was off to Virginia. Tristin and Martina had bought a car for their stay on the island, as she was working as a nurse at the nearby hospital. She was nice enough to taxi us over to the airport, and I was off, leaving Scott and Howard to have some “bro-time” aboard Sea Life.

Here are a few more photos.

“Shells Sink, Dreams Float. Life’s Good On Our Boat!”


Passing Through The Spanish Virgin Islands

** Disclaimer:  Yes, I am behind on my posts.  No, this post is not real time, meaning we’re not in currently in the Spanish Virgins. Keep track of our current location through the Where Are We Now page. **

The weather wasn’t favorable for a smooth ride straight to St. Thomas (going east, and consequently into the wind, is always challenging), so we chose to make a quick visit to the island of Culebra, one of the Spanish Virgin Islands, along the way.

Culebra and Vieques are the primary islands in the Spanish Virgins, but there are also many other smaller islands closer to shore. They’re all part of the Commonwealth of Puerto Rico, and therefore also a territory of the United States. The islands belonged to Spain, before the Spanish-American War, and Spanish is still the primary language. Here’s a map I found online:

Image result for map of the spanish virgin islands

We raised the anchor at dawn, in our quiet, scenic spot along Puerto Rico’s southern coast, and began our short journey to Culebra as the sun rose.

Lush green hills, and many more windmills lined the shore, as we neared the end of mainland Puerto Rico.

It was still pretty early for Howard, so he took advantage of the usual “towel fort” that we build him for travel, and caught some more zzz’s.

We passed by Vieques, the larger of the two main islands, and were anchored behind a reef, off of Culebra’s southwest side by mid afternoon.

We’d had overcast weather during our trip over, but not long after we’d set the anchor, the sun came out to greet us. The view behind the boat was a mix of brilliant green, meeting clear blue, with many different homes scattered among the hills. Off of our bow, we had an open view to the bay, and nearby reef.


AND, we were lucky enough to spot flamingos!!….Honest to goodness flamingos, feeding along the edge of the reef!! Pretty cool, even if I had to look through binoculars to see them, and zoom the camera lens to capture a photo.

Howard took it all in from his shady perch up on the flybridge, beneath the Aluminum Princess. Later, he and Scott enjoyed the sunset together.

The next morning, we decided to dinghy into the bay, and explore the small (and I think only) town of Dewey. We passed the popular Dinghy Dock Restaurant, and continued on, through a short canal that lead to the western side of the island.

Once on the other side, a huge, Rasta-like, metal, monkey-looking sculpture welcomed us to a beautiful, blue water bay. Unfortunately, the winds weren’t favorable for anchoring here.

We came back through the canal, tied the dinghy at the town pier, and walked through town, which didn’t take long. Feeling hungry and parched, the Dinghy Dock called to us. While we had lunch, a school of huge tarpon waited in the water just off the restaurant’s pier for handouts.


Having conquered town, we made our way back to the anchorage. That evening, when Scott dropped the fish light in the water, it seemed the tarpon had followed us home. They were much larger than Howard was used to, and made quite a racket when jumping for smaller fish attracted to the light; scared Howard and me both…yeesh.

The next morning, we would continue on to St. Thomas. Here are a few more photos.

“Shells Sink, Dreams Float. Life’s Good On Our Boat!”

A Short Stay In Puerto Rico

Once officially cleared back into the U.S., we enjoyed a bit of down time. The last of our San Blas lobsters had escaped the eye of the customs officer (safely hidden in the back of the freezer), so I thawed them out for a celebratory lobster curry dinner. With no idea of when we’d find good lobster fishing or availability in the eastern Caribbean, we savored our yummy dinner.

From our slip, we had views of many birds and pelicans roosting in a huge mangrove nearby, keeping Howard amused for hours.

Paseo Tablado La Guancha, was across the bay from the marina, a boardwalk with many food stalls and local music. We wandered over one afternoon, to scope out options for a return evening visit.

In the evening, the boardwalk was full of yummy smells and lively music. We met our slip neighbors, Rick and Lori (s/v Papa Whiskey), for some food and drink.

Our decision to head for Puerto Rico from Colombia was made to get us farther east, rather than landing in Jamaica or the Dominican Republic. Our decision to land at Ponce was made for provisioning reasons. With a Super Walmart, Home Depot, PetSmart, several large grocery stores, and even an Ikea, Ponce provided great options for stocking the boat. We rented a car and headed off for a day of shopping. First stop, Playa Marine, a small store so out of the way, I’m surprised anyone finds it.


Scott didn’t find the anodes he was looking for, but we did get a can of varnish that was on clearance…hoping it was still good.

We headed back to town, amazed by the number of windmills in the area; they were everywhere.


And in case you forgot, there were constant reminders that you were in Ponce:

We made stops at the local grocery store, Walmart, PetSmart and Home Depot, filling the car. There was also the usual fast-food lunch, as well as a stop at the McDonald’s ice cream counter.

The plan was to make our way along the southern coast of Puerto Rico, and then spend time in the Spanish Virgins, before moving on to the U.S. Virgin Islands. Unfortunately, I received word from home that my mother had fallen, breaking two bones in her leg. Wanting to be there to help, I planned to fly home for a month. I could have flown right from Puerto Rico, but traveling from St. Thomas would be just as easy, and it put us that much farther east.

Weather didn’t allow for a smooth passage right to St. Thomas, so we planned to make a stop at Culebra, in the Spanish Virgins. We left Ponce, and followed the mountainous, windmill-lined coast to our overnight anchorage.

We anchored for the night off of southern coast, approximately five miles from the town of Salinas, surrounded by mountains and mangroves.


Howard relaxed and enjoyed the smells of the open boat at anchor, after a week of being stuck inside at the slip in Ponce.

It had been a cloudy, rainy day, but the late afternoon brought sunshine and blue skies. We had the area all to ourselves, and enjoyed the quiet, scenic spot. A beautiful send off, on our way east. Here are a few more photos.

 “Shells Sink, Dreams Float. Life’s Good On Our Boat!”

Puerto Rico: Sea Life Returns To U.S. Waters

After a good night’s sleep, tied to the fuel dock at the Ponce Yacht & Fishing Club, we spent the next morning filling Sea Life’s fuel tanks, taking on 670 gallons of diesel. We then moved over to our assigned slip, and settled in.

With our week-long, “nautical” passage from Cartagena behind us, it was time to clear into Puerto Rico…a U.S. territory. Easy-peasy, right? Well, not so much. We hadn’t bothered to call in when we arrived, as it was 7pm on a Saturday. Once we had refueled and tied into our slip, Scott rang the Ponce Coast Guard office. They were not happy with us, upon finding out that we’d waited 16 hours before contacting them. Scott explained our late arrival the day before, and was informed that he was expected to call upon arrival, no matter the time, leaving a message if there was no answer.  Hmm, not something we’d ever think of doing, or be expected to do….being U.S. citizens.

Scott was told that officers were on their way to the boat, to clear us in. After waiting, and waiting some more, and calling to check on their progress, three officers finally arrived at our slip. Only one came aboard; a friendly woman, who briefly checked the refrigerator and freezer stores, and asked about fresh stuff. I explained that we had no fresh things left, after our long passage from Cartagena. She asked if we had any trash from Cartagena, and I replied no; the only trash on board was from our passage. However, as far as customs was concerned, our passage trash was Colombia trash, and needed to be incinerated.

Sadly for us, there was no incinerator in Ponce….so she “quarantined” our garbage.  The bag was sealed  with yellow tape, marked “Quarantine.” The  officer went on to explain that it could not be kept in the cockpit, and had to be stored inside….HUH?!? The woman was very apologetic, and explained that once we arrived in St. Thomas, we could inform officials there that we had trash to dispose of, and that they most likely had an incinerator. So we were to keep the stinky trash bag inside?….until we get to St. Thomas?…which will be weeks away?? HUH?!?!?

While I was dealing with the trash police, Scott was being berated by one of the officers who remained out on the pier. Here’s how the conversation roughly went:

Officer Unfriendly:  How much does a boat like this go for??

Scott: We have her insured for $250,000.00

Officer Unfriendly: Really..what do you do for a living?

Scott: I’m a mechanical contractor.

Officer Unfriendly: So you have a job like that, and you can afford a boat like this?

Scott: I spent 4,000 hours, working on her myself.

Officer Unfriendly: So you know how to do all of that?

Scott: Would you like to come aboard? I’d be happy to show you?

Officer Unfriendly: I don’t want to come on your boat.

Scott was seething under the surface, getting the distinct impression the officer was insinuating that illegal money was involved in our refit/cruising budget. To be fair, we had just come from Cartagena, and Puerto Rico is not a routine destination for a boat coming from Colombia to the Eastern Caribbean. Still, Scott wanted to scream at the guy… Either get on my boat and inspect it, and do your job….or back off!

After managing to get through the Officer Unfriendly conversation without erupting, Scott came aboard to find out about our trash situation….not good. He told the woman we’d be happy to store the bag up on the flybridge, in the Aluminum Princess, but she refused. Since the boat wasn’t enclosed, it was not an option, and therefore the trash had to stay inside the boat.

Scott remained calm, long enough for us to get cleared back into our own country (welcome back to the U.S., and to ridiculous rules that make no sense). He then got straight to work, figuring a way around the trash issue. We were not going to lug this smelly bag around with us for weeks, so after some thought, Captain MacGyver hatched a plan.

The bag couldn’t be opened from the top, as that would break the quarantine tape. Instead, Scott decided to go at it from the bottom. He sliced the bag at the seal, and emptied the smelly contents into a new bag that we promptly dumped into the nearest trash can on the pier.  The quarantine bag was then filled with “clean” trash that we collected over the next several days….paper, plastic, empty cans that were rinsed out, etc. When it was acceptably full with said clean trash, Scott sealed the bottom of the bag closed with super glue along the seam, and voila!…a full bag of quarantined trash.

Thankfully, we wouldn’t have to deal with customs when leaving Puerto Rico, as our next stop would be the U.S. Virgin Islands, and U.S. boats aren’t required to clear in and out when moving between U.S. territories. Good thing, as we’d had enough “Welcome to the U.S.” to last us a while!

“Shells Sink, Dreams Float. Life’s Good On Our Boat!”

Our Passage From Cartagena To Puerto Rico

Settle in…this one will take awhile.

To make the Eastern Caribbean, Scott’s plan was to head immediately north out of Cartagena, getting as much distance from the Colombian coast as possible, before turning east in a tight reach run toward Puerto Rico.

With this passage being our longest and most challenging, he decided to defer to a professional, and pay for weather routing. The plan came back for us to follow the Colombian coast, keeping out of some current and then turn north. Scott wasn’t thrilled with the idea, but he resisted the urge to argue.

Taking into account the oncoming wind and waves, and constant use of the paravanes, we hoped for a speed of six knots, worse case five. When we received the route, it had us arriving a day earlier than Scott’s calculations, so there was some back and forth to confirm how fast our boat would be able to travel.

With a weather window that wouldn’t get any better in the near future, we cast off lines, and headed east. Our destination was Ponce, located on Puerto Rico’s south central coast. There were other options, but Ponce was farther east, and had many stores in the area for us to shop (Walmart Supercenter, Home Depot, Ace Hardware, auto parts stores, PetSmart, and….fast foodl!).

Sunday – Day One: We made our way out of Cartagena’s harbor through the north cut. It was shorter than the south route we followed into Cartagena, by more than two hours, but challenging to navigate.

There is an old submerged wall at the north cut, put in place to be a harbor defense. Ships would run aground on the wall, tearing their bottom out. This forced them to use the deeper south entrance, which is visible from forts in the area and more easily defended.

A section of the submerged wall has been removed for boats to pass through, but we were unsure of it’s depth. After inquiring online, a local expat informed us that we had eight feet to work with; more than enough, as we only needed five. We made our way easily through the cut, and out into the Caribbean Sea.

As predicted, our passage began with unusually calm conditions, considering Colombia’s coast is the most challenging Caribbean location to “escape” from. Even with virtually non-existent wind, the swells were very sizable. Luckily, they were far enough apart, so even in a head sea we traveled over them comfortably.

As is usual for this area, the winds picked up considerably as evening approached. We spent the entire night traveling right into 20 knot winds, which was a bit lumpy. I was so grateful for our bow height! Even at nine feet above the waterline, we were getting covered in heavy spray. The pilot house was also worth it’s weight in gold at this point, provding the opportunity to be inside!

Howard did not enjoy the increase in wind and swells. I managed to get food into him in the afternoon, and we made two successful trips to the litter box. I helped brace him as he did both numbers one and two (it was clear by the look on his face that he was mortified by this), and was satisfied that basic needs were being met.

However, later attempts to get food into him resulted in two vomiting episodes, and a generally miserable feline. I tucked him in tight with pillows to keep his movement to a minimum and covered him in cold towels to help keep him cool, which seemed to help.

We began the passage with the saloon doors open and the screen pulled across for fresh air. After dark, the sounds of flying fish landing and flopping in the cockpit was too distracting for seasick Howard. It wasn’t worth risking more vomit, so we closed the doors.

I have a hard time sleeping while on passage, only getting an hour or so at a time, and this time was no different.  It’s hard for me to block out movement of the boat and noise of the motor. On this passage, I was also trying to block out noise of the wind and waves, which was almost impossible.

As a result, I took watch as much as possible, and let Scott store up on sleep. He’d begin the day at dawn, while I rested on the couch and did a few chores. At about 10-11am, I’d come back up to the pilothouse until 5pm, and Scott would come on until I started my night watch, which usually ran from 10pm until 5am.

As usual, I sang my way through eight hours of night watch, while keeping an eye on the instruments and radar. Our Delorme satellite tracker is invaluable when we’re underway. I am able to text with others cruisers, and friends at home, until they go to bed. Then I switch over to friends in the UK as they wake up…awesome!

Monday – Day Two: When I woke Scott at dawn, the winds were back down to ten knots. We opened the saloon doors and the smell of dead flying fish hit us in the face. Scott collected thirty, from both the cockpit and side decks.

Later in the day, he went up onto the flybridge, to investigate an unnerving noise (Many sounds occur in big seas, from unexpected items rolling around. Some are never identified, and remain maddening), and found a dead flying fish up there as well!

Even though the winds had subsided, it took hours for the swells to follow suit, but by late morning we were back in easily tolerable head seas. I took the calmer conditions as a chance for Howard to lap up some chicken broth, and he was able to get some actual rest, wedged in between the legs of whomever was sleeping on the couch.

Again, the winds increased in the evening. Scott was concerned that we were now near the Colombia/Venezuelan border, and asked me to be extra diligent as I kept an eye on the radar screen that night. There haven’t been any recent reports of issues with boats in the area, but it never hurts to be more aware. I saw two or three large ships on the screen, more than twelve miles out; aside from that, we were alone.

Tuesday – Day Three: I’d spent the night hearing almost constant thuds outside from fish impact, and in the light of day I could see why. The dead carcasses were everywhere, and their odor came right through the closed doors. Our saloon smelled like a fish cannery, and Scott’s morning carcass count came to a whopping 130!

Fish aside, by now, I could no longer stand the smell of myself. At night, the saloon and pilothouse doors were closed, to keep flying fish out. This stems from one managing to make it’s way through a window that was barely cracked open on a previous passage. It landed on Scott’s face as he slept on the saloon couch, so now….doors closed at dark!

As a result, the boat gets quite toasty inside at night. We keep fans pointed at us, but it’s still pretty darned warm. The need for a shower was now interfering with what little sleep I manage to get, so I decided that come hell, big wind or swells, I was bathing today! It went better than expected, with the molded shower seat coming in handy, and I emerged a new, non-smelly person.

By late afternoon, the winds ramped up with a vengeance. I spent the night watching winds stay at 20+ knots, almost squarely on our nose. We now had white caps and sizable waves along with the huge swells. At one point, I looked out, and saw the churning sea below us. We were perched up on a big-mamma wave, before sliding down it’s side. I was glad that it would soon be dark, hiding my view of the chaotic water coming at us.

Frequently, as we were coming down a wave, another would hit with us from underneath, and the sound of impact was loud, jarring and scary. Sea Life handled the conditions like a champ; the crew, not so much. Howard threw up again, and Scott went to sleep with the assistance of a Valium.

Wednesday – Day Four: Since we were virtually alone, and there was just the occasional ship passing 12 or 16 miles away, I’d spent the night watching movies. Our friends aboard s/v Prism were also underway, heading from the San Blas to the Cayman Islands. We each have a Delorme, so Shannon and I spent time each evening chatting  back and forth. At dawn, I came off watch and woke Scott. Our morning fish carcass count was only 30. I think we were too much of a moving target, for them to intersect with.

Howard was becoming more tolerant of the conditions underway. He kept down some broth and canned chicken, and made another successful visit to the litter box with help from me for stabilization. I considered it progress.

The stupid, big winds lasted for 18 nerve-wracking hours, before dropping back down to 12 or so knots mid-morning. It’s amazing how quiet and calm 12 knots is, after living with winds in the 20s for so long. The strong winds along with current in the area kept pushing us west during the night but Scott was now able to change our course a bit, putting us more on track for Puerto Rico. We are finally crossed the halfway point, but three more days of this seems like forever!

Thursday – Day Five: Overnight conditions remained the same as the previous night. Winds increased, and we lumbered through the waves and swells. While on watch, I suddenly heard a strange thud in front of me, inside the pilothouse, and knew exactly what had happened….fish breach.

I mentioned Scott being hit in the face as he slept, when a fish came through a cracked window. This time, one managed to travel under the solar panels (which are mounted above the pilothouse, and sit only six inches above the pilothouse roof) and down through one of the small hatches in ceiling! We keep these hatches open, unless the air conditioning is running. With the solar panels mounted just above them, we can get air into the pilothouse without worrying about rain or the sun’s heat coming in, but obviously fish are a concern.

As the smelly fish flopped around on the chart table, I stayed put on the bench and yelled out, “SCOTT!!!!…..FISH!!!…SCOTT??!?!?…FISH INSIDE!!! Scott woke immediately from his sleep, and quickly appeared with paper towel in hand. In the dim light, he located and grabbed the icky, flopping fish and chucked it out of the pilothouse door. Scott then attempted to wipe up the mess left behind; slim, scales and whatever those things throw up when they’re under stress. As you can imagine, the pilothouse now smelled wonderful. Aside from the drama of a fish breach, the rest of my night watch was uneventful. I saw one or two ships on the radar the entire time, none closer than 12 miles.

Day five brought several variables converging at once, making for a stressful day of calculations, schedule change and worry.

After learning that Colombia only sells bio-diesel fuel, we did not take on fuel in Cartagena, A mix of diesel and vegetable oil, it’s make-up “cleans” the build up inside fuel tanks, resulting in clogged filters and the need to change them more frequently to avoid motor issues. Scott stocks spares (of everything), but did not want to make a passage of this distance not knowing how the bio-diesel would react, and not wanting to be in the engine room changing filters throughout the trip.

Scott keeps records of our fuel usage, and accurately knows how much we use, depending on travel speed. What he needed to know, was how much fuel remained in our tanks as we prepared to leave Cartagena . Getting a somewhat accurate read on our fuel levels was challenging, as the tanks are oddly shaped, versus a clean rectangle or square.

There are sight lines marked on the tanks, but Scott was unsure as to their accuracy. After discussions with fellow Krogen owners, who have boats of similar age and cruising distance as Sea Life, Scott calculated, and calculated and calculated some more….and after more calculations was comfortable that we had enough fuel to get us from Cartagena to Puerto Rico, with 100 or so gallons to spare..great!

This was all well and good until day three of our passage, when we began to fight a strong, unexpected oncoming current, which slowed our speed considerably. Scott estimated our speed to average at near 5.5 knots, allowing for slowing from paravane use, increased wind and a running in and out of some current. Unfortunately, we hadn’t been able to shake the current, and winds were also stronger than predicted. These variables had us traveling at an average closer to 4 knots (much of the time, in the high 3 knot range).

At this much slower speed, it seemed our arrival time may be delayed by a day, maybe two. This brought concern as to whether there was enough fuel to continue for that amount of time. We discussed alternate locations (Dominican Republic and Jamaica), but weren’t sure they were viable options for saving fuel. Scott checked the levels again, which was challenging with the movement of being underway. We had fuel left in both tanks, and Scott planned to run one dry, giving him an idea of how much we’d have left in the remaining tank to use.

Meanwhile, I was wrapping my brain around the possibility that we had more days ahead of us than originally planned. My threshold for passages is three days, after that, I’m done; done with wind, boat movement, motor noise, shifts, odd sleep patterns…just done. Our longest trip so far has been almost four full days, and that was more than enough for me. I was already dreading the fact that we had to endure six days to get to Puerto Rico. My passage frustration peaked on day four, and the idea of more travel time made me insane.

Friday – Day Six: During my overnight shift, our speed suffered, averaging  2.9-3.5 knots. We just couldn’t escape the strong, oncoming current, and it was maddening. After awhile, I just stopped looking at the speed. I’d already stopped looking at the weather station, as our wind speed never went below 20. Passages suck.

The only ship that we were able to visibly see (not just on radar) passed by off to our starboard side in the morning. It detoured around us, saving an uncomfortable course change. This photo doesn’t look across the water at the ship. You’re looking at a wall of water.

At roughly 3pm, the winds increased to 30 knots. Our speed, which had gone back up closer to 4 knots, was now back at 2.9-3….terrific.These conditions were insanely unnerving. We were seeing more sky than water out of the front windows, as the boat launched up huge waves. The noise of the wind, and the sound of the motor as the boat battled it’s way up and down the waves was terrifying at times.

When we began cruising, the sight of larger waves and water coming at us scared me to death. It’s one of the main reasons that I choose to do the all-night watch, so I cannot see the big water. I have made great strides along the way, realizing that Sea Life can handle this stuff, and have become much better at looking out the windows. I was very proud of myself on this passage, being able to stare out at a sea in 20+ knots of wind and not flinch….up until now.

At 30 knots, the seas were huge and angry looking, so I did the last of my afternoon watch focusing on the radar, or the computer screen, and not outside. Downstairs on a break before my night shift, I wasn’t sure if I’d be able to go back up to the pilothouse; I was terrified. However, by 10pm, after seven hours of 30 knots and huge seas, I was numb to it, and handled my night shift just fine.

Oddly, as outside conditions worsened, Howard transitioned, and became much more tolerant of all the movement and noise. It was as if he thought this was his new life, and he may as well adjust to the situation. Wind or no wind, wave jolts aside, motor noise be damned, he was gonna eat and sleep as usual.

He began to demand food, jumping from the end table up to the raised galley counter, where he could lay supported by the surrounding fiddles (raised wood trim). I hesitantly fed him, and he demanded more, so I gave him seconds. Later in the day, I noticed that he’d made a successful trip to the litter box on his own. Howard was becoming a champion passage cat!

Scott continued to keep a close eye on our fuel consumption. We were still drawing from the tank that he planned to run dry,  so it seemed that we’d make Ponce without having to paddle….fingers crossed.

By 3am, the winds eased a bit, and were back down to just over 20 knots, but it was still an unnerving go. Shortly after, I noticed a band of rain heading for us. I woke Scott, just to be sure it wasn’t something to be concerned about. After checking the radar screen, he informed me that it would most likely miss us. It did not miss us, and the winds quickly ramped up to 37 knots, with higher gusts….yay for us.

Saturday – Day Seven:  We’d expected to arrive in Ponce Puerto Rico sometime after dawn this morning, but were now just hoping to make it by dark. The good news was that Scott was now completely confident that we had the fuel to get there.

I came downstairs after my night watch to wake Scott, and found Howard laying on the floor outside the galley, waiting for food. He seemed oblivious to the fact that he was sliding back and forth with the movement of the boat. I fed him a normal amount of his usual food, and he scarfed it up. At least someone was tolerating this stuff.

Moving around the boat had been challenging since the beginning. We have grab rails in place, allowing something to hold on to while coming out of the pilothouse and down to the galley, and also going down below to the head.

Getting to and from the couch in the saloon to sleep, was a different matter. Scott is tall enough to reach the grab rail along the ceiling, but it’s a reach for me when we’re not moving, and became impossible during our lumpy ride. I would swing myself toward the couch, using the pole in the galley counter, landing in a flop. Getting off of the couch was more difficult. With nothing to pull myself up, I’d end up launching forward as I rose, going into an immediate crab walk to keep from falling over.

As conditions worsened, it became increasingly hard to move around. Simple things became challenging, and sometimes dangerous. When getting something out of the refrigerator, you had to keep hold of the door with one hand, to keep it from banging into you. Going up and down to the pilot house was hard, even with the grab rails. I chose to almost crawl, keeping a low center of gravity, and my crab walk had become more of a caveman-like stomp.

I was dying for another shower, but it was just too stinkin’ rough to chance it. Instead, I settled for attempting freshness with baby wipes, deodorant and fresh clothes.

In Howard’s efforts to adjust to his “new life,” he attempted sleeping in his usual spots. I discovered him trying to sleep on top of the cabinet below our tv. Again, he was sliding back and forth with the boat’s movement, so I wedged a towel on one side of him for support.  Next, he attempted to sleep in his “taco,” which is attached atop a scratching post, Worried it would topple over, with his weight to one side of it, I took him out and laid the thing down on it’s side. He promptly straddled it, to stretch and scratch. If only I could adjust half this well.

The rain squalls moved over us until late morning. I laid on the couch, listening to the winds howl, and bracing myself against the boat’s movement, having another bought with terror. After some time, I again realized the boat could handle it, but was beyond done with wind, waves and current. With Scott being well rested, he offered to hunker down and keep watch for the final leg, God love him. Not that there was much to watch…winds still mid to upper 20s, with occasional stretches of 30, current still against us and seas still angry.

Scott settled into an iPod trance in the pilothouse, I continued my marathon re-watching of the tv show LOST in the saloon and Howard became an eating machine, making up for lost time earlier in the week;  we were all just trying to get through it.

I’d occasionally check on Scott, and find the winds, current and sea state just as I’d left them. By mid afternoon our speed was thankfully back up to 4 knots, and we were on track to arrive in Ponce at approximately 6pm! Scott was now counting down time to our arrival at the channel’s entrance. From there, it would be less than an hour to the marina.

Soon, Puerto Rico finally came into view! As the coast of Ponce got closer, we kept our eyes glued to the horizon, for a first glimpse of the red and green channel markers.

Just before 6pm, we entered the Holy Land….Ponce channel! As we approached the marina, Scott brought the boat to idle, so he could pull the birds in, raise the paravanes and get our fenders down from the flybridge for docking. We had our slip assignment at Ponce Yacht & Fishing Club, but weren’t up for trying to find it in the dark.  Since the tanks had to be filled at some point, we chose to tie to the fuel dock for the night, allowing us to get that job out of the way first thing in the morning.

At 6:30pm on April 29th, we turned off the motor, which had run for six and a half days. Considering our struggles along the way, we could live with arriving twelve hours past our original target time. Sea Life had handled the passage like a champ. We were reconfirmed of our decision to purchase a Krogen, with it’s incredibly seaworthy, full displacement hull. She was a tank in the heavy winds and huge seas, not slamming up and down, but firmly launching up one side of a wave, before sliding down the other side like a beach ball.

We were completely exhausted, but thrilled to be over this huge hurdle, and safely in the Eastern Caribbean! As we tied up to the dock and opened the doors, Howard was happy as a clam to breath in the new smells, and scope out his land surroundings.

Once we were safely tied to the dock, Scott ran the generator so we could sleep in the air conditioning. Now, first and foremost….showers, showers, SHOWERS!! We enjoyed some well deserved celebratory cocktails with a frozen pizza dinner, and then the crew of Sea Life, Howard included, collapsed into post-passage comas.

“Shells Sink, Dreams Float. Life’s Good On Our Boat!”