Kadey Krogen 42′

Fort de France, Martinique

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Leaving the quiet, scenic town of St. Pierre, we made our way just a few hours along the coast of Martinique, to the capital city of Fort de France. It was a good next stop, and offered larger stores for groceries. Along the way, we again enjoyed scenic views of this beautiful island.

 Fort de France became economically important after the eruption of Mount Pele, and the destruction of the town of St. Pierre in 1902. In addition to being the capital of Martinique, it’s also one of the major cities in the Caribbean, exporting sugar, rum canned fruit and cacao. I found some good aerial views of the city online:

The capital city has recently reinvented itself as a cruise-ship destination, with the construction of two new terminals. As we approached the harbor, it was clear we’d have an imposing neighbor nearby.

We anchored just off of the downtown area, and in view of Fort St. Louis, which is still in use by the French navy.

 

(Notice the McDonald’s in front of the cathedral, Scott was  thrilled.)

We enjoyed our first evening watching the cruise ship crew test lifeboats, and bracing ourselves against the wakes of the constant ferry traffic going to and from the town dock.

The many wakes were worth the colorful sunset views over the city.

In the morning, we made our way to the dinghy dock and into town, zigzagging the narrow, colorful streets.

We turned a corner, and came upon the colorfully ornate Bibliotheque Schoelcher (Schoelcher Library), at the edge of the city’s park. (the lighting was horrible in my photos, so I borrowed some online)

Abolitionist, writer and politician Victor Schœlcher left his vast library of 10,000 books to the General Council of Martinique in the late 19th century, on the condition that they should be kept in a private library open to all, with the intention of educating former slaves. Today, the library houses over 300,000 books.

We learned that the building was created in Paris, and then shipped to Martinique in pieces to be assembled…impressive!

Just blocks away is the St. Louis Cathedral, the seventh to have been built at this site. (I borrowed this photo online, due to construction fences around the entire base of the cathedral when we visited)

What we found most impressive about the cathedral is that the present one was completed as far back as 1895. It was designed by Henri Picq, who also envisioned the Bibliothèque Schœlcher.  This current cathedral is constructed with an iron frame and reinforced concrete, which has contributed greatly to its longevity.

Inside, we learned that the wooden pulpit, 19 stained glass windows, organ and wrought-iron railing are all original to the 1895 structure.

Scott stopped for a McDonald’s fix, and then it was on to Leader Price, a local grocery store. We perused the aisles, and bought a few things at good prices. With groceries in hand, we called it a day.

The next morning, it was back into town to clear out of Martinique. As I mentioned previously, clearing in and out of the French islands is far less complicated than other islands in the Eastern Caribbean, and much easier than on the western side. Computers are located in various shops throughout the islands, and except for a few euros paid to said shops for the service, the process is free. Find a computer, fill out the online form, pay at the register, and receive your printed clearance papers…done!

However, there are a few challenges: obviously, the language can cause some confusion when filling out forms, and European keyboards are a bit different than what we’re used to…just enough to cause frustration. We stopped in at Sea Services to clear out, and Scott managed the process just fine, despite a small boy looking over his shoulder.

Once cleared out of Martinique, we had 24 hours before having to leave. We set off to find the local mall, where another grocery store was located. Along the way, we poked our head into the local open market, before finding the mall just a few blocks away.

It was strange to see a large grocery store inside of a mall, but Carrefour did not disappoint. We came out with more groceries, and cheap, French foods. Wine, cheeses and other yummy items are incredibly affordable on the French islands.

We made our way back to the dinghy, using strange, revolving gates to cross the main street.

Scott was in love with the dinghy dock here. It was huge, with plenty of space for dinghies. The edge was covered in stainless steel, providing a smooth, kind surface for inflatables, and offered many stainless rings for tying off.

Later that evening, we returned to town for dinner at one of the many food stalls lining La Savane park, near the waterfront. I was so hungry, I forgot my camera, so here’s an online, aerial view.

We opted for kabobs, and they were nothing like I expected…much more delicious! Chicken was carved off of a spit, similar to a gyro, then placed on bread that was thinner than a pita, but thicker than a tortilla. Next, yummy garlic sauce was added, followed by tomatoes, peppers onions and…wait for it….french fries! Then, for the “piece de resistance,” the whole thing was wrapped like a burrito and placed in a hot press.

Whoever came up with this thing was a food genius. The wrap of awesomeness was yummy in my mouth, long after I was finished eating it. We hope to visit Martinique again, to explore more of the island, and will definitely make a pit stop at Fort de France, for another fix.

Our short stay in Fort de France was over, as winds were good to make another jump toward Grenada. We were leaving one beautiful island and heading for another; next stop, St. Lucia. Here are a few more photos.

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

 

A Day Of Rum, At Depaz Distillery On Martinique

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Martinique is home to seven rum distilleries, one of which was within walking distance of our anchorage in St. Pierre. A day of rum was definitely appealing to Scott, so we set off to visit the Depaz Distillery.

We climbed out of town, past more “volcano” ruins, and onto a rural road that led to the distillery. Our path was lined with sugar cane fields.

Dodging rain along the way, we eventually spotted the distillery ahead, with it’s grand manor house.

We walked up the lane, past the restaurant with Mt. Pele in the distance and began to explore the grounds.

Several out-buildings described how the rum is made, and a small museum in the visitor’s center depicted Martinique’s history of rum, and that of the Depaz Distillery.

Here is what we learned:

Rum’s origins can be traced to the Caribbean, where over time, each island developed its own approach to making rum, but Martinique’s is very different from the others.

Almost all of the world’s rum is produced by fermenting and distilling molasses, a byproduct of the sugar industry, and is referred to as “rhum industrial.” When sugar cane’s power plummeted in the mid-19th century, distillers in Martinique and its neighboring French islands began a large-scale production of rum that originated directly from sugarcane, removing the sugar factory (the source of molasses) from the standard process.

The juice of fresh-cut sugarcane is taken directly from field to distillery, preventing spoilage. This “land to bottle” style is where the island’s signature spirit gets it’s name: “rhum agricole”, or agricultural rum. As a result, Martinique’s distilleries were booming by the early 1900’s. The number of operating distilleries has shrunk dramatically, from around 75 in 1935, to just seven today, but rhum agricole has held on.

Martinique is the only geographic area in the rum industry that has earned an AOC,  which translates to controlled designation of origin, which is a big deal. AOC specifies that a particular food or drink (such as the yummy blue cheese from Roquefort or the sparkling wine from Champagne), is a regional specialty, and notable enough to merit it’s own “identity.”

The AOC requires the cultivators of the sugar cane, and the producers of rum, to adhere to various regulations. Neighboring French islands of Guadeloupe and Marie-Galante make near-identical styles of rum, but only Martinique has earned this AOC mark from the French government, which was awarded to them in 1996.

Above the city of Saint Pierre, among the hills that gradually rise to Mount Pele, is the Depaz distillery, a grand sugarcane plantation manor. The original distillery and manor house were destroyed by Mount Pele’s eruption. The sole family survivor, Victor Depaz had been studying in Bordeaux, France at the time of the eruption. He returned to Martinique 15 years later, and began to rebuild his family’s extensive estate and distillery. His return was an emotional one, as the city of Saint-Pierre had been described by some who knew the family as the “cradle of Victor’s childhood, and the tomb of his family.”

Working tirelessly, Victor Depaz focused his efforts on replanting the surrounding land, specifically rebuilding the agricultural distillery on the hundreds of acres he called home.

As luck would have it, the volcanic eruption left extremely fertile topsoil, in which Victor planted rare “blue” sugar cane (blue cane is the only type that requires true volcanic soil to flourish). This signature estate-produced blue cane is considered the most costly and difficult to grow, and delivers the ideal balance of sugars for Depaz rum’s maximum flavor and character. Today, it’s his signature blue cane that produces the agricole rhum called Depaz, and it’s production represents only 3% of the world’s rum.

Eventually, Victor’s hard work paid off, and he successfully rebuilt the Depaz Estate to the brilliance it had historically known.

Nothing is, or can be added to an AOC designated rhum agricole, such as coloring or flavors. To further intensify the blue cane’s natural flavors, only oak barrel aging is permitted.

The rhum is aged in special small, charred oak casks, for at least three years, which we were told infused  “attractive” barrel wood, and mountain air aromas into the finished product. Aged rum from Martinique is among the most highly regarded in the world.

With our lesson over, we wandered on, past a huge water wheel and up to the sprawling manor house. Sitting high atop a hill, the views back down toward the Caribbean were amazing.

Once inside, Scott admired the large study, with it’s antique furniture and “mature” smells. He took note of the details, planning a similar room in his future.

Outside, the rear of the manor house was just as grand, and the surrounding landscape just as beautiful.

Of course, no day of rum would be complete without  a tasting, so after roaming the grounds and manor house, we headed for the tasting area of the visitor’s center.

Depaz rum comes in bottles of all sizes and styles. I found this colorful photo online:

We tried several of the rums offered (well, Scott did), and learned about  Ti’ Punch, the national cocktail of Martinique. It’s extremely popular in the French islands of the West Indies, including Guadeloupe and Haiti. The name is taken from the Creole, Petit Punch, and has been abbreviated over the years down to Ti’ Punch. The cocktail is created by adding a large amount rhum agricole (ick), with a touch of fresh lime juice and a splash of cane syrup. “Purists” agree that a real ti’ Punch should be served without ice..bleh. This cocktail was much too “flavorful,” shall we say, for me. (Another online photo)

Making ti Punch calls for a unique type of swizzle stick, made from and named after a perennial tree called the bois lele, which is native to the region. Its branches have a unique end, that spreads out into five separate, small sections (More online help).

Image result for bois lele tree

Image result for ti punch lele

Image result for ti punch lele

The “lele” is used to dissolve all of the cocktail’s ingredients. A bartender uses two hands on the stick, rolling it between his palms, similar to starting a fire, when mixing.

Image result for how to make ti punch

Ti’ Punch is usually served before meals as an aperitif, due its high alcoholic content. There is a tradition known as “chacun prepare sa propre mort” which roughly translates to, “each prepares his own death.” The bartender or the host will lay out the ti punch ingredients, and drinkers will prepare the cocktail to their own taste.

Having had our fill of all things rum for the day, we walked back to town, making our way back to the dinghy along the waterfront promenade, admiring it’s quirky shops and homes, while Sea Life waited quietly for us in the distance.

Here are more photos.

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

 

Bon Jour, Saint Pierre, Martinique!!

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After a month in Virginia, Mom was healing like a champ in rehab, and Dad had food in the freezer. It was time for me to head back to St. Thomas, where Scott and I would point Sea Life toward Grenada, where Sea Life would spend hurricane season.

Soon after I returned, the wind forecast was favorable for an almost three day leg to Martinique (a hop, skip and a jump, after the hellish 6.5 days from Cartagena to Puerto Rico…ugh!). After two over-nights, and zeroing in on hour 50, we caught sight of the beautiful, volcanic island.

We made our way down the coast, admiring the steep, deep green slopes, dotted with small villages and bright green fields.

Our destination was the small town of Saint Pierre, not far down Martinique’s west side. I found this great geographical map online, marking Saint Pierre, and also showing how  mountainous the island is.

Image result for map of martinique

We approached the quiet town, and anchored at the south end. Local children played in the sand on shore, and we had views of Mt Pele in the distance. In the evenings, the sounds of tree frogs in the hills just off shore was music to our ears. It was relaxing, peaceful and beautiful.

Howard immediately liked Saint Pierre, heading outside as soon as the motor shut off.

He and Scott spend time relaxing on the side deck, taking in the sights and “smells,”

 

Scott enjoyed a celebratory, end-of-passage/arriving-at-a-new-island cocktail, while Howard enjoyed a post-passage scratch on the dock lines hanging nearby.

Knowing that this doesn’t thrill Scott, Howard will look back, to see if there’s a reprimand coming.

Later, there was play time on Howard’s “jungle gym,” aka our inflatable dinghy. For one reason or another, and always on passages, the dinghy get’s stored on the side deck, and Howard cannot resist jumping up on it.

It is free for cruising boats to clear in and out of the French-owned islands…big plus; cheap wine, bread and pastries…even BIGGER plus! There are usually several locations on the islands (stores and shops) who have a computer on site, and cruisers just have to enter their boat information, etc. and click “print” for clearance papers. There is even an option of clearing in an out at the same time, if you enter your expected date of departure.

The morning after arriving, we went to a local restaurant  just a block from the town dinghy dock,  to use the clearance computer. With the online form in French, the obvious language barrier made filling in our information a bit challenging at times, but the owner happily helped us. He spoke English, and helped me better pronounce a few key phrases (most important: Please forgive me, I’m just learning, and my French is horrible!), and served us cold, Lorraine beer while we finished our check in form.

Now that we were official, it was time to wander through town a bit.

Scott was also thrilled to once again be able to buy Orangina (still another French island plus), which he’s come to love.

We learned that Saint Pierre used to be known as the “Paris of the Caribbean,” and was culturally and economically the most important city on the island. Unfortunately, this town has taken quite a beating over time.

A hurricane pummeled Martinique in 1780. Known as “The Great Hurricane,” it produced a storm surge of 25 feet, which inundated the city, destroying all houses and killing 9,000 people. The devastating storm is the deadliest Atlantic Hurricane on record. Between 20,000 and 22,000 people died throughout the Lesser Antilles Islands, when the storm passed through them from October 10th–16th of that year. Specifics on the hurricane’s track and strength are unknown, because the official Atlantic Hurricane database only goes back as far a 1851.

The town was destroyed again in 1902. when the volcano Mount Pelée erupted. It’s destruction dubbed the Mount Pele Eruption the worst volcanic disaster of the 20th century. The eruption killed approximately 30,000 people with a pyroclastic flow (a dense collection of fragments and gases, which is much more dangerous than a lava flow).

Mount Pelée sent a cloud of super-heated gas and dust racing toward the city. Within a single minute, the 1,075 degree pressure wave flattened nearly every building in the city of St. Pierre. Anyone unlucky enough to be in its way would have instantly caught fire and burned to death. Even those in shelters suffocated, as the super-heated wave burned up the oxygen and replaced it with deadly gases; lungs were incinerated from the inside, with even a single breath (gross).

 The deadly eruption completely destroyed the city of Saint-Pierre (which was, at that time, the largest city on the island), within minutes. Approximately 30,000 people were killed instantly; the entire population of the town, as well as people from neighboring villages who had taken refuge there for safety. The city burned for days afterward.

Before:

After:

Apparently, there was considerable eruptive activity in the two weeks prior to the fatal blast, but since pyroclastic flow was not yet understood, the danger was thought to be from lava flows. It was believed the lava would be stopped by two valleys between the volcano and the city.

The main eruption left only two survivors in the direct path of the flow: a prisoner in a poorly ventilated, dungeon-like jail cell, and a man living on the edge of the city, who escaped with severe burns.

Mount Pele is currently in a dormant state, but is registering seismic activity.

The city of Saint-Pierre was never fully restored to its former self. However, it is now referred to as a city of art and history.  There were many reminders of the eruption’s damage, as we walked the streets.

 

The cathedral in town was rebuilt after Mount Pele’s destruction, and the “new” cathedral looks much different.  Only its lower floor, spared by the pyroclastic flow, was preserved in the reconstruction.

The large cathedral was undergoing a current reconstruction when we visited.

We walked along an upper road, and came to the remains of the Theater of San Pierre.

Able to seat 800 people, we read that it was often booked to capacity, with plays ranging from classical to vaudeville, as well as operas. On evenings when there were productions, the stairs and entrance railings were crowded with vendors, selling oranges, pistachios and sweets. The theater also hosted political meetings, and even balls during carnival time.

Due to economic reasons, the theater was closed, just a year before the Mount Pele eruption. The staircase is still pretty well intact, offering views back out to the Caribbean, but not much remains of the great theater’s interior.

On the other side of the theater wall, and down the hill, are remains of the prison, and it’s cells.

On May 7, 1902, a day before the Mount Pele eruption, Louis Sylbaris, the town troublemaker, ended up in solitary confinement here. Since all records were destroyed, and all witnesses killed by the eruption, what Louis was being imprisoned for is a matter of speculation. He later said it was because of a fight, but the cell he was in would have been where someone accused of a more serious crime, such as murder, may have been held.

Trapped in his cell when the volcano erupted, Sylbaris felt the intense heat from the 1,000-plus degree pressure wave, as ash came flying in through the tiny slot in the door. Suffering from burns and desperate to cool down, he urinated on his clothes and stuffed them into the opening. It was just enough to save him, and four days later, rescuers freed him.

Having survived the worst volcanic disaster of the 20th century, Sylbaris became a celebrity, and toured the world with the Barnum & Bailey Circus. He was billed as “The only living object that survived in the ‘Silent City of Death.'” While the eruption was doomsday for the town of St Pierre, it may have been Loius Sylbaris’ savior.

We made our way back to the high road in town, to an overlook area with views of the sea. Fisherman cast lines off the docks below, to the north, and Sea Life was contently at anchor to the south.

Immediately below us…more of Mount Pele’s devastation.

Maritime commerce increased through the eighteenth century, and by the mid-century,  seven eighths of all the island’s trade came through St. Pierre, as well as that of St. Lucia, Guadeloupe, Dominica and Grenada. With such a high volume of commercial activity, there was a great need for warehouses and shops along the waterfront. As a result, Quartier du Figuier was developed.

Scott and I went down some steep, steep steps, to the road below, to get a closer look at the remains of the buildings.

Warehouses along the Quartier du Figuier held merchandise that had just been loaded off of ships, and also goods waiting to be loaded. Shops stocked items that ships traveling through may need, such as ropes, hoists, anchors, etc. Most of the buildings had upper stories, which were used for residences.

With a full day of wandering behind us, we stopped for a pizza to go, and enjoyed cold Lorraine beer while it cooked. Then it was back to Sea Life, traveling along the historic town’s shoreline, as we made our way in the dinghy.

Tomorrow’s plan…..a day of rum! Here are many more photos, of our stay in Saint Pierre.

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

 

Scott Explores St. John

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While I was away, Scott had roughly three weeks to explore, and was deciding what to do with his time: Stay in St. Thomas? Wander over to St. John? Venture as far as the British Virgins? With many variables in play, out came the paper charts.

Even though we navigate using both GPS and our iPad, Scott’s still an old-school, paper chart guy. We are lucky enough to have dear friends who spent more than ten years circumnavigating the globe. Kirk and Gisela graciously gifted us a stack of their charts (fyi, paper charts are not cheap!), and Scott often goes to them as an additional source of reference.

He pulled some of Kirk and Gisela’s charts of the British Virgin Islands. Their charts are full of notes about snorkeling and hiking spots, favorable anchorages and even pay phone locations (remember them). We always enjoy reading the notes, and comparing them with current guide books, and the surrounding area.

The British Virgins were tempting, especially in May and June, when they would be much less crowded than in winter’s high season. However, traveling there and getting back to St. Thomas in time for my return, with allowances for weather, may not give Scott much time to linger. The fees for the BVIs were more of a concern. He didn’t feel it was worth paying to clear in, and for nightly mooring ball fees, if it was just himself, and not both of us. With no clearance fees for a U.S. Virgins, and cheaper mooring balls (sometimes free), Scott decided to explore St. John instead.

Here are some interesting things I discovered about the U.S Virgin Islands, and St. John, on the good-old internet:

St John is actually a volcanic island, part of a undersea mountain range which includes the larger islands of the Greater Antilles, the Virgin Islands, and the Lesser Antilles. There is a clear geologic record that stretches back some 100 million years, and earliest stages of the island’s formation began when the major continents were closer together. The first stages took place underwater, and the first volcanic flows were later uplifted and exposed. The oldest exposed rocks of St John are still recognizable as separate flows.

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Saint John was first settled by the Taino Indians, who migrated north from coastal areas of present-day Colombia and Venezuela, around AD 300. The Arawak inhabited the island until around the year AD 1300, when they were driven off by the more aggressive and warlike Carib (who obviously later inspired a name for the now-popular Caribbean beer)!

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The first European to discover the Virgin Islands was Christopher Columbus, on his second voyage to the New World, in 1493. He first landed on St. Croix, which he named Santa Cruz. He then sailed further north, discovering many more islands. A Catholic, Columbus named the group of numerous islands as Once Mil Virgenes (Eleven Thousand Virgins), in honor of the feast day of Saint Ursula, and the 11,000 virgins who were martyred with her.

Although Columbus was the first to discover the islands, the first Europeans to settle the virgins were the Danish. In 1671, Denmark clearly ruled St. Thomas, establishing the first permanent settlement there. By 1718, Denmark’s settlements expanded to St. John (They are credited with naming the island, in Danish: Sankt Jan), and in 1733, Denmark purchased St. Croix from France, uniting the three Virgin Islands.

Because the island provided perfect conditions for growing sugar cane (intense heat and fertile soil), sugar plantations were soon abundant throughout St. John, with slave labor being shipped in from Africa. The local Carib and Arawak populations were also enslaved, to the point of extinction.

Related image

Related image

In 1917, during the First World War, the United States purchased the Virgin Islands for $25 million dollars from the Danish government in order to establish a naval base. Their intent was to prevent expansion of the German Empire into the Western Hemisphere. As part of the negotiations for this deal, the U.S. agreed to recognize Denmark’s claim to Greenland, which they had previously disputed. The U.S. Virgin Islands are an organized, unincorporated territory of the United States, which means its residents are U.S. citizens, but they cannot vote in presidential elections.

More than 5,000 acres on St. John, about half of the island, is preserved and protected by the Virgin Islands National Park Service.

Laurance Rockefeller, John D. Rockefeller’s son, visited the U.S. Virgin Islands by cruise ship in the 1950s. So moved by the island chain’s incredible beauty, he promptly purchased 5,000 acres on the island of St. John.

Rockefeller began construction of a resort on Caneel Bay, and in 1955, began developing an infrastructure on the island to provide the resort with power, fresh water and roads.

Photo of LSR at Caneel Bay

 

 

 

 

 

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He oversaw every detail of the development personally, and then in 1956, donated the land to the National Park Service, with the contingency that the land never be developed.

Image result for laurance rockefeller's virgin islands national park

Ok, ok….back to Scott.  He and Howard made the half day trip, around St. Thomas and over to St. John, and the anchored in Maho Bay, on the island’s northeast side. Along the way, views of massive houses; once there, a beautiful sunset.

From there, he headed around the eastern end of island, to Round Bay. While there, he visited Angel’s Rest Bar, run by Capt’n Peter.

On most days, the bar travels from it’s home in Coral bay, around to an area called Hurricane Hole Bay. Anchoring off of different beaches, it opens for business and patrons swim out to buy drinks and spend time (scary, when you consider that they have to swim back, after said time). The bar offers two things: a cup of beer, or a cup of rum with a splash of punch, each for $5.00. The bar closes when Capt’n Peter gets too drunk, or the alcohol runs out, whichever comes first.

Next, Scott headed to Little Lameshur Bay, on the south side of St. John, for some hiking.

He planned to walk  around to Reef Bay, and do the Reef Bay hiking trail (fyi, Caribbean Travel and Life Magazine lists the 2.5 mile trail on St. John as one of the 10 best hikes in the Caribbean). The path to Reef Bay took him past several ruins, and offered scenic water views.

He also passed a wall constructed of rock and brain coral. This coral was very useful as a building material, as it could be easily cut when still wet to fit into unusually-shaped areas. It was then put in the sun to dry, where it would harden.

Although very green, Scott was surprised how arid St. John was, as he passed by many large cactus plants along his way. Since leaving Mexico, in March of 2016, we’ve been surrounded by wet, tropical foliage.

Eventually, he came to Reef Bay, and the ruins of the Reef Bay Estate House.

The house was built in 1832, and reconstructed in 1844. In 1994, it was partially renovated by the National Park Service. After being cleared in 2009, the historic estate house has been left to deteriorate.

Next, Scott came upon the famous St. John  petroglyphs, They are rock carvings made by the Taino Indians, as early as 500 AD. The petroglyphs depict faces and symbols, and are situated along the edge of a spring-fed pool. The pool level never changes, so the carvings are always perfectly reflected in the water.

Scott passed many field stone walls, and wild pineapple. The plants thorny leaves made for good use as barrier hedges and living pasture fences.

Finally, Scott came to the ruins of the Reef Bay Sugar Mill.

The sugar mill industry died twice on St. John. In plantation days, slaves brought bundles of cane to the horse mill to be crushed.

Sugar mill

After Denmark abolished slavery, and St. John’s other mills began to collapse, Reef Bay’s new owners tried to revive the dying industry by installing steam power to crush the cane (the first of its kind). This one was built in Glasgow Scotland, in 1861, and is in surprisingly well intact.

By the early 1900s, a depletion in soil nutrients from sugar cane overgrowth, in addition to the introduction of the sugar beet in Europe, led to a decline in St. John’s sugar production. Reef Bay was the last operating sugar mill on the island, and most of the property was sold to Rockefeller’s conservation project in 1955.

Scott enjoyed more views of Reef Bay, before heading back to Sea Life, moored in Lameshur Bay.

Next stop, Caneel Bay, with more views of huge houses, and a sunset overlooking the British Virgin Islands.

While moored in Caneel Bay, off of the famous Caneel Bay Resort, Scott noticed the beach tightly lined with lounge chairs…not a normal sight. With a lazy day in the sun already planned, Scott set his chair in the sand, and then wandered down the beach for a look-see.

As he neared the resort, it became clear that each lounge chair had it’s own snorkel gear, towel and logo-ed tote bag. People were milling about, and as Scott chatted with one or two of the guests, he learned that there was a company function going on; a pharmaceutical company was celebrating the release of a new drug.

On his way back through the throng of lounge chairs, Scott was stopped by a server, who offer him a drink. He politely declined…until the third offer; after that, it was open season. Several cocktails later, a server came over to announce that lunch was being served in the nearby tent…excellent! Scott helped himself to a plateful of food, and then returned later, through the back of the tent, for seconds.

Wanting to preserve good karma, Scott “paid it forward,” by sharing the intel on how to gain a free lunch with a young, budget-challenged-looking couple who’d set up camp on the beach near him. Feeling that he’d kept his good karma intact, Scott headed back to Sea Life with a belly full of free food and drink, and enjoyed a post party-crashing nap. A satisfying day all around.

Over the next day or so, Scott saw many turtles moored, and hiked up the island for a stunning views of Caneel Bay, the resort below, and the Brisith Virgins off in the distance.

And of course…Sea Life moored below.

By now, Scott had circumnavigated, and conquered, the island. He enjoyed one last St. John sunset, and then made his way back to St. Thomas. I was flying back from the states, and it was time to set Sea Life on a path to Grenada.

Here are many more photos, Scott’s time in St. John.

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

 

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

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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

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** 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!”

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

/ kk42sealife / 3 Comments

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

/ kk42sealife / 16 Comments

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!”

 

Eastern Caribbean…Here We Come!

/ kk42sealife / 3 Comments

Our month in Cartagena flew by, and we were preparing to head for the Eastern Caribbean. There is no good way to travel east. The trade winds run from east to west, which means traveling into the wind. A head sea is no one’s favorite direction, whether you’re sailing, or motoring.

Getting out of Cartagena, or should I say away from Colombia, is especially challenging. There is an almost constant low pressure down here, which causes the wind to howl, especially at night. Sustained thirty knot winds are a regular occurrence; not good when you prefer a threshold of fifteen.

The most obvious route is to travel off the coast of Colombia, round a “bump-out” of land near the Venezuelan border, and head for the ABC islands (Aruba, Bonaire and Curacao). Winds are most vicious off of the bump-out, and we’re leery to travel anywhere near Venezuela. Six days of a full-on head sea is also a negative.

So after much consideration, we’ve decided to do more of a “tight reach,” to use a sailing term, or head in a diagonal direction up to Puerto Rico. This plan keeps us from traveling in a full-on head sea the entire way, and fingers crossed, gives us a better ride.

After watching and waiting for good weather, winds are predicted to calm over the next few days, giving us the best conditions we’re going to get for the next 14 – 21 days. Our plan is to follow the coast for a bit, to stay out of a current, before turning toward Puerto Rico.

This will by no means be a calm trip, even though the winds are down. Our first and last 24 hours are expected to be  uncomfortable, but we’re hoping that the middle will be better.

The run to Puerto Rico will be our longest to date, and should take six days; I hope we’re all up for this. We have several friends who are currently crossing the Pacific, so it could be worse for me (and Howard).

Even though this passage is going to be a bear, we are so glad to have spent time in Cartagena. The city is beautiful and vibrant, with much to see and do. Safety was never a concern for us, and we walked everywhere with ease. The entire area was incredibly clean for a large city (aside from the treacherous sidewalks!), and everyone we encountered was friendly and helpful. As usual, we’d have liked more time here, but hurricane season is coming, and we have to be in Grenada by the first of July, so Puerto Rico here we come!

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

 

Howard’s Cartagena Vet Visit

/ kk42sealife / 3 Comments

Howard was coming due for his yearly rabies vaccine. Few animals enjoy vet visits, but instead of being quietly terrified (as my last two female cats were), Howard is very “sassy.” He has a Caution sticker on his file at home, and the older and stronger he gets, the more “piss and vinegar” he spits out at a visit. If anything more than a quick vaccine is needed, we have to take him in for the day, to be put under anesthesia.

As we travel, vets and techs are always surprised at Howard’s size when he comes out of his carrier. At just under three years old, he’s 16lbs and very strong. In Roatan, the vet sprayed some pheromones in Howard’s direction, in an effort to calm him. I wanted to inform the poor vet that there weren’t enough pheromones in the building to calm Howard when he’s mad, and I was right. The vet only got half of the vaccine amount in, the rest going all over me and Howard’s fur. Knowing that Howard has no chance of catching rabies, half a shot didn’t concern me. All I wanted was that piece of paper showing a record of the vaccine for customs, which we got…for only $15.00!

Extra stresses, like dinghy and panga rides, and hot car and rooms only make vet visits while cruising worse, and after a terrible experience in Bocas del Toro, we now try to minimize things that will accentuate said “sass.” Cartagena seemed like a good place to get Howard his latest rabies vaccine: we were at a dock, so getting on-and-off the boat was easy; with the great exchange rate for our U.S. dollar in Colombia, the vet visit was affordable and cabs were cheap. There was a vet in the Manga neighborhood, not far from the marina. Scott and I went on a reconnaissance mission, and all seemed good, so I made an appointment.

On vet day, we loaded Howard into his carrier, walked him through the marina and out to the street to catch a cab. He stayed calm, and seemed to enjoy taking in all the smells as we walked. The short cab ride was air conditioned, and so was the vet’s office (both things were taken into account on the recon mission….a cool cat is a less stressed cat), so things were going along smoothly.

Our wait was short, and we were soon back in the exam room with the vet. He wasn’t fluent in English, but was very friendly. We managed to get Howard out of his carrier, vaccinated and back in before he hardly had a chance to hiss…excellent!

The vet suggested that Howard also have a vaccine for Feline Leukemia. Howard is never around other cats, to contract the disease, so I declined. After the rabies vaccine, the vet again stressed the Leukemia one. He even phoned his daughter, who spoke fluent English, and had her talk to me.

It wasn’t that I didn’t understand, I just didn’t want to put Howard through another vaccine. However, worried that a customs agent somewhere in the Eastern Caribbean may require it, I changed my mind. We pulled poor Howard back out of his carrier for vaccine number two….BAD idea.

Howard knew he was still at the vet, and coming back out of that carrier meant nothing good was going to happen. He came out growling (skipping hissing, and going right for growling), and fought hard as Scott tried to restrain him long enough for the vet to get the vaccine in. When the needle went into his skin, Howard lashed out at the nearest thing possible; unfortunately, the nearest thing was Scott’s hand, and he suffered another puncture wound to the hand.

Scott released our seethingly angry cat, and cleaned his hand in a nearby sink. The vet held up the half-full needle and looked at me, as if to imply that he wanted to inject the remainder. Fat chance! We’d all had enough drama and stress for one day.

I blamed myself for not leaving well enough alone. We’d had the best ever vet visit going, and changing my mind had caused havoc. I should have known better, and felt terrible for both Scott and Howard. Howard only lashed out in fear and anger, trying to protect himself from perceived danger, not knowing that he was hurting Scott. Thankfully, this wound was nowhere near as serious as the bite Scott received in the San Blas, and it healed quickly.

So, I again walked away with half a dose of vaccine in my cat, and another updated record. Fingers crossed, we’re free of vet drama for another year and things are back to normal in Howard’s world.

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