HourGlass

Exploring Ao Phrang Nga

2011-09-11T21:34:00.025-05:00

The sky was overcast and grey, not very inspiring conditions for setting sail on a 120nm passage. As the weather dictates our daily life, ordinarily we would have chosen to stay put and wait for better conditions. However, our friends were planning to arrive in Phuket to visit us in one weeks time, and we had best be on our way to meet them. We had spent the last two weeks in Telaga harbor in Langkawi, painting our mast and varnishing the interior of our boat. The calm, flat water in Telaga harbor provides an excellent anchorage for doing boat projects. It is also quiet and peaceful and has a nice community of cruisers. The sail began with light variable winds punctuated by squalls. The squalls tended to come from the direction in which we were trying to go, so even the wind that they provided was not always very helpful. During a lull with no wind, we dropped sail. A slight current was pulling us backwards. We had seen various moorings in the middle of the sea in this area that were used by local fishing boats. We decided to turn on the motor and drive towards the closest one and wait either for wind or for the current to switch in our favor. We turned on the motor and put the engine in gear. We could hear a clicking sound and the boat was not moving forward. We opened the engine compartment and discovered that the transmission was not engaging into forward gear. After some experimenting, we discovered that the problem was not with the control cables, but was a problem with the transmission itself. Reverse worked fine. We would have to sail engineless to Phuket. We hoped that we would have enough wind to make it there before our friends arrived. The rest of the sail went something like this: No wind, current pulling us backwards, drop sail, drop lightweight anchor in 200 feet, and wait for wind. Wind would come after a few hours and we would raise sail and haul up the anchor. The wind would quickly turn into a squall from the direction we were trying to go. At times the wind and wind gusts would be too strong to make much forward progress. These strong winds would then be followed by good winds for sailing (the direction would usually switch to be more advantageous) but the rain would be hammering down. The rain was so intensely heavy, it was often difficult to see beyond Chandrika’s bow. In fact, it was difficult to see, period. During one such rain, Sue could barely keep her eyes open and probably should have donned a snorkeling mask. Afterwards, her eyes felt as if she had kept them open while swimming underwater.

another squall

We eventually arrived in Ao Chalong in Phuket, where we entered the harbor at night under sail. Not having an engine, we decided to drop two anchors (we put them in tandem on one chain) just to be on the safe side. It was a good thing we did. The next few days brought the heaviest weather seen in this part of the world in the last 20 years. The strong gale brought screaming winds and blinding rain. The rain was so heavy, we actually saw the crew of one dragging sailboat appear on deck wearing wet suits, masks and snorkels. Numerous boats drug anchor or severed their mooring lines, occasionally taking out the boats downwind of them. The boat of a friend of ours washed up on shore after two other boats piled on top of it, fortunately with no damage. Since we had anchored at night under sail, we were conveniently far away from many other boats. It would not have been easy to avoid an oncoming boat as our transmission was still not working. One morning while groggily trying to sleep in the bouncing Chandrika, Graham was awoken to a waterfall of ocean water pouring in through the forward hatch and straight onto his lap. Fortunately for Sue, the bouncing had made her need to pee, so she was conveniently not in the forward berth when Chandrika’s bow dipped under a wave, sending ocean water streaming down her decks, and through her forward hatch (which was closed but not latched!). Our friends, Claudine and Jeff, from the states were due to arrive in a couple days. We had been constantly water-logged for the past 2 weeks. All of our clothes and bed sheets were dirty and soaking wet, and our forward berth was now soaked with salt water. It didn’t look like we’d be able to get things to dry before they arrived to stay with us. More importantly, we did not have a working transmission, so through the gale, Graham and Sue (twice) took the transmission off the engine, put it in a dry bag, and rowed it over 1/2 a mile to shore to take it to a mechanics. The outboard engine was, of course, not working from the constant rain. Miraculously we managed to get the transmission working and the boat somewhat presentable by the time our friends arrived. We had an excellent visit with our friends. We explored ocean caves, relaxed on beaches and in lagoons, rock climbed and road motorcycles around the island of Koh Yao Noi. Hopefully they had fun and will come back to visit us again.

Exploring Phrang Nga Bay with Claudine and Jeff Jeff and Claudine trim the jib sail a beautiful lagoon at Koh Ko Du

Jeff kayaking at Koh Phanak

Claudine climbing at Koh Yao Noi

Riding around the island of Koh Yao Noi

March - April 2011

We took one more trip down to Langkawi. This time we painted our decks and while they were drying we enjoyed hiking and swimming in the river and its waterfall pools.

Slip and slide at the Seven Wells in Telaga Harbor

May - June 2011

For the southwest monsoon season, we decided to explore Phrang Nga Bay and climb at Koh Yao Noi and some of the surrounding islands. Phrang Nga Bay contains many tall rock islands and is inhabited predominantly by Muslim fishing communities. It is quiet and peaceful and the locals are friendly. There are many caves to explore and beautiful cliffs to climb.

the village of Baan Tha Khao on Koh Yao Noi

Fishermen from Koh Yao Noi

Finally we've discovered an easier way to open a drinking coconut!

Graham cooling down with a refreshing coconut at Ao Po Nui on Koh Yao Noi

the nearby island of Koh Roi

This natural archway leads from the sea into a large hong (or chamber)

inside the island on Koh Roi.

(The photo is looking out to sea from inside the hong.)

This tunnel leads through the rock to an opening 200 feet up a vertical cliff face,

where we rappeled down to the ground.

A cave along the edge of the water on the island of Koh Khlui.

A rubber tree plantation on Koh Yao Noi.

A shack where Burmese rubber tree collectors

press the rubber sap into matts,

which are used for making latex.

A Buddhist spirit house at the rubber tree plantation.

Tarzan swinging on the vines of a banyan tree.

hiking the trails on Koh Yao Noi

When we first arrived, Graham was leading a route at a climbing area called The Mitt. When he neared the top of the climb, the stalagtite he was holding broke. He took a 10-15 foot lead fall and swung into a nest of swarming bees. The nest was about 1 to 1-1/2 cubic feet in volume and was completely covered with bees lying on top of bees on top of bees. Graham was flailing around and screaming as a massive cloud of bees surrounded him. Unfortunately he was wearing nothing but a pair of small running shorts. Sue lowered him to the ground and began swatting the bees off of him. She managed to escape with only 20 stings. Graham, however, was not so fortunate. He was stung over 200 times, with 100 of those stings being just on his face and neck alone. Unfortunately, the climbing area was not right on the water but was deep in the jungle. Any attempt to escape and hike out only agitated the bees causing them to attack and sting again. We hovered and waited for about one hour for the bees to calm down before attempting our escape. We had anti-histamines with us in our pack (and an epi pen which we fortunately did not need). Leaving our gear up at the cliff, we hiked out and Graham visited the local clinic for an anti-histamine injection. That night, Graham had a low grade fever and was nauseated. It took about 10 days for the swelling to go down enough for Graham to be able to smile using both sides of his face and for the purple dots to fade away into scars. Other than our bee experience, the climbing has been excellent.

July - September 2011

Climbing on the Phrang Nga Peninsula

2011-04-19T06:19:00.023-05:00

On our next Thailand trip, we chose to explore the southern tip of the Phrang Nga peninsula, near the city of Krabi. This area has over 800 climbing routes and is the world-class climbing area that attracts hundreds of climbers every year from all over the world. The climbing is generally quite steep. Most routes are single pitch, but there are many multi-pitch routes as well (usually around 4 or 5 pitches long). We discovered that once above the first pitch, the crowds would disappear and we would have the climbing to ourselves. Most of the climbs are near the beach (Ton Sai and Railey beaches) and a few of them are directly out of the water, making it an excellent place to climb via sailboat/ dinghy.

Our first multi-pitch in this area was to climb "Orange Chandeliers" on Ao Nang Tower.

Ao Nang Tower

We raised the dinghy to keep it from banging on the rocks while we climbed.

Sue at the belay at the start of the climb.

Graham on "Orange Chandeliers"

We also climbed three different multi-pitch routes on Cat Wall named "Heart of Darkness", "Mussong" and "The Ninth Life."

The view from Cat Wall of Railey Beach and the Southern tip of the Phrang Nga Peninsula

Graham leads through a STEEP overhang on "The Ninth Life".

Graham trying to fit his oversized body through the tunnel on "Mussong"

with about 250 feet of air below.

We also visited a nearby island and enjoyed some fabulous single pitch routes in a beautifully serene setting.

Graham finds a rest on the overhanging "Hang Whitey".

Leaving the cave

Sue on "Roy Raeng"

During this time period, we have made a few improvements. While we have been happily content to row for the last 3+ years, the combination of climbing and rowing was exhausting. We have purchased a used 3.5hp Nissan outboard engine. We now also have internet aboard Chandrika while in Thai waters as long as we are within range of cell phone towers. On our climbing rest days we also putter about the boat and work on boat projects. We have recently painted our boom and our aluminum hatches.

Cooking Thai food in the galley aboard Chandrika

photo by James Pullum

Carrying the dinghy up above the high tide line.

Photo by James Pullum

While at Ton Sai and Railey beaches, we had the good fortune of meeting Sam Lightner and Liz Wattenberg from Moab, Utah and James Pullum and Laurel Graefe from Atlanta, Georgia. We spent two weeks climbing with them and spending every evening sitting on Railey beach watching the sunset. We will always cherish the memories of “sunset” on the beach.

Eating lunch at the base of Thaiwand Wall,

where we met Sam and Liz.

photo by James Pullum

Sue belays Laurel on pitch 2 of "Circus Oz" on Thaiwand Wall.

photo by James Pullum

Sue on "Organ Grinder" on the Thaiwand Wall.

photo by Laurel Graefe

Drinking coconuts on Railey Beach before sunset From left to right: Sam, Liz, James, Laurel and Graham

Sunset

It is general practice all over the world to place fixed stainless steel bolts on climbs that can not be protected with natural, removable protection. However, in the 90s it was discovered that the stainless steel bolts that were being used in Thailand were corroding very quickly (sometimes becoming unsafe within 6 months of being placed). These bolts would occasionally rip out of the rock, when a climber would fall on them, sometimes leading in serious injury to the climber. The problem is the corrosive marine environment in conjuction with the high magnesium content of the karst limestone rock. After a bit of experimentation, it was discovered that Titanuim glue-in bolts were far superior in terms of longevity than stainless steel ones.

View from Thaiwand Wall

In the foreground is a stainless steel expansion bolt,

which has been replaced by Sam with a titanium bolt glued-in with a two-part epoxy.

photo by Liz Wattenberg

Our friend, Sam Lightner, has been climbing in Thailand for over 20 years and has established many of the rock climbs in the area. While we were in Railey, he was rebolting a number of routes with Titanium bolts to make them safer for climbers. Sam and a number of other climbers have spearheaded a rebolting project, called the Thaitanium Project, with the goal of rebolting the climbing routes on the Phrang Nga peninsula with Titanium bolts. The problem is that the Titanium bolts cost significantly more than regular stainless steel bolts. To learn more about this problem or if you would like to contribute to making climbing in Thailand safer (and thus making us safer by extension), you can make a donation to the Thaitanium Project by visiting http://thaitaniumproject.com/ January – February 2011

Langkawi, Malaysia

2011-04-13T20:34:00.012-05:00

The time was up on our Thai visa, so we headed to the island of Langkawi, Malaysia. We anchored Chandrika up a river on the north east side of the island. Every morning, we would awake in flat water to a view of lush green river banks and to the sounds of sparrows. Squeak was in heaven. Rowing up the river we explored nearby beaches, a cave full of bats (that formed an archway over the river), and viewed the abundant wildlife. We saw Monitor Lizards (similar to the Komodo Dragon), Crab-eating Macaques, Spectacled Languars, and two different kinds of sea eagles (Brahmini Kites and White-Bellied Sea Eagles). Various tour boats would run wild-life viewing trips along the river. We would watch the eagles feed as the tour boat operators threw chicken skins in the water to entertain their clients. The considerate Malaysian boat drivers would slow down as they passed our dinghy, so as not to kick up wake.

Spectacled Languar

Crab-eating (Coke-drinking) Macaque

photo taken in Thailand by James Pullum

Eagle Feeding

Water Buffalo Crossing

After our river exploration, we brought Chandrika to the town of Kuah. It was nice to stretch our legs and to explore more of the island by bicycle. Kuah also served as a nice place to provision with food and to buy a few odds and ends for the boat.

Next we headed to the large city of Penang, about 60nm from Langkawi. Our stay in Penang was brief. We applied for Thai visas at the Thai embassy while we waited for our chain and anchor to be re-galvanized by a galvanization company. In the mean time, we enjoyed the culture of Penang and visited a number of both Chinese, Thai and Burmese Buddhist temples.

Our sail back to Langkawi from Penang was fast with 15 knots abeam the entire way and calm seas. We caught a 3 foot Spanish Mackeral (which looked just like a Wahoo). When we arrived in Tulaga Harbor on the west side of Langkawi, we cut up the fish and offered pieces to a couple of cruisers nearby. The sailors we met were shocked that we had caught a fish. The waters in Thailand and Malaysia are so overfished that these sailors had never heard of a sailboat catching a fish before in this area. I guess we were lucky, because we have yet to catch another fish.

Tulaga is beautiful. Again Squeak was in heaven. Every morning, he would salivate while watching the fluttering sparrows gather on the nearby abandoned sailboats in the anchorage. We would awake at dawn listening to his little paws scampering around the deck with excited glee. Tulaga (which means “Well” in Malay) has a number of beautiful steep jungle hikes, cascading waterfalls, and 7 wells along the river. One of our hikes took us up a concrete stairwell through the jungle, to the top of Mount Chinchang (the second highest peak in Langkawi). One can also ride a cable car to the top, but we found that the hike made the view more rewarding. At the top, we bought ice creams and then rode the cable car back down to save the knees. Another hike brought us to a gorgeous crystal clear swimming hole right in the middle of a waterfall. On our hikes, we again saw abundant wildlife, such as monkeys, lizards, hornbills, and a few leeches that were clinging to our ankles.

Graham having too much fun

View of our previous day's hike to the cable car summit

Crystal clear fresh water swimming hole

Nothing beats a cool swim in the tropics

During our time in Tulaga harbor, we discovered a much simpler and safer method for climbing coconut trees. We now will gather about 20 green coconuts at a time. The green coconut water makes for a refreshing electrolyte drink after a sweaty day of hiking or climbing.

Tropical Aid Climbing

We look forward to seeing more of Langkawi on our next visit and to exploring its neighboring islands. November – December 2010

Climbing Again At Last

2011-03-02T02:25:00.000-05:00

It feels good to be pursuing our passion for rock climbing again. Thailand is home to some of the world’s best rock climbing. The steep karst limestone formations jutting up off the beach make for a beautiful playground right in our own backyard. Upon our arrival to Thailand in late September, we traveled to Koh Phi Phi Don. Our initial impression was one of disgust at the over-crowded tourist scene. Motor boats driven by testosterone-filled unlicensed teenage boys zipped around the anchorage kicking up massive wakes that sent any un-stowed items aboard Chandrika flying about. The boats did not even slow down as they wove around the heads of snorkeling sun-burnt tourists. Fortunately for us, the tourists did not venture as far as the crags, and we had the climbing almost to ourselves. Occasionally, the friendly Thai guides would bring a few clients out for a half day of climbing, but otherwise there was no one else on the rock. One day while climbing at Drinking Wall, we foolishly rappelled off an overhanging route straight into the jungle. We landed in prickly thorn bushes. While clambering back to the trail with thorns up to our necks, we were viciously attacked by hoards of red ants. Once one bites, they all bite together in unison. The pain is intense. Even when you squash them, severing their heads from their bodies, their heads continue biting. After jungle swimming back to the trail and cleaning the ants off our bodies, we went to pull down the rope and saw a highway of ants streaming up and down it. We pulled the rope down using Graham’s T-shirt to clean the ants off the rope. The rope was now clean, but Graham’s shirt was swarming with the evil biting creatures. To rid ourselves of the ants for good, we lit the shirt on fire. We learned a valuable lesson and will never rappel straight into the bushes again. The other evil jungle creatures we encountered were the crab-eating macaque monkeys. Their horrible behavior directly correlates with the number of tourists in the area, as the tourists seem to think it fun to feed the little devils. This teaches the macaques that it is okay to steal food from people, rummage through their backpacks, toss stray items into the jungle, and create general havoc. It also teaches them to bite and to throw rocks at people when they do not get what they want. The macaques have been a problem throughout both Thailand and Malaysia. After Ko Phi Phi we stopped at the twin islands of Koh Lao Liang. The north island has about 50 established rock climbs. There is no development on the island aside from one small resort. Due to its remote location, few come here. It is quiet and peaceful with no boat traffic and the climbing is spectacular. October – November 2010

Phuket, Thailand

2011-03-02T02:18:00.003-05:00

Arriving in busy, industrialized Phuket, Thailand filled us with nostalgia for the quiet and friendly South Pacific. We were overwhelmed by the availability of virtually any commercially-produced product we could imagine. For a week, we stayed busy finding our way through the city and buying various odds and ends for the boat. We were anchored in Ao Chalong Bay with over 50 other sailboats, more boats than we had seen for the entire half year we were in the Solomon Islands and PNG combined. We didn’t know most of the cruisers here, but we did meet up with a couple of our single-hander guy friends we’d hung out with in French Polynesia. About half the boats in Ao Chalong are captained by male single-handers. We were soon to discover why.

The Anchorage at Ao Chalong

Our friends, who we’ve decided to name Bob and Fred to protect their privacy, invited us out drinking one night. Staying up past our bedtime (of 9pm) and sitting in loud smoky bars is not something we enjoy doing. However, Bob is not into hiking, and he was good sport enough to join us on a couple of steep strenuous hikes in the tropical heat of French Polynesia. We decided to adopt his positive attitude and join him on an outing that he enjoys. Our night on the town proved to be an enlightening experience into the Thai sex market. We had noticed the Thai hookers sitting at the bars up and down the road near the pier catering to Western men, but we did not realize that hookers are everywhere around here. You can even pick up a hooker at the corner mini-mart! Bob, our guide for the evening, informed us that the going rate for a hooker is 1000 Baht ($33 US) a night. If you take a girl home from the bar before closing time, then you must also pay the bar a 300 Baht fee ($10 US). Bob is trying to complete a circumnavigation but has spent all of his savings and is now living on credit cards. Since the whores do not negotiate a price before having sex, Bob discovered he could get away with only paying them 600 Baht ($20 US). They give him a disappointed face, but don’t say anything. He also waits until they are off work to avoid the bar fee. The Thai hookers in this area cater exclusively to Western men, or farang. Most dream that a farang will decide to marry them and their future will be blessed with financial stability. This does occasionally happen; although for the average sex worker, it is only a slight possibility. Most of the hookers speak limited English, but are very eager to learn to improve their chances. From other sailors, we’ve heard that the women are so eager to please that when you take them to your boat, after sleeping with you, they will clean and even polish the stainless steel! Needless to say, many of the single-handed sailors in Ao Chalong Bay have multiple Thai “girlfriends”. Our night began outside the local mini-mart, where our friends Bob and Fred got drunk on cheap beer before heading to the bars (where beer is more expensive). Then we went to a bar, where we played pool. The bar was full of Thai hookers and single farang men. Sue noticed she was the only non-Thai non-hooker female in the entire bar. After this bar, Bob and Fred decided to venture down the street to a bar we have decided to name, The Crazy Bar. Again Sue was the only non-Thai non-hooker female in this bar too. Fred and Bob went off to dance with the young Thai hookers, while Graham and Sue sat on bar stools and talked with one of the Thai hookers, named Lek. Lek told us she was from Northern Thailand and had moved to Phuket about a month ago. (According to Bob, all the hookers say they have only been working for a month, so we are not sure if she was telling the truth.) Lek then taught Sue a few words of Thai. When we turned around to see what Bob and Fred were up to, we saw Fred with a long pool que between his legs and three young Thai hookers straddling the other end. The girls were gyrating their hips and laughing and giggling. Very good actresses. Then we looked to the other side of the bar and saw an older Thai hooker sitting in the lap of disgustingly over-weight man in his 50s. He was groping her, and she was just sitting there staring off into space with a mixed expression of boredom and disgust on her face. Sue must have looked disturbed, because Lek immediately asked her if she was okay and put her arm around her reassuringly. Lek is very sweet. Bob later explained to us that the hookers decide who they want to go home with. If they do not want to go with someone, they don’t have too, although the bar does expect them not to be too choosy. Most likely this means that the younger ones have a little more choice in the matter, but the older ones get stuck with the gross men, since they do need to make money after all. At this point we decided we’d had enough for the night, so we headed home after our first and last night in the Phuket red light district.

A Peaceful Sanctuary in Busy Phuket

October 2010

Solomons to Thailand

2011-03-02T01:56:00.007-05:00

Images of limestone cliffs with world-class rock-climbing right on the beach beaconed us. Between the Solomon Islands and the climbing of western peninsular Thailand, lay Papua New Guinea, Australia, Indonesia and Malaysia, and about 4300nm of sailing. For various reasons, we decided to bypass them all and sail direct. PNG? We already went and did not want to risk getting sick again. Australia? Too many quarantine regulations that we would be unable to meet, especially having a warm, fuzzy feline on board. Indonesia? Corrupt government officials are notorious for demanding bribes at every port, and the lengthy visa application requires 2-3 months of advanced planning and costs about $300 US, not counting the cost of bribes. No thanks! Malaysia? but….Thailand and world-class rock-climbing lies right next door. Why stop? Before departing we had to provision and to clear out with the authorities in Noro. Our first evening in Noro, Sue awoke with a paranoid feeling that an intruder had come aboard. She got up to investigate and discovered a teenaged boy in the process of boarding Chandrika astern. Despite his dubious intentions, he was quite pleasant and left when told to go away. He told us he was hungry and had come by for some “lollies.” (We had given some candies to a few local children earlier that day. Word sure does get around.) The following night, (the night before our early morning departure), we both awoke to a “thump” on the cabin top. We got up to investigate but found nothing amiss. Before falling back asleep, Sue heard some teens laughing in the distance. In the morning, we discovered the cause of the thump. A large terd, (from a pig perhaps?) lay on our cabin top. Either it had fallen out of the sky, or some mischievous teens had been up to their pranks. Gross! While we loved the Solomons and found most of the locals to be very loving and delightful, we’d had enough. It seemed like at every anchorage, there was someone causing trouble and who had a grudge against us. Well, we were ready to go. We had stocked up on stale (past expiration date) crackers, weevil-infested flour, limited short-grain rice (due to a shortage on the island), damp wheat cereal and Ramen noodles, the finest that the stores in Noro had to offer. Not wanting to purchase more than we needed because of the low quality, but also not wanting to run out of food on our long passage, we estimated amounts as best we could. We also still had canned foods aboard, like beans, spicy daal, sardines, tuna, tomatoes and peanut butter. We also bought some fresh squash and cucumbers at the market. It would have to do. Once outside the protected Solomon waters, the sail began with a boisterous beat into the heavy Pacific swell towards the Torres Strait, which lies between the North coast of Australia and the South coast of PNG. Once through the Torres Strait, we enjoyed about 2 weeks of idyllic sailing in the Arafura and Timor Seas. After being in the large swell and rough seas of the Pacific, the moderate seas and slight swell was delightful. A full moon, clear skies, dry air, lots of huge dolphins (or were they some type of whale?), and phosphorescence glistening in the water, added to the beauty of steady trade winds from abaft. Although the wind was light (only 10-15 knots) by our standards, the calmer seas allowed for excellent and fast sailing with the assymetrical spinnaker. Sailing does not get much better.

Our Sailing Companions in the Arafura Sea

Long-distance voyaging may sound like it is full of adventure, which it definitely is at times, but often it is incredibly boring. Our time was filled with lots of reading and various home-improvement projects. After 26 days, we entered the Lombok Strait between the Indonesian islands of Bali and Lombok. The strait is narrow and shallow and at this time of year a swift current races southwards. We were headed north. With moderate swell opposing the current, the waves stood up straight and steep. Fortunately, we had an excellent 20 knots abeam to help Chandrika battle the contrary current while the waves from behind lifted up her stern and crashed against her transom. We estimated we were moving 6 knots through the water, but the GPS showed we were only making 0.5 knots of speed over ground. Engine alone would not be able to battle this current. Not wanting to lull around in the strait long enough for the wind to die, we fired up the engine (still under sail) to give Chandrika another half knot of push. Wow! That’s strong current! We were glad we were at half moon and did not experience this pass on a spring tide. Once through the pass, the current subsided and the waves settled down. We were now in Indonesian waters and in Phase II of our voyage. These waters were packed with traffic and obstacles, necessitating a sharp eye while on watch. Both private and commercial fishing vessels, large container ships, ferries, tugs towing barges, and small motor boats, criss-crossed our bow and stern heading in every direction. Despite sailing for 3 years aboard Chandrika, we had hardly seen any other boat traffic since leaving Miami. There were also large offshore oil drilling rigs, fish traps made of 12 foot long floating stacks of bamboo (impossible to see at night), heaps of floating garbage and debris and huge submerged logs that all needed to be avoided. As we approached the equator, the winds became frustratingly light and our passage agonizingly slow. We layed ahull often, glad for the 0.5-1 knot of current carrying us in the right direction. We used the spinnaker frequently. On one occasion, after a squall had passed through, we were left with lumpy seas and little wind. Not sure if the seas were too rough and the winds too light for the spinnaker, we decided to give it a try. After raising it, we realized right away that it would not work. Reaching for the line to sock the assymetrical, Sue heard a huge tear of fabric. With dread, she turned around to see a large tear running down the entire leech of the spinnaker. The actual leech tape was stuck to a piece of rigging (a tang) on the mast. We would be unable to sock or drop the spinnaker without someone going aloft. “I’ll go get a harness.” The sentence was not even out of Sue’s mouth before Graham had shimmied up the mast to the second spreaders (about 30 feet above the deck with no harness, of course). With the swell, the top of the mast was swaying heavily from side to side. Graham clung on like a monkey while he quickly detached the spinnaker leech from the rigging. Sue pulled down the sock once Graham was back down safely on deck. We decided to anchor at the nearby island of Bawean for some sail sewing. In addition to the tear in our spinnaker, the sacrificial canvas covering for our jib was starting to detach. We spent two days repairing both sails. The repair of the assymetrical was quite challenging, but once completed, the sail looked as good as new. While we were anchored, we had a torrential downpour, the first rain we had encountered for the entire sail. We were happy to not be sailing in it, and we were even more happy to be able to top off our water supplies. Full of drinking water and with freshly repaired sails, we set off again. Our food supply, however, was starting to run low. We had plenty of beans and oats, but were running low on rice. We had no Indonesian currency. Not looking forward to another two weeks eating only beans and oats, Graham got an idea. One evening, just as the sun was setting, we floating around with the sails down, waiting for wind. We were only one mile away from a 60 foot long industrial fishing boat, blasting its blindingly-bright fishing lights. We motored closer and dropped the hook. Graham threw the dinghy in the water armed with a diving mask, a few fishing lures, and a switch-blade knife. He discovered that the boat had aboard about 30 fishermen from the Philippines, none of whom spoke English. Using sign language and waving a container of empty rice at the captain of the vessel, he made his message clear. The captain leaned over, grabbed the switch-blade knife, and sent one of his men to the galley for rice. We were given about 5 or 6 kilos of long-grain rice and a freshly caught fish. Squeak had a delightful passage. Except for the first few days while we were in the Pacific Ocean (before the Torres Strait), the seas were calm. Once inside Indonesia, the seas were dead flat. At times they were as calm as if we were at anchor. He got to snuggle with whoever was not on watch, meaning that he had 24 hours of constant snuggling. On one particularly hot breezeless afternoon, his snuggling was interrupted by a hoard of swallows that descended onto the boat. Hearing their chirping, Squeak hopped up and ran outside. As soon as he made it out on deck, he already had a bird in between his jaws. He’d killed it instantly. Since his prize was no longer moving, and therefore no longer of interest, he passed his attention back to the irresistible, chirping, fluttering flock of swallows. In one swipe he’d broken the neck of a second one, and then a third, and a fourth. Squeak! Stop! Enough! He was running around the deck, bounding, jumping and frolicking, killing one bird after another. The sun was scorching down. There was no wind, and the temp was somewhere in the mid-90s. When we finally managed to corral Squeak down below and away from the birds, we saw that he was hyperventilating, and his entire belly was dripping in sweat. Our snuggling little fur ball had turned into a mad killer, but he was probably having the happiest day of his entire life.

Squeak waits ready to strike.

Happy Cat

The ITCZ (Inter-tropical Convergence Zone) is a region were the SE trade winds from the Pacific meet with the westerly winds from the Indian Ocean. The region where these winds converge has very light fluky winds and a fair bit of squall activity, making for very difficult sailing. At this point in our journey, we were only averaging from 30 to 50 nautical miles a day. Painfully slow progress. During this time, the ITCZ crossed over us 9 times. It seemed like the horrible sailing winds would never end. Eventually, we reached Singapore. At this point, the wind was still not good, but it definitely improved, as we could now go between 50 and 70 nautical miles a day. Once in the Malacca Strait, we developed a new sailing tactic. The currents through the Malacca Strait are tidal. Half the day, the current would be in our favor sometimes reaching as high as 1-1/2 knots. The remaining half of the day, however, the current would be against us. If there was no wind during this time of day, we would drop a light anchor in about 100 to 200 feet of water to prevent ourselves from drifting backwards. This strategy was very effective for getting through the Malacca Strait. Once outside of the Malacca Strait, we encountered a decent sailing wind which carried us quickly to Phuket, Thailand, 56 days after having left from the Solomon Islands.

Light Wind Sailing

August – September 2010

Solo to the Solomons

2011-03-02T01:50:00.003-05:00

The sky was dark and gray. Strong winds blew from the northwest as the sky unleashed torrents of rain. I ran to the market for shelter. Listening to the tapping and hammering of rain on the tin roof above, I huddled and waited for Henry to arrive with the denatured alcohol Graham and I had ordered. “Two weeks,” Henry had said. Well now it was over two months and it had finally arrived from Port Moresby. Although the rain gave me a wet and inconvenient welcome back to Kokopo and the boat, I was glad to see that northwest monsoon season was still in full swing. It would provide favorable winds for my upcoming sail. After discovering that Graham had an abscess in his stomach, he had hopped on a plane to the US for treatment, and I had flown back to Kokopo from Port Moresby. Because we could not safely leave Chandrika unattended in Papua New Guinea (PNG) for very long, I would be sailing her to a marina in the Solomon Islands before flying to meet Graham in the US. It would take me a few days to ready the boat. I hoped the season would hold out until then. The NW monsoon season ends in a transitional period, lasting for a couple of months, during which there is virtually no wind, making for terrible sailing and a long dreary journey of motoring. I looked up to see Henry, wearing a friendly PNG smile. I hopped in his truck and we set off to the ATM so I could withdraw some money. Unfortunately the deluge had caused land slides, knocking out the power lines to town. The ATM was out of service and the bank was closed. The denatured alcohol cost 150 Kina, and I had only 60K. In typical PNG style, Henry told me I could have the denatured alcohol for 50K, leaving me with enough money for bus fare and a few small expenses. He told me that if the power came back on before I left town, then I could pay him the rest, but if not, then “No worries.” I knew he would be losing money on this deal. Melanesians, in general, are too nice to be savvy business people. Henry then told me that the road between Kokopo and Rabaul had been washed away, and the bus was taking a long detour and would no longer be passing near the bay where Chandrika was anchored. He offered to drive me home, along the detour and then back up the main (dirt) road from the other direction, a drive of 1 and 1/2 hours. Not wanting to walk into the night in the driving rain and muddy gunk, I took him up on his offer. Back at the boat, I was greeted by a desperately lonely kitty. The next couple days were spent readying Chandrika for the upcoming sail. I cleaned the slime and barnacles off her bottom and propeller, and surveyed the rig, steering and the engine. While checking the cooling system on the engine, I discovered that an arm had broken off the raw water impeller, so I replaced the impeller. Not wanting the broken arm to clog the cooling system, I disassembled the cooling system in search of the missing piece. The cap for the tube stack was stuck in place, and I was unable to remove it despite all of my efforts. Not wanting to break something by using too much force, I opted to leave well enough alone. Being along in the middle of nowhere with no other cruisers around, now was not the time to break something. I ran the engine hard, giving it a good trial, to ease my worries. I would run it in lower throttle underway. Having prepared the boat, provisioned with food and water, cleared out with the authorities and paid Henry, I raised the hook and set sails. The first 2-3 days were pleasant and reasonably uneventful. Other than a few squalls with fierce lightning, the wind was generally from the southeast at 10-15 knots. Even though it was coming from the direction that I wanted to go, at least I was sailing and not motoring. I could set the self-steering and sit back and relax. As I got further into the passage, however, I encountered a southwesterly current that at its strongest set at 1-1/2 to 2 knots. Then what I had been fearing, happened. The wind stopped. I still had over 200 nm to the Solomons. With such a strong current carrying me away from them, I did not want to lose miles by laying ahull and waiting for wind, so I turned on the engine. I motored all night and all the next day and night. There was not a breath of wind anywhere. Without wind, the self-steering gear could not drive the boat, so I was forced to hand-steer. I would drive until I was completely exhausted. Then I would turn off the engine for a brief nap. Since I still had current carrying me the wrong way, I made these stops very brief, 1-2 hours at most. With heavy eyelids, I would return to the noisy motor and the oppressive tropical heat and sun. From all directions, I saw the same view. Flat, featureless water, like a lake. Not a single ripple on its surface. The sky clear and cloudless. The sun baked down as the steady humming of the engine lulled my mind into a buzzing numbness of boredom. Then, an alarm sounded. I quickly glanced at the engine control panel to see the oil pressure alarm light glowing red and the oil pressure gauge at zero. Knowing that a lack of oil pressure could fry the engine in seconds, I quickly threw the shifter into neutral and leapt to the control panel and shut off the engine. Quiet and stillness. I went down below. With the engine manual in one hand, I opened the engine compartment to investigate. Of all the potential causes shown in the manual, there were not many I was in a position to test. After a little exploring, I tested the engine a few more times. Again the oil pressure gauge read zero. The manual stated that this problem could arise if the engine overheated. Although the engine temperature gauge was not reading high, I was worried that the broken impeller arm was causing problems. Several times I disassembled and reassembled the cooling system and tried running the engine again. On one attempt, in addition to there being zero oil pressure, salt water sprayed all over the engine, soaking the alternator. I washed the engine in fresh water, dried it, and sprayed it down with WD40 and attempted to close the leak. I was getting frustrated and while tightening a bolt, I heard a “Snap!” Woops! I’d broken the bronze bolt holding on the cap for the tube stack. Searching through our spare bolts, I realized that we did not have anything of the same size. Well! I guess I was really engineless now! I would have to sail. I assessed the situation. I had 109nm to go and 0.7 knots of current against me and no wind. Things were not in my favor, but at least I had plenty of fresh water and food. Although there was no wind, I did encounter the occasional squall. At first, I would reef the mainsail before the squall hit, but I soon realized I would lose precious time doing this. I could not sail as fast, I could not head into the wind as well (the squalls were almost always from the direction I was trying to go), and I lost time shaking out the reef. As long as the squall didn’t look too threatening, I began entering the squalls under full main and jib. The first 24 hours I covered a net distance of 5nm in the correct direction. This was going to be a lot of work. My hands were already blistered from raising and lowering sails so many times, handling wet halyards and sheets. At times when the wind was on the nose at 2-4 knots, I would tack back and forth, tracking at 180 degrees because of the contrary current. I would do this for hours hand-steering, just so I would not go backwards.

It took me 7 days of exhausting work with only 15 minute catnaps, but on April 16th at 05:30 am, I was only 5nm offshore from the Liapari marina. By 06:30am, I had made contact by VHF radio requesting a tow into the marina. Within 20 minutes, Noel and Levin from the marina came out in an aluminum skiff with outboard and towed me in. April 2010

A Walk Down Medical Lane

2010-05-20T15:40:00.009-05:00

Leaving Sue aboard Chandrika as well off as I could, I rowed ashore with the stripped, rusty-rimmed bicycle we’d bought two years prior from a bicycle mechanic in Belize. The clutch brakes work during the sometimes brief intervals when the chain stays on the spokes. Fortunately Duke of York Island, Papua New Guinea, is reasonably flat. The nearest medical facility is an hour’s bike ride for one of reasonable fitness. I biked hard, enjoying the physical exertion rarely experienced in the recent months of cruising. Coconut grove canopy flew by above my head as I passed many villagers making low incomes from copra production. Light road traffic consists of people on foot and buffalo pulled two wheel carts loaded with forty to fifty kilogram burlap bags of copra (dried coconut meat), which is then sold to both Australia and south east Asia for the production of soaps and other oil based products. Roads constructed during the reign of Queen Emma, as well as the later built World War II Japanese roads are of coral based gravel. Now over half a century later muddy potholes and ruts abound, flinging both myself and the rusty chain off kilter.

Armed with medications for malaria, worms, amoebas, and bacteria, and having paid an above average medical bill of $7, I returned to Chandrika ignoring the monsoon rains. A couple days passed and Sue had healed up from suspected moderate food poisoning when trouble came. My fever spiked to 104.2 as I lay on my back with abdominal pain. I had no appetite. My body shook from chills. My whole digestive track pulsated. Severe dysentery and diarrhea followed as I lost not just concerning amounts of blood and mucus, but what I now think was pieces of the two millimeter thick white walls lining my stomach and intestinal track. Two days on anti-malarial medications and antibiotics passed. It was getting worse. At 2:00 am Sue sailed us twenty miles to the city of Rabaul, East New Britain.

The town of Rabaul lies amidst the ash of this active volcano,

which was unusually quiet when this photo was taken .

Ash strewn from decades of volcanic activity preceding World War II, including two eruptions and an almost constant shower of ash most recently coming to a near stop around December, 2009, it’s a wonder people have stayed. On your car, on your clothes, in your lungs, through your windows, or blanketing your sailboat, the ash goes everywhere. After three months of sun, showers, and no ash, the mountainsides were blanketed with green grass brining a little more life to the land and the people. Has the volcano stopped for good? I have my doubts. Regardless of the hardships, or perhaps because of them, the people are as loving and altruistic as ever. My fever was now consistently below 102. I was slightly dehydrated after drinking rehydrating solution, slightly anemic, and perhaps my blood sugar was low as well. My body ached as I got out of the dinghy. A kind stranger drove us to the health center. I received the standard treatment with medicine for malaria, worms, amoebas, and bacteria. Glucose and saline IVs were also administered. Blood and mucus excretions from the walls of my GI track continued and worsened. My low grade fever continued to fluctuate. Neither time nor medicine had brought about healing. I was starting to get scared.

Nurses care for a patient inside Rabaul's town health center.

After just a couple visits to the health center I am no longer being charged. While treatment here cost pennies on the dollar, compared to first world medical costs, this is PNG where people are thoughtful and caring of others. A truly human component exists to almost all facets of life here. Free of charge we are kindly driven to the nearest hospital in the ambulance, a Toyota Landcruiser, with snorkel. Monsoon rains have eroded this ash strewn landscape due to lack of vegetation. The road soon parallels a river bed. Like a bite out of a sandwich half the road is missing in places where a vertical fifteen foot wall of volcanic sediment goes into the dried up river bed. Nature enforces drunk driving here.

A free ambulance ride takes me to Nonga General Hospital.

The hospital is sparse and slightly run down. Half the building is not utilized. It is clearly underfunded. It is March 17th and a week has passed and with blood and mucus increasing in the stools, it is time to have some tests done. Malaria is negative. Typhoid is negative. E. coli amoeba cysts are detected by microscopy. This is not the commonly known bacteria, but rather amoeba cysts called Entamoeba coli. I am put on more medications but we are not going to wait any longer. I need first world medicine. There are no cruisers around to look after Chandrika for the minimum two weeks we’ll be gone. We have a cat that needs to be watched as well. Our cruising permit expires in eleven days. We make one phone call to the friend of an acquaintance and all the logistics are solved. Within twenty four hours Chandrika is moved in front of a private estate where she will be watched over and the cat taken care of. We have reserved next day tickets to Cairns, Australia. We have a letter from immigration for our one way return flight to PNG and a one month extension on our cruising permit.

Nonga General Hospital

Amoeboid cysts are detected by microscopy.

First world medicine here I come!

We pass through Australian immigration and customs. “We are here for holiday” is all we need to say. I am even allowed to keep my few slices of bread, exhibiting far less stringent regulations than is pressed upon the incoming sailboat to Australian waters. Rather than skydiving, bungi-jumping, swimming with domesticated dolphins, and snorkeling amongst dead reef with all the other tourists, we head straight for Cairns Base Hospital emergency room. More tests are done. Blood tests reveal a high white blood cell count, including the presence of myelocytes and metamyelocytes (specific types of white blood cells), common with severe infection. My doctor, an intern, advises me to leave the emergency room, go off all medications, and let the pathogen run its course. Some patients never question a doctor’s advice. I’m not one of them so not desiring any more from his overpriced brain I walk out, a few hundred dollars poorer. Now intelligence varies from president to president just as it does from doctor to doctor and you can tell by the way they speak and respond to a given question, as well as their ability to analyze a situation and make sound decisions. We went to the 24 Medical Center to get further advice. She listened to the symptoms, made an analysis, and said it was good I ignored the intern. I was to continue on medication called Flagyl for amoebas but change antibiotics to Cipro. My fever, having been at about 101, broke just fourteen hours after starting on Cipro. It was now March 20th.

Some symptoms were improving but bureaucracy was limiting our ability to properly treat this illness. The Cairns Base Hospital did not allow me to see my own test results, the ones which took a few days, and so I had them requested through the more personable 24 Hour Medical Center. So kind was the 24 Hour Medical Center that the doctor signed a release form without payment of another consultation fee. Still further testing showed high enzyme levels in the liver, along with other concerns. An ultrasound of the liver was required. Medical fees were adding up. The earliest possible ultrasound was a week away. There are drugs in PNG for amoebas not available in the U.S. or Australia. I had learned the hard way that Cairns, though tropical, had little exposure to, and hence little expertise on, tropical diseases. This is where to go to treat heart disease and diabetes, amongst other first world diseases. A private hospital in Port Moresby, PNG, could schedule an ultrasound two days away. We flew to Port Moresby. Port Moresby is of great contrast to almost all else of PNG with higher standards of living, good paying jobs, professional public and private hospitals, and hotels starting at about $300 a night. Wait a minute, where the heck are we going to sleep? We can’t afford that! After all we were sleeping in our car under bridges in Florida when we were shopping for a sailboat. But this is not to say Port Moresby is a haven for those better acclimated to western culture. It’s a city with numerous unemployment-driven thieves running about, commonly referred to as raskols. Ask the majority of compassionate, genuinely concerned Papua New Guineans if a given street or area is safe and you will likely have a personal guide going out of their way to bring you safely to your destination.

Sue’s face lit up. Our friends from the village of Kabatarai (the Rock), on Duke of York Island have family in Port Moresby. Wantok in Pidgin means family or clan. If someone is wantok you love them and take care of them like family. To the village of Kabatarai, we had become wantok. We placed a phone call.

March 25th we walked outside the terminal to meet a woman and her family who had never seen our faces before. They took us in as wantok. In stark contrast to the self indulging, first world culture of Australia, it was pleasant to be back in PNG. Granted it’s not always easy to live and work a nine to five job with the multitude of other distractions, complications, and responsibilities that come along with it. I understand why even friends and family have been slightly reserved at times to lend a hand when I’ve been in need. Yet amongst these strangers I felt none of it. Their compassion to help us was absolutely genuine. For nine days, every day, we were driven to the hospital, pharmacy, grocery store, air port, internet café, bank, etc. Never once in their words, eyes, and actions did they show a lack of desire to help.

Hendrick drives us all over Port Moresby.

The ultrasound showed no abscess in my liver. I believe had I stayed in Australia the conclusion would be just that. Fortunately the technician decided to do some exploring. An abscess was found in my stomach. My left kidney appeared infected. White spots also appeared throughout my entire gastro intestinal track. The amoebas were gone and I hoped the sometimes resilient cysts (eggs) were gone as well. I stopped taking the Flagyl and time would tell. The bacteria was gone as well but with damage done, abscesses cause susceptibility to blood stream infection like an open wound in a mangrove swamp, so I stayed on Cipro.

It was March 31st. Sue soon flew back to Chandrika for a solo sail to the Solomon Islands, for long term storage at a marina. I flew back to the U.S. for potential surgery, long term lab tests, resting, and healing.

Amongst our housemates in Port Moresby were both the leader and a couple members of the KB Stone Band. Good music was abundant. Norman, a band member, was five years old when his parents divorced. He stayed with his mother. Girl children are more valuable than boy children in PNG because the women inherit the land. The young man his mother remarried had a capitalistic mind and soon gave her an ultimatum. The mother chose her new husband over Norman. Norman after moving in with his mother’s brother was not allowed to leave the property and conversing with other children was punished by twenty lashings. “By the time I was twelve I ran away. I had to leave. When I was found my uncle tied me up and kept me in a fifty five gallon drum so I couldn’t escape.” At the age of sixteen with a sixth grade education he ran away for good. “I stole what I needed to survive.” After being released from jail for the third time he finally found music. Playing with KB Stone has kept him strait and out of jail.

KB Stone practices below the house.

The KB Stone Band

Prevention of tropical diseases infecting the gastro intestinal track includes basic clean living but more importantly knowing that many preventative treatments such as bleach will not kill amoebas and some parasites in drinking water and is therefore not effective in cleaning local fruits and vegetables. If you question the cleanliness of food or water being kindly offered it is best to politely refuse.

Many lessons were learned about dealing with tropical diseases in underdeveloped countries like Papua New Guinea including the following:

1) Upon going to a doctor, request as many tests as possible. Most facilities have the ability to test specifically for Malaria, Typhoid, and Hepatitis. General blood tests are informative on what you are fighting. Also a microscopy will give fast conclusions on the presence of amoebas and cysts in stool samples. Fewer drugs are better for maintaining overall healthy immune and digestive systems.

2) Go to the best medical facility in your region. A doctor, who sees tropical disease patients daily, in my opinion, is more valuable than top notch facilities. Try to find both and don’t keep changing doctors.

3) An online subscription to medical information such as http://www.uptodate.com/ will help keep you better educated and on the healing track.

4) Cruisers are very often in a wilderness setting, defined as over an hour from professional medical treatment. A broad spectrum medical kit and the education to use it are important but should not delay actively seeking professional treatment. Time may be critical so don’t wait around.

I feel of all the lessons I could offer these people, my wantok, on how the rest of the world works it would bear little importance. In PNG there exists a culture that puts the caring of family, the development of friendships, and even a conversation with a stranger, above careers and financial security. I don’t know the limit of how far my wantok would go for me, but I don’t think I even came close. Perhaps they are wiser than they will ever know.

March 2010

PAPUA NEW GUINEA

2010-05-11T13:46:00.024-05:00

Papua New Guinea (PNG) is a country like no other. After clearing in the town of Kokopo, in East New Britain, we sailed 20nm to Duke of York Islands, northwest through the cut and southwest deeper into the bay. The water became flat as a lake, shimmering in the evening sun. Children ran to the shore screaming with joy, the momentum of excitement brought some clothed into the water. Dressed in ragged clothes with wild afros of blond, dark brown, and black hair, blessed with careless spirits, kind eyes, and huge smiles, we were overtaken by the scene. We waved back with huge smiles of our own but continued on to our planned anchorage deeper in the bay. We dropped the hook in front of Kabatarai, and received a similar welcome. We knew not the name of where we arrived, but did know of Kabatarai from the invitation we had received by the chief on the shores of Kokopo the previous day. By sheer luck alone we had arrived at the town we had half heartedly agreed to visit.

It was not long before we were visited by John (chief) and his wife Margaret, who gave a very warm welcome. The next day relaxing on the boat, taking care of both ourselves and Chandrika we soon discovered these were not people with whom we’d lack interaction. We changed the oil, cleaned up our home afloat, said hello and chatted with the less shy ones which typically correlated with how well English was spoken. The dirty oil was of course happily received and in no direct correlation what so ever had we already received what was to become an ever flowing stream of fresh fruits, potato, leafy greens, green beans, and so on. We went ashore, to be welcomed by a few adults, and stared at by perhaps 50 young children. After sitting down, and being social for a bit we were off, as promised the day before, guided by not only the chief’s sons, but a motley group of 20 teenage boys and young men, loaded with bush knives and heaps of local knowledge, into the forest to explore the old world war two Japanese long range firing canons, shelters, and integral caves dug by pick axes deep into the limestone rock. When headlamps were needed one ran back to get a coconut husk ember while others made fast work of dead palm fronds for torches.

Entrance to a WWII Japanese tunnel

Inside the tunnel, our local guides light the way

A WWII cannon aimed towards the sea

We explored through the scrub where many soldiers had once died and were fed wild nuts off the coast, all new to our taste buds. Half way through we stopped in the forest, sat atop freshly chopped banana leaves, and watched as the younger boys climbed the 60 foot tall coconut trees. With feet opposed side to side and hands opposed front to back, their bodies moved from the squat position to one almost standing upright while still maintaining a firm opposing grasp with both the hands and feet. In fact the only body surfaces to ever touch the sheer tree trunks were hands and feet, as the feet then quickly scrunched up in a three foot increment back into the squat position. Done by some in a fluent motion it looked natural, effortless, and almost identical to how an ape or primate would climb the same tree. For the less confident a one and one half foot loop of soft, fiberous, strong tree bark was placed under tension between the feet to help maintain grasp. Fresh green coconuts were thrown down and nature, combined with local assistance, provided exactly what the body needed. We headed down to the coast, eyed the rusty frame of a WWII jeep, and swung from a perch, vine to vine below the overhanging limestone cliff. The coconut husk ember had been saved as most smoked a single dried tobacco leaf rolled tightly with newspaper. No filters here.

The remains of a WWII jeep

Monkeying on the vines

Our final sight was the deep, cavernous sacred cave of Kabatarai. Stepping up the steep slime coated sea splashed rocks our eyes fell upon a perfectly circular one foot diameter level hueco like a skillet in the ledge. Within it, guarding the cave, perhaps, were two black and white striped sea snakes inter-coiled together. The snakes are in fact seen as a bad omen by the villagers. Women are not allowed to enter the sacred cave but without explanation an exception was made for Sue to approach the entrance. Within its greatest depths lay a depression partially filled in with sea tumbled coble stones where legend says the Japanese soldiers crawled in and died. Both of us and a few of our guides lay sick in bed just days later. The witch doctor came to our boat for treatment through drinking lime in the water, spreading it on our bodies, and a talk with the spirits. The witch doctor hypothesized that the spirit in the sacred cave had been angered by our presence and had made us sick. We sought treatment with western medicine in Rabaul, some 25nm distant, but no scientific explanation ever came to be. Returning to Kabatarai felt like returning home from a journey, back amongst family and friends. The energy of a place resonates through the air. Singing bounds from ones mouth to the hearts of others. Smiles are reflected from one face to another. Kind acts become common, enriching the lives of both the giver and the receiver. A society can operate on money based exchanges. Direct trades can also work and is perhaps a little more heart felt. Gifts or favors can be done and returned at a later date. Perhaps, however, at the top of the altruistic spectrum of societies are places like Kabatarai where not always, but most often, a gift is given with no expectation of return, and because everyone operates in this mindset indebtedness is rarely felt. This way of operating allowed us to quickly grow connected, enrich each others lives, and share a very genuine sense of happiness and love with much of this community. The packed dirt clearing had been swept. People began to gather in two distinct groups under opposing giant mango trees. Many men, especially elders wore sarongs and sat cross legged, topless on the earth, their skin leathery and weathered, yet erect in an upright posture. Toned bodies showed the product of over 70 years of a low stress, high exercise lifestyle. We sat with the bride’s family and other members of our village while the family of the groom gathered across from us. To the side lay an elegant assortment containing clusters of sweet and cooking bananas, bags of rice, a woven basket filled with potatoes, and huge stalks of fresh sugar cane. The crowd settled down into silence. Elders stood up, while making strong hand and arm gestures, they talked of the importance of tradition.

Members of the village gather together along with the bride's family.

An introduction and words of welcome

(note the ceremonial lime painted on the speaker's temple)

Shell money is traditional currency of exchange and is still used today, though mostly for bride ceremonies such as this one. A basket is carried towards our side containing 400 fathoms of shell money. One fathom equates to six feet and so it is that a six foot thin strand of cane is strung with about five hundred pieces of shell money and closed upon itself into a large loop. This fathom is worth five kina. Groups of ten are laid down before us to create four rows each ten long. Bows are made as these acts receive the highest of respect. The parents of the bride were being offered about $800US, a relatively low bride price considering that in other parts of the country brides can go for as much as 10 times this amount. The groom’s family also paid 2 fathoms (or $4US) in taxes to the local government.

The groom's family arrives with a basket full of shell money.

The shell money is laid before the elders of the bride's family.

(Each "loop" is 10 fathoms long, or 60 feet)

After receiving the shell money, the bride’s family reciprocated by giving the groom’s family 40 fathoms of shell money, as a gesture to show that they were happy with the agreed price and had received more than enough. The bride’s family also presented them with the huge assortment of bananas, rice, potatoes and other goods that they had brought to the ceremony, as a gesture of goodwill.

4 fathoms of sheel money are given to the groom's family,

along with loads of bananas, rice, sugar cane and other goodies.

The ceremony concluded with various speeches given by the village elders. These speeches were mostly given in Pidgin English. The topics varied from the importance of maintaining tradition to reminding couples not to use physical aggression to solve frustrations. We learned that on a neighboring island after a woman threw a potato at her husband’s head for his failure to catch any fish, the husband kicked his wife in the spleen, which ruptured and led to her immediate death. With official law enforcement being absent on this remote island, we doubt if the husband will ever face jail time. We witnessed only the 1st part of the bride ceremony. The second part will take place on another date, when the bride’s family will officially give the bride to the groom’s family along with pots, pans, building materials and other supplies that the young couple will need to build a home and raise a family. In modern times, couples also have a traditional Christian ceremony in a church. Most villages in Kabatarai consider themselves either Catholic or fundamentalist Evangelical, although widespread belief in spirits is still prevalent from the times before Christianity was adopted about 100 years ago. During our 2 month stay in Kabatarai, we developed many strong friendships. Communication was mostly in English, although occasionally locals would speak in Pidgin English while we responded in English. The languages are close enough that with a little practice one can mostly understand the other. PNG’s Pidgin English with its roots in English, German, and a variety of local languages is the universal language of the country. With some 1000 different native languages in PNG, the residents of Duke of York speak their own language with each village having its own dialect. While in Kabataria, we learned some of the basic words and phrases in their native tongue. For many English is their 3rd language. However, only those with a high school education (mostly men but some women as well) can speak it.

Lucy

Rose, in her early 20s and a single mother, would cook for us every time we walked past. Local cuisine consists primarily of sweet potatoes, cabbage, spinach-like greens, eggplant and bananas in various combinations, cooked in a coconut milk broth, or occasionally using a Ramen noodle seasoning packet. Villagers would also treat us to their fanciest and most expensive foods of coconut rice with canned sardines in tomato sauce or on occasion would cook a chicken for us.

Although Kabatarai is filled with kindness, we did experience some adversity. One night while we were fast asleep, an engineless fiberglass skiff (which usually takes an engine) was paddled silently to our boat by some villagers from a neighboring island. Our friend, Kit, from Kabatarai was out in his canoe fishing. Distrusting their intentions, Kit fired his slingshot, chasing them away. Another situation we encountered was with the local teens. They would come by our boat after school in canoes and also swimming in the water. We were distrustful but civil, until we realized that they were carving their names and writing things into our bottom paint under the water. We yelled and screamed at them, hoping that this would end the problem. One day we discovered that someone had written on the side of our hull (above the waterline) in permanent marker. We informed the chief, but without knowing who the culprit was, there was little that could be done. One day while relaxing in the shade on the beach with some villagers, we saw the teens swimming out to the boat with their goggles. Graham immediately rowed out and caught them in the act. The entire village came to the beach and began yelling at them from shore. Not having anywhere to flee, they swam to shore to receive their public shame and punishment. We watched as an old woman beat a 12 year old boy with a thick stick on his back and chest. We did not have any other problems again. Overall, however, we found the happiness and friendship of the children to be intoxicating. We saw the kind of openness and free-spirited nature, lost upon a parent’s first telling to not trust strangers. Their eyes were filled with loving kindness, or sometimes that deep and fearless gaze of curiosity, culturally non-prohibitive. With that less self-conscious nature, combined with an upbringing of love and community, came children every evening as darkness fell, singing songs in native tongue while paddling around and past our boat.

February - March 2010

From the Solomons to Papua New Guinea

2010-05-11T09:33:00.001-05:00

It would break the back of a snake following in our wake from the Solomon Islands to Papua New Guinea (PNG), but there’s more to it than that. Northwest monsoon season came out of hibernation a little late but with a roar this year. Hung over our shoulders, impeding unbiased and sound judgement, was a visa for PNG expiring soon. We huddled down and waited as it dumped dinghies and dinghies of water. One morning we found our dinghy still tied to the boat but fully submerged, saved by the built in flotation we had added. Overhead the wind whistled and screamed through the trees, while we lay in our protected bay receiving only a periodic 40+ knot gust. First you hear it and then it hits. Chandrika’s bow falls off lying abeam to the gust. Once the anchor chain is straight, she turns to face the wind. While trying to sleep, a half conscious mind has already asked, “Are we dragging?”. The squalls and wind kept coming while all local knowledge, books, and SSB weather forecasts, evaded the question, “How long will it last?” A hike to the top of the hill brought little additional insight and so, with the weather having lightened slightly, we headed out to sea. I curse all things that impede thy judgment! It started out with 15 – 20 knots on the nose. We had an open sea and were free to choose the most beneficial tack from which to forereach. Forereaching demands a lot of sail while heavy squalls demand very little. In fact, if we really wanted to, we could have run around like two chickens with our heads cut off, which we sometimes did. The dance went something like this: 15 – 20 knots forereaching with full main and jib. 0 – 5 knots and the sails are flogging, so we furl in the jib. Then, 10 knots from a different direction, but still on the nose, so out comes the jib. The wind increases to 15 – 20 knots again, which is great for forereaching, but we’re headed right towards a squall, so we put in one or two reefs in the main (to reduce the sail area). Now we don’t forereach so well, but it’s still okay with the jib. The wind keeps increasing to a wet 30 knots and it’s time to furl the jib and raise the staysail. Once over 40 knots, the staysail is dropped and we’re slightly forereaching and almost hove-to with just the main, waiting for the powerful gusts to subside and basically making no forward progress. This is depressing to the chickens, so once below 40 knots, the staysail is raised and then dropped 10 minutes later to bring out the jib. Now the chickens are tired, so the double reef stays in, as Chandrika beats into the waves and wind with the jib once more. Blackened sky surrounds and there’s plenty more dancing to come. After all, that was just one squall. As it would happen, the weather worsened and squalls became more frequent. The rain was heavy and filled our 5 gallon bucket in a mere 12 hours. As the seas built, Graham filled the ocean with bile, and Chandrika dove like a dolphin, filling her forward bilge with saltwater through the gaps into the chain locker. We rarely used the jib and were mostly trying to wait out the weather, with or without the staysail. At 10 pm, we were hove to with a lee shore and wind in the 40s to low 50s. The squall was not easing as we crept towards land we could not see through the blackened night sky. Due to an estimated 3 knots of current pulling us backwards and also closer to shore, we could not do much better with the engine assisting, so we turned around and ran, losing all precious miles gained, we could now control the boat and avoid land. This call was made in stressful conditions with the additional knowledge of a cyclone to the SW. We were bound NE for Bougaineville Strait so as to place Bougainville Island between us and the prevailing weather. Bougainville Strait is both a constriction between 100+ mile islands and where a 7000 meter trench shallows to 20-30 meters. Here contrasting ocean swell and current formed 15 foot waves standing strait up and breaking just on the top. Instinctively this felt suicidal but knowledge said otherwise and proved to be true. We had been warned, we had, that the wind was light, variable, on the nose, and hence it was only possible to motor to Papua New Guinea. As days of patient waiting and slow sailing had proved this was not enough to get us using our D-sail (sailor speak for diesel engine). “How are we doing on the GPS?” “Don’t even look at it. Lets play a game.” Our required daily mile quota was 50nm, thanks to the PNG visa but even that required some motoring. Still the weather was improving and motoring had been kept minimal. We had 20-25 knots and Chandrika was happy. Our port tack windward was getting worse so we went on a starboard tack. Now when your tracking over 180 degrees between tacks something is wrong. We tried to motor our westerly course but instead of the usual 4.5 knot speed we were creeping along at 0.5 knots. We cut south to escape such restriction conditions but only to find a slight ease to 2.5-3 knots of countercurrent. The motoring and motorsailing began and did not end until we made landfall a couple days later. Nature did well stacking her cards against a small sailboat. January 2010

Solomon Islands continued

2009-12-26T23:46:00.024-05:00

The winds are light to nonexistent. The current has it’s thoughts as to where we should go. We’re outside Honiara with northbound intentions and a west-southwest drift. When the wind does show itself, the desired Florida group is no longer practical and the sail is set for Savu. The art to sailing these waters is both patience and the ability to change our destination. Savo, a volcanic uplift lacking in bays served us fine in flat seas with it’s bounty of friendly villagers.

After expressing our desire to hike the volcano an elder appoints three teenage boys to show us the way. The boys hike barefoot over the sharp volcanic rock and rubble lacking concern on where the foot is placed at a speed to match ours with shoes. The closer we get to the heart of the volcano the hotter the stream gets to the point where our guides must keep their feet dry. The sulfur smell is intense. Steam spews out like small geysers upward and sideways from the canyon walls. Sulfur and calcite deposits cover the ground in natural crystallized formations. We only go as far as the canyon rim in the heart of the volcano. It is here one of our guides finds a megapode egg, difficult to find but easy to capture. The megapode nest is built on the ground and they utilize the warm earth, eliminating the need to lie on the eggs. Now due to human impact, the species’ population declines. About three times the size of a chicken egg with unusually large yolks, it took about 10 minutes to hard-boil in the small bubbling pool covered with leaves.

The sun is setting as a man approaches Chandrika in the motorized panga (small, open skiff powered by an outboard engine and used around the world). The chief, the over friendly drunk that he is, introduces himself as Patrick and boards Chandrika. His double shirt pockets as well as short pockets are stuffed with the unlabeled locally bottled drink of whiskey and coke in clear plastic 4 oz bottles, Saratonga.

Safely seated he states it is eminent that we come to the village for dinner and tradition dictates that he and his wife (meaning his wife) cook us a chicken. Well a drunk with good intentions is a drunk none-the-less. While his sons are watching the boat for security (note: our combination lock had been tinkered with while we were gone, although most likely with innocent intentions) we had something they managed to concoct on short notice with some sort of meat, or should we say blubber. The darkness of night made for a happy dog under the table, need we say more.

The next day with Patrick sober, a proper meal was prepared which was delicious. With good intentions always existing, we were sent away loaded with gifts from their garden and as the dance goes we made sure to not leave them empty handed before parting a day or two later.

The heart of the mountain

Patrick, his wife, and their adopted daughter

Our 3 young guides

The seas were flat, the sails were down. Our 3:00 am departure for only a 40 mile day sail had turned to night with the assistance of our ethical refusal to turn on the engine. Early morning hours brought with them 5 knots of wind and soon we entered Vulavu Harbor, Isla Isabel. The chief’s son greeted us and filled out a complete form, fulfilling his job and including us in the first Solomon Islands population census since 1999. This was followed by greetings from local teens and the Chief. “My job is to know who is here,” he said in official tone. We followed him to shore where he gave us coconuts to drink, he shared his family photo album with us, and he railed us asking for things like magazines, books, pictures, drugs to relieve pain “the red and blue ones”, alcohol, cigarettes, and when Graham was absent Sue was asked for Playboy magazines!

The next morning we returned to shore, armed with a Frisbee and a bottle of Ibuprofen. Not wanting to see the 67 year old perverted opportunist of a chief, we decided to visit the welcoming children and young adults we’d met the previous day. We took a walk to two neighboring villages guided by our new friends, Tom and Andrew both in their early 20’s, who educated us on which palms make good sitting mats, the Sago palm used for roofs, shrubs producing a lettuce type leaf for eating, the Noni fruits used for a hair growth formula, and numerous fruits and nuts on what often looked to us like just jungle forest.

Vulavu is stock full of beautiful happy people who are full of fun and playful energy. It did not take long to introduce Frisbee and soon draw in 10+ people learning the sport, not afraid of those initial embarrassing throws.

Exhaustion drew us back to Chandrika and of course 11+ dugout canoes worth of kids were drawn with us. An hours rest hiding down below in Chandrika and still they paddled circles around us so we jumped into the water and started playing with them. These kids would grab Chandrika’s rails, call out to squeak in the local dialect “pus pus pus”, plow into each other, roll their own canoes, and tip other people’s on purpose. They would stay sitting in a drowned dugout with a foot of bow and a head above water continuing to paddle. It was all smiles, all around, all the time.

Andrew knocks on the hull and it’s near midnight as we lay sound asleep. He has returned, as promised, with two types of lobster, a crab, and numerous fish from a night of fishing and diving. With an underwater flashlight on a moonless night the creatures are stunned and picked up effortlessly. We were happy to be awakened by this giving person from whom we accepted the lobster and crab but had to refuse his offer of fish as well. This was not a trade but just another act of human kindness.

We loved our stay in Vulavu even though on our last evening there we were told by the chief that a “meeting had been held by the high counsel” and we needed to leave. Gathered from his English/ Pijin combo was that their new policy allowed boats to only stay 48 hours and perhaps something to do with us not returning to see him. Though neither blue nor red (maybe he really wants the purple pill) he had managed to stop us, ignorant as he was, moments before giving him a bottle of Ibuprofen.

Regardless of the chief our last evening was filled with many children and one adult playing in canoes and water around Chandrika. We said goodnight and goodbye as the sun set and the children replied saying, “We love you Susan,” “Graham come back anytime.”

2 lobsters and a crab from Andrew

A beautiful sunset

Things go wild

Only a few of the lot

Dorothy sinks

Kids having fun

We are anchored at the town of Peava on the island of Ngatukai in the New Georgia group. 2 high school aged girls, best friends, Thelma and Carina, just came by with the most beautiful assortment of produce including over 20 green peppers, a papaya, a pineapple, a few giant snake beans, bananas, 2 coconuts ready to drink, green onion wrapped together with local foliage, and a bouquet of flowers with a pink ribbon all presented eloquently on two silver platters (not real silver, of course). Both Thelma and Carina are still in school which one must pay for after grade 9 at the most often prohibitively expensive rate of $800 USD per year. We invited them aboard, served them lemonade, and asked what they wanted for a gift. “We just wanted to feed you” and so returning only a superficial scrape to their deep kindness, they were given some hair clips, which is the sort of thing they just wouldn’t buy for themselves here.

We talked back and forth and showed them pictures of Graham’s family while giving them insight into Maine’s four seasons. Carina is half Taiwanese from her father, who lives in the city of Honiara. While Thelma’s family is mostly in Peava, she departs tomorrow to see her grandparents in Choiseul province, two days by boat, who she has not seen since the age of four. The visit was brief and we exchanged emails for future contact. We sincerely hope our eyes and smiles expressed our true appreciation.

This and the four girls in their dugout paddling on the water this evening while singing beautiful local songs provide a striking contrast to teens in the states, giving sarcasm its place when jokingly saying “all these teens do is drive around and get drunk.”

Carina and Thelma

Only one of the 2 trays!

This was a dance competition/ festival we had the honor of attending with our surfer friends on Gizo Island. Enjoy the pics.

Mike from the surfer boat joins for the male dance

The tradition is to perfume the dancers if you like their stuff

Sue shows her stuff.

Joining in.

Contestants #2

The judges

Contestants #1

The natural inclination to dance is in the blood.

Lawrence busts some moves

Crazy Reggae woman!

A little nervous but doing great.

December 2009

THE SOLOMON ISLANDS

2009-11-24T18:22:00.008-05:00

After visiting Rarotonga, we sailed to Niue, then the Vava’u group in Tonga, followed by Lautoka in Fiji. Niue was by far our favorite, as we enjoyed some decent rock climbing and having humpback whales swim around our boat at anchor and sing us to sleep at night.

After leaving Fiji we had a quick sail with strong winds to the Solomon Islands. At their peak while running, the winds abaft reached apparent 40-45 knots steady with a couple gusts as high as 60 knots. Seas were a solid 20 feet and sometimes jumping into the cockpit……..not so pleased to make your acquaintance mr. wave wee thought. Other thoughts included; glad to have made that water tight engine control panel cover.

Our first anchorage was in Star Harbor on the island of Makira, where we were treated like family by the village chief, Willie, and his wife, Rebecca. They bestowed us with their generosity, presenting us with fresh pineapple, leafy greens from their garden, and they cooked us a few delicious meals of sweet potato in coconut milk, their main diet. The village of Mwarairaro in Star Harbor consists of a few families living in thatched homes and has no electricity. The people live simply with a subsistence based life-style. They have little, but have a lot to give. We responded to their generosity with gifts of fishing hooks, lures, sunglasses, a snorkeling mask, a bracelet, nail polish, etc. As soon as they gave us a gift, we would respond with a gift, which would be reciprocated by another gift, and so the "giving wars" began, each side trying to repay their indebtedness to the other. Graham received a beautiful chief’s necklace complete with shell money, which can be used for purchasing a wife. The giving war culminated in a large feast held aboard Chandrika. Willie and Rebecca provided a variety of sweet potatoes and a hen. At first they were going to give us the live hen the day before, to keep aboard Chandrika overnight and to slaughter the day of the feast. Not wanting to kill, feather and gut the hen on our boat with Squeak’s assistance, we asked if they could do this part for us, to which they kindly agreed. We had a lovely meal.

the primary school in Mwarairaro village

Casper (the village chief's nephew) with his wife and children

After hopping across slippery mangrove roots we reach the village's old drinking water source. Here is chief Willie with our local guides.

The children in Mwarairaro village have a natural sense of balance and were soon walking across our slack-line with ease.

The police stopped by, disappointed that we had failed to sail half way down the island chain just for the sake of government paper work (‘haus bullshit’ in Pidgin English proper), and kindly informed us we must leave next day for the city of Honiara. The night before our hasty departure, Willie and Rebecca came by to say goodbye and to present us with a very kind letter. Rebecca burst into tears as we gave her a goodbye hug. We will dearly miss our friends in Mwareraro village in Star Harbor.

Together with our friends, Rebecca and Willie, aboard Chandrika

We are currently in Honiara, the capital of the Solomon Islands, taking care of business, before we depart to explore more of the small villages on the outer islands. 24 November, 2009

RAROTONGA

2009-11-24T18:19:00.004-05:00

Rarotonga is the largest of the Cook Islands and is home to the capital of this independent nation. Vegetated volcanic peaks rise up sharply in Rarotonga’s interior making for excellent hiking with spectacular views. As in the Societies, the hikes are strenuous and often involve fixed ropes up steep eroded inclines. Rarotonga’s booming tourist industry feeds the economy, providing well-paved access roads and established trails, which are all shown on the tourist map available at the information center.

While in Rarotonga, we enjoyed speaking English with the locals (as this nation was formerly a New Zealand colony). We also appreciated the variety of locally grown vegetables and being able to find imported mozerella cheese for our home-made pizza.

The Needle

One of our favorite adventures was climbing one of Rarotonga’s most prominent features, called the Needle. While most likely metamorphic, this 150-200 foot spire resembles harder igneous rock, such as granite. After hiking to the base to survey what equipment we would need to climb it, we discovered an easy route up the Needle’s east side. We decided to give it a go without ropes and gear. A few tricky moves up a wide crack led us to a path, which we followed to the base of a chimney. After shimmying up the chimney, we reached the top offering a view of the entire island. A few days later we would climb it again with our friend, David, on Tystie.

David in the chimney

July- August 2009

FROM FRENCH POLYNESIA TO RAROTONGA IN THE COOK ISLANDS

2009-11-24T18:18:00.002-05:00

Rarotonga, in the southern group of the Cook Islands, lies 540nm distant from Bora Bora in French Polynesia. Because of our previous light wind passages, we were looking forward to the forecasted wind speeds ranging from 15 to 25 knots. The winds during our southwesterly passage were expected to shift in a counter-clockwise direction and were predicted to turn full circle. While this would mean that the wind would be right on the nose during part of our journey, the wind was predicted to only be brief and light from the southwest and would soon return to moderate SE trade winds (25 knots predicted). We sailed out of the cut in the reef of Bora Bora on July 20th in ideal conditions. Once outside the pass, with calm seas and 20 knots abeam, we were reaching in the SE trades at a swift 6 knots under full sail. For the next day and a half, we enjoyed pleasant sailing as the wind gradually shifted to the east and then the NE. By mid-day on July 22nd, our wind stopped. We could see squally weather in the distance and we sat and waited for our expected shift in wind. When our wind returned, it hit with surprising force. It was blowing 30 knots, which would have been fine except that the wind was coming straight out of the southwest (the direction we were trying to go). The wind also came with stronger gusts in the 40s and lower 50s. We beat our way forward into the building seas. By morning, the winds (still from the SW) had increased with sustained wind speeds between 40 and 45 knots with gusts in the lower 50s. The seas were confused and were probably around 20 feet in height. We could feel Chandrika being lifted by the swells and then dropped into the troughs with a loud thud against her hull. By this point, we were both beginning to grow sea-sick. The thought of food was nauseating. Periodically, we would poke our heads outside to look for ships and to check the sails. If we needed to venture outside to alter course or make an adjustment, we would quickly slide back the hatch, jump outside, adjust our Monitor self-steering system, and then leap back down below, trying to do so quickly before a breaking wave would douse us with salt water or splash through the open hatch. Occasionally, as Chandrika dipped into a trough, green water would pour over her bow and rush along the deck. Due to the confused nature of the seas, a breaking wave would periodically hit her sideways with a loud thud, sending spray flying. With our double-reefed mainsail, we decided to heave-to, a technique in which the sailboat lies with her bow quartering the oncoming waves as the vessel slowly slips downwind, creating a slick of calmer water upwind in her wake. As soon as we hove-to, the motion felt more comfortable. As we lay on the sole (floor) of the main salon on our settee cushions, we managed to struggle down some much needed dry cereal. We remained hove-to for 18 hours, as we slowly ate and regained our strength. The wind was gradually shifting to a more favorable direction; although at the time it seemed to be doing so incredibly slowly. At 4 am on July 24th, we resumed sailing in a gusty 25 to 45 knots of wind at a beam reach using a triple-reefed mainsail and our staysail. Within 24 hours, the wind had shifted to the East and had subsided to 20 to 30 knots, The seas had also decreased to 12-16 feet. At 1pm on July 25th, we finally dropped sail and motored into Avatiu Harbor in Rarotonga. After a lot of anchoring, re-anchoring and shifting around, there was eventually space for us to tie to the wharf next to the other sailing vessels. July 2009

THE SOCIETY ISLANDS OF FRENCH POLYNESIA

2009-11-24T18:07:00.006-05:00

Upon departing Tahanea in the Tuamotus, we were again plagued with light winds. In an often constant state of experimentation on sail trim, weather helm, point of sail, and sail area/ combination, we were gaining on Tahiti, 3-1/2 days away. Well vegetated, the volcanic up-thrusts of the Societies are protected by barrier reefs and surrounded by a ring of calm, protected aqua blue water. We utilized the benefits of a first world country, such as paved roads and developed hiking trails, while ignoring the tourist industry’s recommendations and requirements of hiring a guide. Directions to a trail head were similar to those given by a taxi driver, only to be punctuated by fear of lawsuit. Trailheads were unmarked but effort and persistence paid off. We got everywhere by bicycle or on foot, which only added to our long missed and much enjoyed full days of exercise. Peaks came in and out of the clouds as we ascended their ridges and valleys. A day in our own private swim hole in the jungle was an enjoyed rarity compared to the long, narrow and often exposed ridge walks. The steepness of the ridges, sometimes resembling irregular elevated stone sidewalks allowed for both nice views and a good bit of shade first through the larger trees and tree ferns, followed by shrub brush, tree entanglements, and small fern groves in the windier parts, starting at about 1200 to 1600 feet above sea level. Hanging ropes were common as was the question of whether or not to trust them. It was 5:45am on the island of Moorea as we biked the 27 km to Mount Moa Puta, rising 2600 feet above Chandrika. Taller than wide and wider than narrow, the peak is shaped like the blunted tip of a knife. At the top of the sharp fin, a hole penetrates through the center, making the summit the top of an arch. Our goal was to reach the summit and then rappel inside the hole. The trail climbed steeply up until it crossed the top of a waterfall and followed along a river. It then split off from the river, where we quickly gained a ridge. The ridge climbed up steeply along loose earth. There were fixed ropes along much of this section to prevent erosion and to keep us from slipping. The summit offered gorgeous views of the coral reef below. A short scramble down the far side of the peak brought us to a bolted anchor, where we hung our climbing rope and rappelled inside the hole below the arch. To ascend back out of the hole, we climbed back up to our anchor on the crumbling rock and scrambled back up to the summit. We then reversed our steps and returned back down the trail. By the time we reached our bikes in the mid-afternoon, we were quite tired and were looking forward to returning home for a big meal and a good night’s sleep. As we approached our bikes, we discovered that the seat to our folding bike had been stolen and the thieves had released the air in the back tire of our other bicycle. On closer inspection, we discovered that our bike lock had been dented, as if someone had tried unsuccessfully to smash it with a rock. Fortunately, we had carried a bike pump with us, but we were not looking forward to biking the 27 km back to Chandrika standing on the pedals the entire way. With our terrible French, we attempted to ask around the neighborhood to see if anyone had seen anything suspicious. At one home, we met a kind English-speaking Polynesian woman, who was concerned about how we would return to our boat without a bicycle seat. Her teenaged daughter then offered us the bicycle seat off of her own bicycle that she no longer used. With relief, we begrudgingly accepted the gift, happy to know that we would be able to get home and would be able to use our bicycles for more adventures in the Societies and beyond.

Moa Puta

climbing out of "the hole" on Moa Puta

Often on our hikes and explorations, we enjoyed the company of various fellow cruisers. Despite the large scale of the South Pacific Ocean, there is not much land, and we see our friends at various anchorages. Our exploration of the Societies also brought us to the Leeward Islands of the Societies, such as Huahine, Raiatea and Bora Bora. In Huahine, we met up with Kirk on Salsa and Martin on Anima. Kirk, always looking for entertainment, proposed setting up a zip-line from the top of his mast to the mast of neighboring Anima, anchored about 200 feet away. As the zip-line idea did not involve the mast of Chandrika, we were more than happy to give it a try.

hiking the narrow Rotui ridge in Moorea

a view on the hike of Mt. Pahia in Bora Bora

June-July 2009

The Tuamotus

2009-08-04T20:37:00.001-05:00

The Tuamotus of French Polynesia consist of about 78 islands. These islands are basically rings of coral reef, fringed with patches of sand and small islets that enclose a lagoon in the center. Many of the lagoons can be entered by sailboats. Their passes are often relatively narrow. As the tide goes in and out, the water inside and outside the lagoon is squeezed through very small openings making for strong currents (sometimes as high as 9 knots). Additionally many of the passes wind their way through coral outcrops, creating navigational hazards. These islands are also poorly charted, which means that the navigator must enter during times of good visibility and must pilot by eye. Fortunately, the water is remarkably clear, giving excellent visibility when the sun is high. Being so remote, much of the coral is pristine and untouched, making for remarkable snorkeling. Only some of the islands are inhabited. The islanders make their living either working for the French government and their nuclear testing program (in the southeastern islands) or they make a lucrative living farming black pearls. We chose to visit only one uninhabited atoll, named Tahanea, which is about 30 miles long by 15 miles wide. We chose this atoll, because it has a wide, easy to enter pass and boasts some of the most colorful fish and coral in the Tuamotus. We departed Ua Pou on June 4th. Unfortunately we had delayed our departure by a day, because other cruisers entering our anchorage had seemed overwhelmed by the big seas and strong winds offshore. When we left there was almost no wind. We would have much preferred the 30 knots of wind abaft of the day prior, as Chandrika really prefers a strong wind over a light one. We spent the first day of our passage crawling along under sail in light wind, or lying ahull (floating with no sail up) when the winds were too light. Fortunately, the wind gradually improved and we had decent wind with periods of nice sailing. To our luck, we arrived at Tahanea on June 8th, only 10 minutes past low tide. During high or low tide is often the best time to enter the passes of the Tuamotus as there is less current making its way through the narrow openings into the lagoon. Our entrance was easy and pleasantly uneventful. We stayed in Tahanea for a week. We did a lot of snorkeling. The fish here were incredible, sporting bright colors and unusual patterns. We encountered a school of fish (which looked similar to surgeon fish), but they had long horns growing out of their foreheads. Other fish had long snouts, resembling the narrow proboscis of insects, which they used to eat microorganisms that lie in the crevasses of coral. We did not do any spear fishing as many of the reef fish in the South Pacific carry the deadly toxin of ciguatera. Locals often know which types of fish are safe to eat in a given area, but as Tahanea was uninhabited there was no one to ask. We decided to play it safe and not eat any of the reef fish. One night during the full moon, we went lobster hunting with a bunch of other cruisers. On the outgoing tide, we walked in the inter-tidal zone in the dark with flashlights. The lobsters lie in small recesses and holes in the coral. You can see their eyes reflecting in the rays of the flashlight, which also causes them to freeze, much like a deer caught in headlights. Unfortunately our LED headlamps were not quite bright enough for the task, but Graham was still able to catch one nice large lobster. It was very sweet and delicious. We had a wonderful time exploring the coral reefs and hanging out with cruising friends, both old and new. We also explored the sandy islets, called motus, covered with hermit crabs and coconut palms; however, land exploration was limited. It was time to move on to the mountains and the reefs of the Society Islands, another group of islands in French Polynesia. June 2009

The Marquesas and the Islands of Paradise

2009-08-04T20:36:00.002-05:00

The town of Atuona in Hiva Oa is one of the largest towns in the Marquesas with a population of almost 2000 residents. We stayed in the harbor for one week while we spent time with friends, went on walks, climbed fruit trees, ate delicious tropical fruit and gave Chandrika some TLC. During our 42 days at sea, gooseneck barnacles grabbed hold of Chandrika and colonized her hull. She was coated with these thick sea creatures and covered in green slime. Because we were almost exclusively on a port tack the entire passage, her starboard side had green slime and barnacles half-way up her topsides. We did the best we could, but the growth has rooted in the paint, so we will have to settle for looking a little dirty until we sand and paint her topsides. We also removed our roller furling unit and our headstay. We cut off the Norseman compression fitting at the end of the cable. It took us an entire day to relay the wires, as they had a mind of their own and somewhat resembled a strangling octopus. Eventually we were able to relay the wires and reattach our old Norseman fitting. Because we did not have a spare cone (the internal part of the Norseman fitting which is not supposed to be reused), we had to reuse the old bronze cone. We plan to purchase a new cable and a new Norseman cone (and some spares!) when we reach Tahiti. Until then, we would have to do the best we could. The entire repair took us 3 days. We were unable to conclusively determine if the broken wires had been caused by the flogging of the sails or by the roller furling unit binding to the cable at the top. Our repairs made, it was time to go and play. We sailed to the neighboring island of Tahuata. The first of the two bays we visited was HanaMoeNoe bay, which is uninhabited had no formal trails but there where wild goats – that is to say inland exploration required serious bushwacking. Where the shoreline cliff yielded access to the mountainside we headed up through vegetation and shrubbery of the 1 inch diameter variety with heights of 5 to 8 feet and plenty thick. Upon gaining the ridge we continued on up. We were drenched in sweat which stung the minor scratches from the thicket. Our clothing smelled of basil like fragrances with a few burrs here and there. It was clear that goats had walked this ridge before but often we would loose their slight trail after walking with our heads more than 3 feet off the ground. A hundred yards of good walking would bring our hopes up that we would reach the summit. This was soon followed by crawls on hands and knees through the brush or that strange combination of walking and swimming over and through it. Such cycling played with our minds drawing us further towards the peak. The last straw (no pun intended) was upon walking into the third nest of wasps, which were in the thicket, and Graham receiving his fourth sting. Sue, who is very allergic to bees and wasps, carries an epinephrine pen. We turned back a few hundred feet below the summit with a good bit of exercise. Next it was Hapatoni bay, which has a small village. We went on hikes, snorkeled and played with the children of Hapatoni and taught them to slackline. The residents of Hapatoni were very friendly. Every afternoon the children and their families (mostly the mothers) go to the pier and swim and play together. We also went on a 6 mile hike with our friend Steve on Tulak, that crossed over 3 ridges and took us to the neighboring village of Vaitahu. It was a holiday, and most of the residents had gone elsewhere, but the hike was very rewarding and offered some beautiful views. Along the way back, we gathered mangoes, bananas and papayas from the trees that were growing all along the sides of the road. On May 24th just before sunset, we raised anchor and set sail for the island of Ua Pou, some 60nm distant. We had excellent winds and arrived at first light. Our first view of the island revealed stunning vertical spires of rock jutting up towards the sky. The peak of Motutakae with its sheer face rose some 750 feet straight out of the water. Wanting to do some climbing, we attempted to find an anchorage right at its base, but to no avail. The ocean floor was too deep for our anchor and strong willawas gusted past Motutakae’s face. Willawas are strong gusty winds, occasionally reaching minor hurricane force (80 knots) that are caused by the trade winds getting funneled through the steep mountain valleys of the Marquesas islands. These gusts are so short lived that they rarely cause any harm; however, we were reluctant to anchor in the path of such gusts, which at the time were reaching 45 knots. We continued on and eventually discovered the bay of Uapo, which cuts inside two rock walls that rose one to two hundred feet high. Cruising has become incredibly popular here in the South Pacific, and we have been amazed at the sheer numbers of cruising sailboats that we have seen so far. We were delighted to discover that we had the entire bay to ourselves. We spent the next couple days bouldering on the rocks and exploring the small beach at the foot of the bay. We discovered a small farm (with no people) that had mango, grapefruit, lime, orange, pamplemousse (a citrus fruit similar to grapefruit) and pomme citron (lime apple) trees, as well as patches of some sort of watermelon type of fruit. We also went on a two to three mile dinghy sail out to Motutakae to take a closer look.

climbing in Uapo Bay

more climbing in Uapo Bay

Motutakae

We then moved two miles up the coast to the town of Hakamaii. Again, there were no cruisers here. There was a little swell coming into the bay, so we set a stern anchor to position us stern-to the swell, allowing for a much more comfortable motion. Wanting to do some laundry, we headed towards the shore in our dinghy with our dirty clothes. The shore-line was full of large rocks and small boulders, and the swell was crashing onto the coast. Since the shore shallowed quickly it was not possible to exit the dinghy before the waves which were crashing on the beach. After studying the pattern of the waves, Graham rowed in backwards and dropped Sue off with the clothes. Sue quickly jumped out and was up to her waist in the water, with the laundry bag held high over her head and waves crashing up against her, making it difficult to walk without falling over. Somehow, she managed to make it to dry land without submerging the laundry. Graham rowed out, anchored the dinghy, and swam in to shore. Many of the townspeople were sitting near the beach and were watching our entry. As we prepared to do laundry in the water faucet at the beach, a woman approached and bestowed us with two cold orange drinks and two large perfectly ripened mangoes. ‘How sweet of her!’ we thought. She soon came back baring more gifts. She had brought us lunch! Our meal consisted of cooked chicken in a sweet brown teriyaki sauce (chicken is a true treat for us, since we eat so much fish these days), plain white rice, fried rice with corn and thin green beans, cooked red banana bathed in a tapioca and coconut milk pudding, cooked local crab in a lime coconut sauce and bread fruit (similar to yucca or potato) to soak up all the delicious sauces. We were unable to engage in much conversation with this very kind woman, since neither of us speak French or Marquesan, but we learned that her name was Andaline. The townspeople were gathered under the communal gazebo beside the beach preparing for the Kids’ Day Festival that was to be held in the island capital of Haketao in a few days. The residents of Hakamaii had spent the past 2 months weaving grass hats, skirts and other apparel in preparation for the festival. After washing the laundry, we went back to the boat and actually managed to keep the laundry salt free. When we returned to shore that afternoon, we anchored the dinghy and swam. We had brought soap bubbles, and we played with the local kids, who were all hopping around on stilts, practicing for the upcoming Kids’ Day Festival. Then we went for a walk, to be followed by a hoard of kids, some on stilts. The kids immediately took to Graham when they discovered that they could point at a fruit tree and Graham would climb right up it and toss fruit down to them. The kids typically had to settle for over-ripened, bruised fruit that had fallen to the ground. They also enjoyed watching Graham climb up the steep side of the 20 foot tall boulders that were strewn along the path. On our way back to the dinghy, we saw Andaline. We gave her a bottle of nail polish and some dragonfly hair barets as a thank you gift. She thanked us and invited us to her house for lunch the next day. The next day, when we returned to the village for lunch with Andaline, we packed dry clothes and a loaf of fresh homemade olive bread in a five gallon plastic paint bucket with lid and dressed in our bathing suits. We anchored the dinghy, swam to shore with the bucket, rinsed off the salt in the fresh water spigot beside the beach, and then walked to a nearby cave along the beach where we changed into clean, dry clothes. We walked to Andaline’s house, a small middle class home with a colorful interior and a spacious feel due to its strong indoor-outdoor integration of spaces. Andaline, who is probably in 40s, lives with her parents. Andaline and her parents run a small convenience store that is right next to their house. Her parents were away visiting Tahiti. Andaline’s youner sister, who lives with her husband in a nearby house, was joining us for lunch. Lunch was amazing. The table was full of different delicious aromas and flavors. We ate poisson crux, a raw fish salad with cabbage, corn, tomato and shredded carrot, raw local crab in a lime fish broth, imported cooked King crab in a salad with tomato and hard-boiled egg with home-made vinaigrette dressing, stewed chicken, raw fish dipped in a lime fish broth, manioc poi-poi, a Marquesan pureé made with either bread fruit or manioc, fried rice with corn, diced chicken and fish, dried, salted fish, and our contribution of olive bread. We were pleased to learn that Marquesans traditionally eat without utensils by using their second and third fingers as a spoon to scoop food into their mouths. For dessert we ate a Tahitian brand of chocolate covered vanilla ice cream and homemade coconut cake. The Marquesan hospitality did not end with lunch. We left with dried fish, coconut cake, fresh green tomatoes from Andaline’s garden, 2 seed necklaces, a flower stone from the nearby bay of Hohoi, and a large coffee table book with gorgeous illustrated (in French) photographs of the island of Ua Pou. After lunch, a number of women from town gathered outside Andaline’s house to weave grass hats and apparel for the festival. Graham learned to weave the hats. Andaline’s sister then took us to her house. Andaline’s sister’s house was much more modest and was constructed from plywood with a tin roof and concrete floor. It had an outside patio that was connected to the house, which you entered through a curtained doorway. Surrounding her home was number of fruit trees and a little land for their pig, chickens, and cats to roam. We learned later that dogs and cats are not pets but are eaten here in the Marquesas. In case we did not have enough gifts, Andaline’s sister gave us 15 pounds of pamplemousse, many key limes, pomme citron, cava, and two green coconuts. Her and her husband also invited us to lunch the next day. Her husband offered us a lift to our dinghy in his outrigger canoe, so we would not have to swim with all of our many gifts. He could take one at a time, so first Sue climbed in. She was told to get in, while the canoe was still sitting on the beach on top of rocks. As she got pushed off the rocks into the water, she could hear the outrigger canoe cracking and could feel it bulging and flexing as it got pushed along the rocks. Andaline’s sister’s husband (we wish we could remember his name) hopped aboard, just as Sue glanced up and realized that the take-off had been timed very, very badly. A huge breaker was coming right at them. As our friend looked around for his oar, the wave crashed right on top of them. Fortunately it just gave them a good wash. Having found his oar, our friend began stroking madly to take them out into the bay outside the reach of the breakers. But first they had to go through one more. This one was even larger than the first and Sue was afraid it was going to pitch-pole the canoe bow over stern. As it broke right on top of them, they managed to stay upright but the breaker completely swamped the canoe. Safely outside the breakers, they had about 3 inches of freeboard sticking out above the surface of the water, but they didn’t sink! The Marquesans have one of the most beautifully carefree and happily positive attitudes we have ever encountered and we immediately fell in love with this mindset. With a huge grin on his face, our friend chuckled as they searched in vain for the small cut-off soda bottle that he uses to bilge his canoe. We have watched a number of the locals land their outrigger canoes on the beach of Hakamaii. While they have lots of experience doing this and show impressive paddling skills, it is still no small feat. About half the time they land, they get either completely soaked or end up entirely under water. Sometimes, however, their landing goes without a hitch. Regardless, their canoes take considerable abuse and we did not want to risk cracking our plastic dinghy on the rocks. We much preferred to swim with our five gallon bucket to keep our belongings dry. The following day, we returned to shore to enjoy a lovely lunch with our new friends and their son (about 10 years old) and young daughter (about 5 years of age). We ate white rice, stewed chicken, fried fish, raw fish dipped in lime coconut milk, octopus in coconut milk, bread fruit poi-poi, and dried shredded coconut. We were aware through these dinners that our hosts tended towards rice and some of the less fancy and less expensive foods showing that they normally do not eat so well and that they were going out of their way for us. This awareness brought about appreciation and conservative eating on our part as well. We gave our thanks with a gift of fishing line and hooks, which were greatly appreciated since they sell at a price ten fold here. We played with soap bubbles with their children and watched their son play around on his stilts. The son and his mother (Andaline’s sister) soon left to travel to the Kids’ Day Festival in the distant city of Hakahau. The kindness that we received in Hakamaii was astounding and really made our visit to the Marquesas feel complete. The swell inside the bay of Hakamaii was increasing as was the wind and we decided to move up the coast to find another more comfortable anchorage. We raised anchor and set sail for the short 6 mile trip to the bay of Hakahetao. We were on a starboard tack at a broad reach sailing in 15 knots of wind, when instantly the wind switched hitting us on our port beam at 15 knots. We had not yet tied off our boom to prevent an accidental jibe, and our boom slammed across to the other side. The winds were incredibly shifty and unpredictable since we were so close to the tall mountains of Ua Pou. Since it was only a few miles, we decided to drop sail and to motor. Soon after doing so, we began to get strong gusts, called willawas, that blew down from the mountains. As we were approaching our anchorage we were hit right on the nose by a 62 knot gust! Since we were only traveling a few miles, we did not bother to stow the sliced bananas that we had drying in the sun on our foredeck. As the gust hit, we were showered by sliced bananas along with the sheet of plexiglass they were lying on. The gust was brief and we continued on our way. We enjoyed the anchorage at Hakahetao, where we explored the rocky coast, and enjoyed a pot luck dinner on the shore with other cruisers, the mayor of Hakahetao and number of locals.

Hakahetao village

During our stay in the Marquesas, we had acquired the usual cuts and scrapes. However, for some reason our cuts were not healing well and were becoming easily infected. While playing with the children in Hapatoni village on the island of Tahuata, we had noticed that the childrens’ cuts were also heavily infected. There is probably some bacteria here in the water that easily infects wounds. Sue had a small scratch that swelled up, became pussy and had a huge red blotch projecting out from the cut, the classic sign of an infected wound going septic. Fortunately, with numerous antiseptic cleanings, the wound eventually healed. Graham, however, who is constantly getting cuts and scrapes, did not get off so easy. He had a badly infected gouge in his knee and a deeply infected blister in between his toes, along with numerous other smaller infections. Even his wasp stings became infected! We decided it was time to leave the Marquesas and move on to cleaner water. Graham went on oral antibiotics, waited to make sure he was improving and then set sail for another region of French Polynesia, known as the Tuamotus. May 2009

Our Pacific Passage

2009-08-04T20:34:00.001-05:00

We departed from Panama on March 30th from the island of Contadora in the Las Perlas islands, about 35 nautical miles (nm) south of Panama City. The winds were light and we sailed and rode the current southward through the Bay of Panama. While leaving the Bay of Panama, in the pitch darkness of a new moon, bright stars and the numerous lights of the Milky Way shone brightly overhead. Almost appearing to be a mirror reflection of the sky above, the twinkling glimmers of phosphorescence sparkled in the ocean below. A school of dolphins swarmed around the boat, sending bright streamers of glitter shooting from behind them as they twisted and weaved about. Stars appeared to burst from the ocean in spouts, as the dolphins surfaced, blowing out the air from their lungs. It was as if they were wishing us a beautiful passage as we slowly drifted south in the current leaving the bay.

Sailing with the dolphins

It was a slow sail towards the Galapagos Islands. Often we were only able to sail because the current was carrying us south and west at about 2 knots. This increased our apparent wind just enough to make sailing just barely possible. As we got closer to the Galapagos, the current began carrying us westward. These conditions made us decide to pass North and West of the Galapagos Islands. While wanting to get a view of the islands, we also did not wish to get too close. With the frequent calms and the strong currents that rip around the islands, we thought it prudent to keep our distance. We experienced nice sailing conditions as we passed north of the islands, but once we were past them and trying to make our way south along the west side of the islands, we lost our wind. We had an agonizing 4 days being becalmed with a north setting current pushing us in the opposite direction that we wished to go. We seized every opportunity to sail, making the most of every tiny puff of wind. Through our desperation not to lose ground and to attempt working our way to the Southern latitudes, we discovered that we could actually forereach into the wind with our asymmetrical spinnaker and mainsail. All we needed was 2 knots of South wind to gain speed and then we could create enough wind from our own forward propulsion to continue sailing. It was painstaking work. At times the boat was so barely sailing that if we moved around too quickly we would throw Chandrika off balance causing the sails to flog and us to stop sailing.

Sailing in light winds with the assymetrical spinnaker

On April 13th we crossed to equator. That night we sat on watch becalmed gazing at the four stars of the Southern Cross beckoning us southward. On the opposite side of the sky, we could see the Big Dipper and the North Pole Star. We still had not caught a glimpse of the Galapagos and had assumed that we would be unable since we were too far offshore. However, stepping out on deck one night, we saw a bright red stream of lava outlining the right-hand side of a mountain, as a plume of red smoke billowed upwards from its summit. We were witnessing a volcanic eruption on Isla Isabela! What an amazing site! The next 2 nights (being in relatively the same location since we were still becalmed) we could here a rumbling like thunder, which we presumed could only be coming from the volcano, although we could no longer see any lava or smoke). On April 16th, the winds began and come April 17th we had made it through the Doldrums. We were moving along in East South-East 20 knot winds with 2 to 3 foot chop on top of 6 foot swell. It was great to be moving again. We threw out our 300 pound monofilament hand lines and soon we we had caught a 10 pound Skipjack Tuna.

Skipjack Tuna

The trade winds continued and so did the catch. Next was a 16 pound Mahi Mahi (also called Dorado), which made for great ceviche and a couple of meals. The rest was dried for preservation, to be eaten in the next few days. These fish were a bit large for us, as we prefer to eat it fresh and not dried (as we do not have refrigeration). We were therefore happy that our next few catches were 3 to 6 pound Mahi Mahi. Mmmm….

Mahi-Mahi

The fishing was great and we kept at it. Graham set a line early one morning and soon noticed we had taken a 30 degree zig zag on the GPS recorded track. Almost as strange was that we had dropped in speed by 1 knot. Sure enough a fish had bit our line, and this was not a little fish. Sue was awoken from her peaceful sleep, and we took turns hauling in the line. The fish was a fighter and we got a great workout as we pulled it in. “Damn that’s a Big fish!” Sue said. Graham had recently made a noose out of stainless steel cable and a 6 foot wooden rod in anticipation of catching a “Big fish”. We ran the hand line through the eye of the noose and eventually over the head of the fish. We tightened it down at the tail, so that we now had the fish by both ends. Graham lifted the fish up by the tail and successfully landed it onboard. We had caught a huge yellowfin tuna. While only 4’ 2” long, this fish had a girth the same as Sue’s (over 2 feet) and it weighed 60 to 70 pounds! Now we understand why this is a commercial fish. We quickly jabbed an ice pick into its brain for a speedy death and for our own safety. Before prepping the fish, Sue let out the tangled and bloody line and was coiling it back in for storage, when… “Oh Shit!” she cried. “What’s wrong?” “We just caught another fish!” Yes. It was another large yellowfin tuna. We pulled this one up as we contemplated how we were going to release it without killing it. To our luck, the stainless steel hook broke and we lost the fish. What a relief!

Yellowfin Tuna

We cleaned and gutted our catch. We only kept 40 pounds of meat. We cut steaks and lay them out to sun-dry. The whole process took about 6 hours.

Preparing the tuna to be sundried

The trades kept blowing from the South East at 10 to 20 knots, and we were moving along well, covering anywhere from 120 to 140 nm a day. We liked having at least 20 knots of wind, because with any less wind the sails did not stay full as Chandrika got tossed around in the large Pacific swell. On April 20th we passed through a system of squalls one after another after another. The wind between the squalls was about 20 to 25 knots, with anywhere from 30 to 40 knots of wind inside the squalls. One particularly strong squall had gusts in the upper 40s, topping out at 48 knots! We stayed heavily reefed as we were slammed every couple hours by another squall. This weather lasted about 48 hours. When the squall system finally passed, the swell had grown to about 9 feet with 2 to 3 foot seas overlaid on top. While we still had moderate trade winds, varying from 10 to 20 knots, it became more challenging keeping the sails full, especially when the wind dropped to between 10 and 15 knots. We were still making good mileage, but it became difficult and stressful to keep the sails from flogging. We did our best to minimize the slapping of the sails, but at times it was unavoidable. The swell gradually lessened as did our wind and by April 28th, we were sailing along in 5 to 10 knots of East South-East wind and calm seas with a gentle 1 to 3 feet of swell. On April 30th with about 850 nm remaining until the Marquesas, we decided to furl in the jib and bring out the asymmetrical spinnaker. The jib would not furl. Graham went up to the foredeck and looked up. He noticed a few wires protruding from the top of the forestay. We pulled the jib down, removing it from the roller furling system. Graham tied into a halyard and shimmied up the mast. In the 3 feet of swell, he did his best to keep from swinging around and slamming into the rigging. To our horror, Graham discovered that four wires had broken at the bottom of our swageless compression fitting. The wires had unraveled down to the top of the roller furling extrusions. Graham had been aloft 3 days prior, when the sheeve for our asymmetrical spinnaker halyard had broken, shredding the sheath off of the halyard. At that time there were no wires protruding from the headstay, so the wired must have just recently broken. For the next 3 days, we sank into depression. We were not worried about getting to the Marquesas safely. We had brought 80 gallons of diesel and so far had only used 1 gallon. Our engine is very fuel efficient for a marine diesel engine, using only a little over 1 liter per hour. With our diesel capacity and a slight westbound current, we could probably motor to the Marquesas if we sucked our tank and fuel reserves dry. What we were concerned about was being able to repair our headstay, since we will have a long way to go after the Marquesas. We suspected that the flogging of the jib had placed enormous strain on the cable just below the fitting, which had caused the break; although, we could not be certain Unfortunately, we could not fully assess the damage without removing the roller furling unit, which would have to wait until we were in harbor. For now, we would have to focus on the rest of the journey. No longer able to use our jib without risk of causing further damage, we were limited to sailing with just the mainsail, our spinnaker and our small staysail. Fortunately, since the trade winds were coming from abaft, there should be little strain on the forestay. Furthermore, since we are a cutter rig, our baby inner forestay provides some redundancy. If decided that if we needed to forereach, we would do so with a reefed mainsail and our staysail, in order to eliminate strain on the mast above the inner forestay attachment point. The last thing we wanted to do was to fracture our mast or even lose the top piece of it. For the rest of our passage, we had extremely light winds directly astern, and we were frequently becalmed. We mostly sailed with our asymmetrical spinnaker. On May 10th, at first light, we saw land. Hive Oa and the surrounding islands of the Marquesas shot out of the ocean. Their majestic summits and lush green vegetation beckoned us. As we were approaching Hiva Oa, we caught sight of our friend, Steve, on Tulak, sailing in and completing his 44 day long passage from Costa Rica to the Marquesas. We had last seen Steve in Panama City about 2 and a half months ago. We sailed in together towards Atuona harbor.

Arriving at Atuona Harbor on the island of Hiva Oa

As soon we had dropped our anchor in Atuona harbor, we were greeting by a red trimaran named Migration. The trimaran motored past us, as a man and woman shouted, “Welcome to the Marquesas!” and proceeded to toss fresh tropical fruit at us. They bestowed us with bananas and juicy pomplemousse, a local citrus fruit akin to the grapefruit. Our friends, Rebecca and Patrick, on Brickhouse, arrived to welcome us and to help us set our stern anchor, the customary anchoring technique in Atuona harbor. They told us that Bruce and Alean aboard Migration had invited us to dinner. We began our meal that evening with poisson cru, a delicious Polynesian version of ceviche that uses coconut milk, cabbage and small pieces of fruit. The main course was lightly seared fresh yellowtail tuna sashimi bathed in a garlic ginger soy sauce, rice, and fresh slices of perfectly ripened mango. Apparently Bruce is a former professional chef. The best part of the evening was enjoying the company of our friends both old and new, Rebecca, Patrick, Bruce and Alean. What a perfect welcome we received in the Marquesas! April to May 2009

Panama City

2009-03-25T21:28:00.002-05:00

Since coming through the canal at the end of October, we have stayed in Panama City and the surrounding area. Panama City has served as an excellent port for preparing Chandrika for our upcoming crossing of the Pacific Ocean. Panama City has a wide selection of materials and supplies available. That said, it is not always easy to find them. Latin America works on a different time scale than the US. It seems that every other week there is a major holiday and stores are closed. Furthermore, stores are not centralized and computerized like back home. For example, Novey’s is a hardware store chain throughout Panama. If they are sold out of a particular item, they are unable to look in their computer and tell you if another one of their stores has it in stock. They also are unable to call the other store to ask for you. Sometimes they claim they do not have a telephone. Somehow I find this hard to believe. Additionally, many stores in the area do not display their merchandise. Instead you must walk up to the counter and ask them if they have what you are looking for. This would not be so bad if it were not for the fact that many of the employees have no idea what they sell. When purchasing a valve for a propane tank, we went to the Tropigas store and asked them if they had a US propane tank valve. They told us that they did not and sent us on a wild goose chase looking for one. Exhausted and empty-handed we rowed back to Chandrika. On the way, we stopped to talk to some fellow cruisers. We discovered they had bought a US propane tank valve at the Tropigas we had visited that very morning. Our friends gave us their receipt, which showed the purchase of a “USA valvula ” which incidentally was exactly what we had called it at the store. We returned the next day armed with the receipt and yes, they had plenty of them. Perhaps it just depends what sales representative you get. We began trying to call stores in advance to see if they had what we needed in stock, but soon realized that this approach was pointless. Often they would say that yes, they had selection of the item we wanted. Then after spending two hours traveling all over town on buses, we would arrive at the store to discover that there was nothing of the kind available. As the city is extremely loud with horns honking, street venders yelling, and music blaring out of the open shops, it was always a relief to get back to the relative quiet of the anchorage. Despite many frustrations and various set-backs, we have accomplished a lot over the last few months. We’ve undertaken numerous electrical projects, such as installing a new Garmin GPS, a fish-finder that serves as a back-up depth sounder, and a Single Side Band (SSB) radio and antennae for receiving weather forecasts and for listening to news. Our previous SSB radio had very poor reception and it was so corroded, it was difficult to change frequencies, making it virtually useless. We’ve also fixed various other electrical problems that involved rewiring a few systems. In addition to our electrical projects, we’ve tackled our rigging and have made some modifications. We’ve added two halyards for hoisting our new asymmetrical spinnaker. This sail will allow us greater sail area for sailing in light downwind conditions. We’ve also improved our reefing system so that we can more easily reduce sail area when we encounter strong winds. Chandrika’s mainsail now has 3 reef points, allowing us to further reduce sail area should we get caught in a serious storm. Up to now, we’ve had only 2 reefs, which has been sufficient for the winds we’ve encountered so far. We’ve moved the cheek blocks that we use for reefing and have improved their attachment to the boom by riveting them in place. The cleats for putting in the third reef are through bolted. We’ve also added lazyjack lines and have re-rigged our running backstays to allow for greater tension adjustment. In preparing for our passage, we’ve also inspected all of our hoses and thru-hull attachments, replacing hose-clamps when necessary. During our check, we discovered that our sink drain had corroded, leaving the hose (that is attached to a thru-hull) standing upright but completely detached from the sink. This discovery followed an incident in which we and fellow cruisers rescued a boat at anchor from sinking when a hose burst off of its thru-hull. This incident served as a reminder of the importance of vigilance when living afloat. We’ve also made a few improvements to our creature comforts as well. We scraped away the old flaky paint inside our storage lockers and added some fresh paint. We’ve also installed a new 2 burner propane stove, which runs off of a large 25 pound propane tank that we have secured on deck. Our old stove was a one burner propane stove that ran on small green camping stove propane bottles. These bottles can be hard to find and are difficult to refill. Our new tank can be refilled easily in many places around the globe. Our biggest improvement to Chandrika, however, is our installation of a Monitor self-steering device. This device mounts on Chandrika’s stern and uses the wind to keep her steering on course. We will no longer have to sit at the helm 24/7 keeping Chandrika on course. This will be greatly appreciated as we will be doing a lot of sailing the next several months! The installation of the Monitor wind-vane went fairly smoothly but was not without its difficulties. Its installation required us to remodel our bimini (our shade structure). Since the wires for some of our electrical equipment ran through the bimini frame, this involved rewiring our radar, our wind-speed indicator, our solar panel and our GPS antennae. While rewiring the radar, we discovered that the previous owner had accidentally mounted the scanner at a 90 degree angle. No wonder we had never been able to understand the images on the radar screen (not that we had ever put much time into it). Mounting the Monitor itself, involved suspending the 80 pound unit over the water, aligning it with Chandrika’s stern and drilling 8 holes through her transom, no small undertaking. Our time in Panama City hasn’t been all work. We’ve met many sailors here who have become great friends. We celebrated Thanksgiving aboard 50’ Warrior, with our friends Robin and Michelle and about 20 other cruisers. Graham baked a turkey in our oven using a cut-off tin can filled with denatured alcohol. It was delicious. We’ve also had a couple of visits from family. Sue’s mom and dad visited for 5 days at the beginning of December. We took Chandrika to the nearby island of Taboga and enjoyed a few relaxing days, spending time together. On our return to Panama City, we visited the Panama Canal and watched ships transit through the Miraflores Locks. We also went on a tour of the city. Graham’s mother and sister also came for a short 6 day visit at the end of January. Since dry season had just begun with its prevailing North winds, we decided to leave Chandrika anchored and visit Taboga by ferry. The anchorage at Taboga is exposed to the north, and it can get quite rough inside during the dry season. We spent a few days on Taboga, hiking, kayaking and relaxing on the beach. After Taboga we returned to mainland and visited Gamboa, a resort on Gatun Lake along the Panama Canal. We had wonderful visits with our families. We really cherish these visits and wish we could spend more time with our loved ones. Over the winter holidays, we took a break from work and sailed to Las Perlas Islands, about 40 miles south of Panama City. We had a wonderful time exploring the islands. At our last anchorage at the island of San Jose, we discovered a waterfall along the coast that could be reached by scrambling along the rocks at low tide. What a beautiful shower spot, right on the ocean. Our visits with family and our trip to Las Perlas were a much needed break from our hard work on Chandrika. In addition to boat maintenance, we’ve been loading up with spare parts and supplies, such as a spare alternator, spare blocks and sheaves, engine oil, etc. Additionally we’ve stocked up with food and toiletries. We’ve heard that imported foods and toiletries in many of the South Pacific Islands can cost over 10 times as much, so we’ve made the best of Panama’s low food prices and have heavily provisioned. We’ve also increased our water capacity to 130 gallons, by adding several more jerry cans, and we’ve expanded our diesel fuel capacity to 80 gallons. With Chandrika heavily loaded and down to her water line, we are finally ready to set sail. We plan to leave Panama City on either March 26th or the 27th. We’ve decided to skip the Galapagos. Entry fees are expensive and to explore the islands, it is obligatory that you hire a guide. We plan to sail non-stop to the Marquesas in French Polynesia. From Las Perlas islands off the coast of Panama to the Marquesas is a distance of about 4150 nautical miles. This route takes us across the equator and the doldrums, where there is often little to no wind. After passing this area, we should eventually meet up with the strong South Pacific trade winds. It is difficult to estimate how much time it will take us to sail this distance, because it depends so much on the winds that we find along the way. It could take us as much as 50 days, but without catching rain water, we have enough water for over two months. Right now our minds are focused on the journey and we are looking forward to spending a month at sea. November 2008 – March 2009

Colón and The Panama Canal

2009-03-12T16:39:00.007-05:00

Many of the cruisers are well-off Los Estados Unidos gringos who have spent most of their lives at home being filled with fear from the media. We therefore took our warnings of the dangers of Colón with a grain of salt. After all most cities can be dangerous if you don’t use common sense. However, while not quite as bad as most made it out to be, Colón is a city of great economic disparity, a 50% unemployment rate, and therefore unusually high crime. A fellow cruiser aboard World Wind was yanked into an alleyway at gunpoint close to where he was doing laundry. After taking a swing at the man with the gun, he lost only his passport, pants and perhaps a little dignity walking back to the laundromat in his underwear. An unusually unlucky man, on his second visit to the city (and only his second day in the city), his dinghy and outboard were stolen right off his boat. So, while we almost always go for walking, we took cabs at night and when going through dangerous sections. It was our goal to be out of the city as quickly as possible and yet, while never having been through the canal, we wanted the experience in order to be comfortable bringing Chandrika through. While waiting for an opportunity to line-handle on another boat, we were visited by our good friend, Steph, who hoped to share the canal experience with us. Unfortunately, Steph was unable to stay long enough to go through the canal. She left after a brief but wonderful four day visit. Having had no luck going through on another vessel, we opted to get the show on the road. We paid our fees, including signing a contract that we would owe an additional $400 + if we went less than 8 knots through the canal (with a hull speed of 7.5 knots, we told them we did 8), along with another additional $800 + if we damaged the canal walls (likely story).

Steph visits, bringing many bursts of happiness to Colón

The next step was to get 4 heavy ropes over 125 feet and many tires to protect Chandrika’s topsides, prior to the official inspection and measurement necessary for canal transit. The canal traffic was low, and the scheduling office gave us a date only 4 days post inspection. Our friends, Slim and Gail, aboard Miss Gale and their daughter, Wendy, and Sue made up the four necessary line handlers. Graham took on the role as captain for our transit. We were ready to go. On October 28th at sunset, our advisor (the Autoridad del Canal de Panamá, ACP, personnel in charge of assisting us through the locks) came aboard. We motored towards the Gatun Locks, the first set of locks for the canal. There are several ways a sailboat can transit through the locks. The preferred method, which we were fortunate enough to experience the entire way through, is to be “center-tied”. This means that the sailboat motors into the center of the chamber. Four long dock lines are used to secure the boat to the side walls. The engine is put in neutral, and now the lines are used to control the position of the boat. On the way up, the water enters the chamber. As the boat rises, the distance between the boat and the top of the sidewalls, where the boat is secured, becomes shorter. To compensate, the line handlers on the boat take in the slack, being careful to keep the boat straight and in the center of the chamber. After the chamber is full, the lines are released from the wall. The captain then uses the boat’s engine to motor into the next chamber, where the procedure is repeated. We passed through the three chambers of Gatun Locks so quickly (in 1 and 1/2 hours), it was difficult to register everything that happened. Part of the haste was because the canal workers were in a hurry. They double-culverted us, meaning that they filled each chamber twice as quickly as normal. It being our first time through, we did not realize that this was unusually hectic. As soon as our lines were placed on the cleats of the sidewalls, the water would rush in, creating circular swirls of turbulence. On the 3rd and last chamber of Gatun Locks, our lines were secured to the cleats by the ACP workers up above. Then, for some unknown reason, one of the workers removed one of the lines from the cleat. With the engine in neutral, the turbulence from the water coming into the lock immediately pushed on our bow sideways and Chandrika was now positioned perpendicularly in the chamber. Our wonderful advisor began screaming into the radio, yelling at the authorities not to run water into the lock, because “my vessel is in a compromised position” at the fault of an ACP worker. Thanks to our excellent advisor and some serious line-handler sweat, no harm was done. (We have been through the canal twice since bringing Chandrika, and we have yet to meet an advisor as good as the one we had while going through Gatun Locks.) After passing through Gatun Locks, we motored to a mooring buoy, where our advisor departed and we prepared to spend the night. We were now on Gatun Lake, just over 80 feet above sea level. In the morning, we woke on the calm stillness of the lake to the sounds of howler monkeys. Graham, Sue, and Slim went for a morning dip. After spotting a crocodile, we decided it was time to dry off and to wait for our new advisor.

Slim and our Panamanian advisor

Our advisor (not the same one as yesterday) finally arrived at 9:45am, over three hours late. We were finally on our way. We motored through the 23.5 mile long channel that spans Gatun Lake. We entered the Pedro Miguel lock at 1:30pm, having averaged a little over 6 knots. Now began our descent back to sea level. We were the only boat in the entire lock. 10 million gallons of fresh water was spent to down-lock a single 34 foot sailboat, giving us images of a Cheerio being flushed down the toilet. Down-locking was much more relaxing than the hasty up-locking of the night before.

Gail after an exhausting 2 days and a brief squall

An ACP worker crossing the canal on top of the chamber door

After the Pedro Miguel Lock, we continued on to the Miraflores Locks and our final two chambers. While we waited for a cargo ship to arrive, we were told to dock against the wall. After an hour and a half, the ship arrived, and we were instructed to pull away from the wall and prepare for center tie-up. The ACP workers passed us the ends of two lines, called monkey fist lines, that we would use to send them our dock lines after our boat was positioned in the middle of the chamber. One end of the line was therefore on our boat and the other end was in the hands of the ACP worker on the wall/ dock. Being too lazy to feed out the appropriate amount of line as we pulled away from the wall, he decided to throw a huge 100 foot long wad of line into the water, right at our propeller.

The ship behind us in the Miraflores locks

Chandrika has a keel-mounted rudder with a small cut-out just for the propeller. Protected as it is, the line became entangled, and Graham quickly threw the engine into neutral. We were not allowed to dive the prop and after going between forward and reverse, the line twisted free, but we doubted that was all of it. We down locked without trouble and upon exiting the locks, we throttled up to 80% maximum speed. The shaft and propeller shuddered. While still in the canal, we convinced the advisor to allow us to pull to the side, drop the hook at 2:1 scope and dive the propeller on the basis that the shaft could come free and the boat could sink. Graham dove with a knife and found a wad of rope 20 layers thick on the 1” of exposed shaft between the boat and the propeller. Cutting off the rope revealed that it had eaten 1.5” into the rubber lining of the bronze cutlass bearing (a bearing around the shaft that keeps the shaft from wobbling). Further inspection of the shaft at the coupling (where the shaft attaches to the engine transmission), we found that the set screws had come loose, allowing the rope to pull the shaft about 1” out of the coupling. Without divots in the shaft, we put in the two spare set screws we had, wired them together, hauled up the hook (anchor) and were on our way to drop off the line-handlers. With a ripping current, darkness upon us and stress high, we were fortunate to have a panga come up to Chandrika and bring them ashore. (Docking was the only other foreseeable option at the time.) “Welcome to the Pacific,” we thought, as we dropped the hook for the night. We soon discovered after much effort and frustration that the shaft was permanently out from the coupling (unless we pulled out the engine), as we could not get it to go in the final ½”. Graham carefully drilled new divots into the shaft for the set screws, which along with the key and machine fit will have to do until Chandrika gets hauled out again. Furthermore, while we could have tried to get the ACP to take responsibility for the damage, the foreseeable bureaucratic hoops made it not worth the effort. Hey! Look on the bright side – we can now fit a larger and better zinc anode onto the shaft (to prevent corrosion of the propeller). With headaches behind, an ocean lay ahead.

From Cartagena to Colón

2009-03-12T16:31:00.004-05:00

A tropical depression was forming on the Pacific side of Panama. According to the weather forcast this depression was going to cause 15 to 20 knot southerly winds on the Caribbean side of the Isthmus of Panama. Delighted that we might have enough wind to actually sail (wind is difficult to come by in this area at this time of year), we set of to Colón, a distance of about 270 nm. On Day 1 (October 11th), we struggled to sail in the light, almost non-existent winds, at times breaking down and motoring for short periods. By the middle of the afternoon, the wind increased and we were able to sail close-hauled. The night brought another frustrating lull in the wind. On the morning of Day 2, we were experiencing light NW winds. Just before 11am, we approached a line of squalls. We quickly reefed our mainsail in anticipation of getting hit by a squall; however, we managed to weave Chandrika between the squalls without getting hit. As soon as we crossed the squall line, the weather switched dramatically. The wind turned directions, coming from the south, and had gained in strength to 10-15 knots with occasional 20 knot gusts. We were now moving along nicely at 5-1/2 to 6 knots. For the rest of the day and the following two days, the wind became very sporadic in its intensity, making the sailing difficult and at times intense. We experienced periods of light 0 to 5 knot wind followed by periods of stronger 20 to 25 knot winds. Sometimes the lulls would last only 20 minutes to be followed by 10 minutes of blasting 25 knot wind, and then the wind would drop again to almost nothing for 10 to 20 minutes. We put 2 reefs in the mainsail and would sit and wait, barely moving in the still air. Then we would fly along when one of the strong gusts would hit us and then again the wind would stop.

A young Great Heron, being caught in one of the strong gusts and unable to fly back to shore, lands on "Chandrika".

24 hours later, our friend is still with us.

Perhaps our lost friend thinks Graham is his "papa"?

Fortunately, the gusts never lasted long enough to build up the seas too badly. By late afternoon, however, the winds began to increase. Still we had fluctuating wind speeds, but now we would experience 10 to 20 minutes of 10-15 knot winds followed by 10 to 20 minutes of 30-35 knot winds coming from abeam. This fluctuated back and forth until soon after sunset when the wind completely stopped. We sat and waited. Eventually we decided to motor through the eerie stillness, not knowing what to expect next. Then it hit. Right on the nose, we were blasted with a 30 to 40 knot sustained headwind! The wind no longer came in spurts like before. We experienced hours of this strong steady wind. The seas began to build and we were slamming our way into them. With only about 20nm remaining until we reached Colón and being already 4 tiring days at sea, we were eager to get into the harbor. Between the screeching wind and the hammering seas, we were crawling along, only barely making headway. Our options were to heave-to (possibly for days) waiting for the wind to let up, to continue beating into the wind under sail (potentially spending the next day doing so), or to turn on the motor and power-sail into the wind and waves with the hope of reaching Colón the following morning. We opted for the third choice. We forced our way onward and by first light we entered the breakwater protecting Colón. Completely exhausted, we anchored Chandrika in the Flats anchorage outside the Panama Canal Yacht Club. October 2008

Cartagena, Columbia

2009-03-12T16:27:00.003-05:00

After the quiet solitude of Kuna Yala, the loud honking horns, the rumbling of engines and the ear-wracking clamor of people screaming and yelling on the busy streets was overwhelming. Cartagena, Columbia was the first real city we’d visited since we left Miami, Florida about a year ago. Surprisingly it did not take long for the culture shock to abate and for us to settle in to the fast paced city life.

Approaching the Big City

We spent our time in the city acquiring numerous boat parts and supplies that only a large city can provide. We also carried out numerous boat projects, including hauling the boat out of the water and painting the bottom with antifouling. The anchorage in Cartagena was filled with other sailboats. While we were there, more and more arrived. During the fall months, there is almost no wind in this area, except for during the occasional Culla de Pollo (which means Chicken Butt in Spanish). These intense squalls came every few days during the middle of the night, bringing strong 30 to 40 knot winds, heavy rain and intense lightning. Due to the tight quarters of the anchorage and the slippery mud bottom, often a number of boats would drag their anchor. Fortunately, the owners were typically on board and there were no incidents of boats crashing into other boats. Despite the smog from the city, the brown smelly ocean water in the harbor, both of us falling sick with flu-like symptoms (which would recur 2 more times), and the oppressive, stifling heat, we enjoyed Cartagena. We were able to walk most everywhere we needed to go in relative safety. Columbians as a whole are some of the friendliest people we have ever met. Rather than simply giving us directions, people would walk us to where we were trying to go. On the island of Barú (20 nm south of Cartagena), some of the locals we met gave us mangoes, coconuts, watermelon, and limes off the trees in their yards. We also took a trip to Isla Grande, on of the Rosarios Islands (also 20nm south of Cartagena), where we varnished the interior of the boat and went ashore to walk, to explore and to play with the local children while the varnish dried. We went to the middle of town and started slacklining in the park. Slacklining is a recreational activity popular among rock climbers that involves walking across a one inch wide piece of webbing that is stretched tightly between two trees. It is an excellent way to practice ones balancing skills. Quickly the children gathered to watch and we invited them to join. Some of the children were amazingly good. We watched in awe as a tiny little girl (probably only 4 years old) after only several attempts was able to walk the entire length of the webbing unassisted (something Sue was unable to accomplish after many more attempts). While in Cartagena, a man we met at ta store selling leather and heavy canvas offered us $5000 to bring him to the US on our sailboat. Appealing as it was, should 5 of his compadres want to come along for the same fare, we had already decided to head to Colón to transit the Panama Canal.

September 2008

Sailing to Cartagena, Columbia

2009-03-12T16:26:00.001-05:00

Arriving in Zapzurro, Columbia was like entering another world. Instead of thatched homes that blend in with the colors of the earth, we saw brightly painted concrete buildings. The yellows, greens, blues and pinks sharply contrasted the surrounding jungle. The gently sounds of nature, the soft lapping of water on the shore, and the beautiful songs of birds were overridden by the loud upbeat rhythms of salsa music and the roaring of outboard engines on the small pangas entering and leaving the harbor. Despite our culture shock at arriving here, we realized that were we arriving from anywhere other than Kuna Yala, we would see Zapzurro for what it really is, a small quaint, little village nestled in the jungle, far removed from roads and motorized land-vehicles. We soon went ashore to explore the new sites. Since Zapzurro is not an official point of entry and we had just arrived in Columbia, we decided to check in with the police to let them know of our arrival and to request permission to stay and visit. We had no trouble finding an officer. The village was swarming with policemen. They were all dressed in green military fatigue with tall, black combat boots and were carrying huge automatic firearms. In contrast to their fear-provoking attire, they were also wearing large, friendly smiles. The policemen in Zapzurro were the most genuinely hospitable and helpful policemen we have ever met. They encouraged us to stay and to explore, and they helped us to find our way. We spent the next two days hiking in the jungle and visiting the neighboring towns. On our third day, a cruiser named Don came into the harbor and told us of the excellent sailing conditions offshore. Hurricane Gustaf was in the Carribean 1000nm to our north and was sucking the air out of our area, creating wind. We had been hoping to have enough wind to sail to Cartagena and had reluctantly assumed we would have to motor a large part of the way. Now was our opportunity. On August 28th at 10am, we left Zapzurro en route to Cartagena. Outside the sheltered bay, we encountered almost no wind, and we begun questioning the timing of our departure. However, only two hours after leaving, the wind picked up out of the west and then soon clocked around to the southwest. We were sailing at a broad reach (wind coming from the stern port quarter) in 20 knots of wind. It was perfect! We were making excellent speed. Our GPS showed us to be moving at 7 to 7-1/2 knots! Since we hadn’t sailed much faster than 2 knots in the past few months (because of the light winds), we had almost forgotten that Chandrika could sail so fast. We sailed throughout the night and the following day at 2pm we arrived at an intermediate anchorage point highly recommended by a fellow cruiser. The anchorage was on the south side of Tintipán, an island in the San Bernardino island group, south of Cartagena. Unfortunately, the anchorage was terrible. The bottom was sand covered with coral heads. Since it was already afternoon, we did not want to continue sailing as it would mean sailing through reef-strewn waters that night in the dark with terribly inaccurate charts. We had also been warned to stay protected from the south, as the squalls that occasionally pass through in the night tend to approach from this direction. This anchorage would be completely exposed should we experience a squall. We also did not like how close to shore we needed to anchor to be in anchorable depths. Not far from shore the bottom quickly dropped to 120 feet, a depth too deep in which to anchor. We spent the next two hours motoring around, sounding the bottom, trying to find somewhere shallower that did not bring us uncomfortably close to shore. We also hoped that we would anchor somewhere that did not have coral. We finally found a patch of ground with 75 foot depths. That night we awoke instantly as the wind jumped from only a few knots to about 30 knots. We rushed outside and quickly pulled down our shade awning to reduce windage on our boat. By the time we got it down (about 5 minutes later), the wind speed had picked up to 40 knots. Just as we had feared, the winds from the squall were coming directly from the south, pushing our boat towards the shore. We were so thankful we had gone through all the trouble of finding a spot further away from the shore! That said, we still did not like having a lee shore. If our anchor were to drag, we might have a hard time keeping the boat off the land, especially if the wind got any stronger. We turned on the motor, keeping it in low throttle in an attempt to relieve some of the strain on the anchor. The strong winds were kicking up about 5 feet of swell. We watched as our dinghy, which was trailing behind the boat, rose up as high as our heads and then dropped out of view behind Chandrika’s transom. The squall stopped almost as quickly as it had begun. It had lasted only about an hour, but an intense hour it had been! The winds were sustained at 40 knots with higher gusts. The highest gust we recorded was 47 knots. At first light, very eager to leave, we raised anchor and motored towards Barú, an island 20nm south of Cartagena. Barú has an excellent, well-protected anchorage with lots of room, 22 foot depths, and a good-holding mud bottom. Here we relaxed and enjoyed ourselves for a week before continuing on to Cartagena. August – September 2008

Food

2009-03-12T15:22:00.004-05:00

We are often asked by friends and family what we eat. First we should describe the galley (kitchen in boat-speak) and its facilities. The refrigerator is by far the largest energy consumer on sailboats. Many cruisers run their engine for 1 hour or more per day to produce the energy needed to run their fridge. Our boat came with an old, inefficient refrigerator system from the early 80s and a poorly insulated ice box, which houses the cold-plate for the fridge. The refrigerator unit does not work and probably needs a change of Freon (the old ozone-depleting kind which is now banned in the US). Because we want to eliminate hassles and because we strive to lessen our dependence on fossil fuels by minimizing energy consumption, we have opted to go without a refrigerator. And let’s face it! We are frugal. Since we were living out of a car before moving onto the boat, it does not feel like a sacrifice at all. Chandrika also came with a broken three burner stove with oven that runs on pressurized denatured alcohol. She also came with a hanging stove that uses small propane gas canisters, which are the size that one might take backpacking. The propane stove works excellently. It is even on gimbals, which allow it to swing back and forth, keeping the stove level while the boat is rolling and pitching about. Unfortunately, the alcohol stove does not work. There are a number of leaks in the fuel lines making it impossible to use one burner without the others spewing out alcohol in several other places. While in Miami, thinking we would want an oven, Graham set about fixing it. After having searched and found spare parts from an old stove on EBay, he began disconnecting and reconnecting lines and cleaning out the tank and burners. When it came time to test the stove, Graham lit a match. There was a large bang, a flash of light and the smell of burnt human hair as Graham threw himself across the boat and away from the stove. We don’t need an oven! Since leaving the states, we have mostly been using the same ingredients as the locals use: beans, rice, pasta, lentils and fish. Because we don’t have a fridge, we cook a separate lunch and dinner, and we do not make enough to have left-overs. Breakfast consists of cold cereal or cooked oats with fruit (bananas or raisins) and non-fat powdered milk. Our staples for lunch and dinner are pasta marinara (we make our own sauce from cans of tomato paste), rice and bean chili, refried beans on corn tostadas (flat tacos) or on tortillas, pasta and bean salad, tomato lentil soup with crackers, peanut curry pasta with canned tuna fish, and chicken tahini pasta, which with all the substitutions no longer has chicken or tahini. Of course, our meals change from place to place, and we are constantly having to substitute one ingredient for another, depending on what is available. For example, for some unknown reason, pasta in Belize was very expensive, so we used rice instead. In Bocas del Toro, Panama, we could not find tostadas, tortillas or peanut butter. Natural peanut butter (without hydrogenated oils) has been very hard to find. We even resorted to making our own in Guatemala using a hand-crank corn-meal grinder. Since Graham’s exploits with the oven, he has created a very excellent solution. Denatured alcohol when it is not pressurized in not explosive. So, Graham took an empty bean can and cut it in half to shorten it. We now fill the can with denatured alcohol, put it in the oven, light it, and viola! It works amazingly. It was then just a matter of figuring out the right size of can and the correct amount of fuel for the various things we bake. We can now bake fresh caught fish, scones, and home-made bread. What a treat! We are now even making home-made pizza when we are near a town where we can buy cheese. (It is sometimes hard in Latin America to find cheese that melts.) Graham was even able to bake an 8 pound whole turkey breast for our Thanksgiving feast with friends in Panama City. We have discovered vegetables that survive well in the tropical heat without refrigeration, such as chayote and other kinds of squash, carrots, cabbage, etc. While there are foods from the US that we miss, if we were back in the states, we would miss many of the foods that are available here. For example, a man in a kayuka in the Bluefield Range paddled up to our boat and sold us 3 fresh pineapples for 40 cents each. We’ve also tried many new fruits, such as jack fruit, sapotilla, anona (or sour sop), manzana de agua, which means water apple in Spanish (it tastes nothing like apple), and many others. All of these fruits taste nothing like any of the fruits in the states so we can’t begin to describe them. There are also over 20 different species of bananas, which range widely in their tastes. Some taste more like potatoes, while others taste like apples and some like vanilla. While at times, we have been limited in our food choices, we certainly have not been suffering from lack of good foods. 2008

From Bocas del Toro to Kuna Yala

2008-11-11T14:26:00.017-05:00

Needing to leave the country because our visas were expiring, we cleared out of Panama in Bocas del Toro on August 16th. Our destination was Cartagena, Columbia. We decided to pay one last visit to the Bluefield Range before setting off. We spent just under one week in the Bluefields enjoying muddy jungle hikes and friendly locals and Peace Corps volunteers. On August 23rd, we raised anchor and headed towards Escudo de Veraguas, a beautiful hard to reach island off the coast of Panama. We had been trying all week to get a weather forcast off our SSB (Single Side Band) radio. No one who could transmit was responding to the net controller, during the morning Panama cruisers´ net, so the net controller assumed no one was listening and opted not to give a weather forcast. Since our SSB radio is only a receiver, we were unable to transmit to the net controller to let her know we were there and were eagerly awaiting a weather forcast. We eventually gave up hope on hearing a prediction and decided to get underway and hope for the best. Outside the protected lagoon, we discovered 6 foot swells coming abeam (from the side) with no wind. These are not very pleasant sailing conditions. Since there was no wind, we motored as we rolled about from side to side. We decided to try listening to the SSB Panama cruisers´net one last time. Amazingly, they actually gave a weather forcast, 6-8 foot Northeast swell with little to no wind. The net controller then commented that there was no way she would venture out in such rough seas. We chuckled as we motored past numerous Ngobe indians, who had taken their dug-out canoes off-shore for a day of fishing and turtle hunting. We anchored at Escudo de Veraguas in the early afternoon and enjoyed a brief walk ashore. We had hoped to spend the following day exploring the island, but after a restless night at the uncomfortable and poorly protected anchorage, we decided to continue on. We planned to follow the Panama coastline to its northern edge near the city of Colón before cutting across to Cartagena. (The coastline of Panama soon beyond this point takes an S curve to the southeast.) Unfortunately the sailing conditions were no better than the day prior. We experienced 8 foot seas from the northeast and only had 5 to 8 knots of wind at our backs. We were wishing for stronger wind and that evening we got it. Unfortunately, the wind we got was right on our nose at 25 to 30 knots. That night we also witnessed an awesome (and yet terrifying) lazer light show from all of the numerous lightning storms surrounding us. The following morning, we decided to pull in to the well protected anchorage south of Isla Naranjo, a small uninhabited mangrove covered island several miles east of Colón. The calm smooth water and good holding mud bottom would provide us with a well needed rest. That night we awoke to a powerful lightning storm. The lightning was so close there was no time interval between the flashing bolts and the resonous thunder that vibrated the whole boat. We sat inside in silence, our hearts racing, hoping that it would pass without hitting us. After it passed (with no damage), we were deluged with rain. The rain persisted for the next 3 days. We bilged our dinghy and still collected enough water in the dinghy to wash all of our clothes, bedsheets, and towels. We reaccessed our plan. Perhaps we should continue along the coast of Panama and then up the coast of Columbia to reach Cartagena? This would allow us to sail during the day and then anchor at night. Plus we would get to visit some amazing places, such as Kuna Yala (named the San Blas by Spanish invaders), which is a nation of indigenous Kuna indians inside of Panama. The only problem was that we had cleared out of Panama almost 2 weeks prior and technically were supposed to have left the country. Would the port captain in Cartagena give us trouble if we arrived over 1 month after leaving Panama? We decided to take our chances with the authorities instead of with the weather. On July 29th, we left Isla Naranjo bound for a region within Kuna Yala known as the East Holandes Cays. We had much better sailing conditions for much of the trip, although at times the wind was very light. We made our approach through the coral reefs the following morning and anchored in an area known as ¨the Swimming Pool¨by the local cruising community. The Kuna indians originally inhabited the Darién mountains of what is today eastern Panama. During the time of the Spanish invasion, the Kunas moved to the Carribean coast and later to the offshore islands. In 1925, in defense of their land and culture, the Kunas revolted against Panamanian authorities, killing numerous Panamanian policemen, missionaries, and children of mixed blood living in the area. In 1938, Panama declared Kuna Yala its own nation with near autonomous rule. Technically Kuna Yala is still part of Panama, but it has its own government and its own laws. Today Kuna Yala consists of almost 200 nautical miles of Carribean coastline and hundreds of beautiful islands covered with palm trees and sandy beaches. The Kuna have established their own system of government that stresses communal ownership and discourages socio-economic divisions between citizens. During our visit, we observed no significant economic disparity between Kunas. The typical Kuna is quite poor by western standards, earning on average only $30 per month. We met a store owner on the island of Niadup, who told us he earned $600 per month. What was interesting is that he lives in a small (1-2 room) home made of bamboo walls and thatched roof just like everyone else in the community. He did not flash is wealth. He also told us that even though the Kuna only earned $30 per month, they never went hungry because they were able to harvest all of the food they needed from the surrounding jungle and ocean. They also barter for food and other materials.

A Columbian boat brings in materials to trade with the Kuna for coconuts.

The majority of islands in Kuna Yala, such as those in the East Holandes Cays, are uninhabited. Each island or group of islands is owned by a family. Members of the family take turns (usually spending one month) visiting the island and harvesting coconuts. These coconuts are used as currency and are traded with boats from Columbia bringing fabrics, flour, and other produced goods. A coconut is worth 20 to 25 cents. The Kuna women use the fabrics to sew amazingly elaborate designs called molas, which they then fashion into colorful blouses. They wrap strings of bright beads around their legs and arms arranging them into different patterns and designs. They also wear gold and silver jewelry in their pierced ears and noses. The Kunas are the second smallest peoples in the world (only the pygmies are smaller). While walking through towns and entering stores, we had to stoop down so as not to hit the thatched roofs and doorways. Unfortunately we did not take any photographs of the Kuna people, as photographs are discouraged and are actually forbidden in some communities.

While in Kuna Yala, we saw many albinos. Apparently albinism is quite common in Kuna Yala, as the population is small and the Kuna rarely marry with outsiders. Although the albinos suffer numerous medical problems and suffer from the burning tropical sun, they are respected and treated as equals amongst the Kuna.

We also saw a number of transvestites, and we were happy to learn that homosexuals and transvestites are openly accepted in the community. They are treated as equals and are permitted to have their own families. Often times the Kuna will give away one of their children to a sibling who is gay and unable to have his own child. We spent over a week in the East Holandes Cays enjoying the crystal clear blue water, snorkeling the beautiful coral reefs and walking on the white sand beaches. We then worked our way eastward, visiting the islands of Narganá, Coco Oeste, Niadup, Yauala, Playón Chico, Mamitupu, Uastupu, Isla Piños, and the town of Carreto on the mainland, as well as some other islands.

Sunset in Kuna Yala

Niadup, also called Ticantiqui, was by far our favorite island. This small village sees very few cruising boats and foreign tourists. The locals are very friendly and as we were walking through town we looked down to discover three little children clutching our hands and staring up at us. This island does not have any electricity. The houses are clustered together as a community and are surrounded by lush breadfruit trees. Early in the morning, the men paddle their dugout canoes (called ulus) to mainland where they harvest bananas, pineapples, and other plants from the jungle, or the men paddle (or sail) out to the reefs where they fish or dive for lobster, crab and turtles. These divers occassionally will free dive 60 feet to catch dinner! Throughout Kuna Yala we enjoyed eating the huge crabs, which had 6 inch bodies and 6 inch long legs on each side. Each crab costs between $1 and $3. While on Niadup, we were surprised to see several gringos walking through town. We went to meet them and learned they were from Houston, Texas. We had read that the Kunas had driven out all of the missionaries in 1925, so we were surprised to discover that these Texans were Baptist missionaries. They were quite friendly and had very kind intentions, but we were saddened to witness (in our opinion) the harm they were inflicting on the Kuna culture because of their misguided ways. The Baptists had brought all sorts of toys for the children, and the children were swarming outside the Baptist church playing with toy airplanes. It saddened us more to see that they were targeting the children. The Kuna are the most peaceful and happy culture we have so far encountered on the boat. These people do not need to be changed or their culture destroyed by western influences. It is also a catch 22, because as much as we gringos want to visit and witness their beautiful culture, we are also having our own impact by bringing in relative economic disparity with our expensive cruising yachts, electricity, western magazines, and western influences. It is therefore our responsibility not to exploit our relative wealth when we visit.

Our friends on "Fia" enter the anchorage

In Mamitupu, we met a few other cruising boats. David and Judy have been cruising the Carribean for 20 years aboard Fia, a 40 foot Endeavor. They were also headed to Cartagena and assured us that Columbia would not ask a single question about our having been checked out of Panama for so long. We enjoyed Dave and Judy´s company so much, we explored the rest of Kuna Yala with them.

Scrambling on the rocks with Dave and Judy from s/v "Fia"

One of the highlights of Kuna Yala was the rocky, metamorphic cliffs off of Carreto. WooHoo! Climbing! We found one overhanging wall which offered a number of bouldering problems. We also found a 30 foot clean sheer rock face that dropped straight down into 40 feet of water. We swam out to the rock in our climbing shoes and climbed. If we fell, no problem, we´d fall right down into the water. It was great to climb again for the first time in 6 months. After Carreto, we set sail for Zapsurro and the Columbian border. We had spent a month and a half in Kuna Yala and hadn´t seen a motorized land vehicle the entire time. We also had only seen 3 cucumbers and no other vegetables during our entire stay. I guess you take the good with the bad, and the serenity of Kuna Yala was definitely worth the compromise. July and August 2008

Bocas del Toro, Panama

2008-09-26T17:09:00.005-05:00

We hadn´t been on the hook more than a couple hours when an Argentinian sailor came up and told us that if we didn´t move our boat the Panamanian officials would charge us $100. This was not for anchoring in the path of the water taxis so much as that the taxi drivers would report our arrival to the port captain. If you do not check in the day of your arrival, you are fined $100 even if the port captain´s office is closed when you arrive. Alas, we moved, slept and then radioed in at 9am the following day to announce our "recent" arrival, so conveniently coordinated with their office hours. The Panamanian officials came aboard our boat for a routine inspection, which involved little besides inspecting to see if we had $175 on hand to add to their pockets. The Argentinian sailor, Lobo, and his Uruguayan wife, Erica, are sailmakers who live and cruise aboard their boat, Arenas, together with their 7 year old son, Juan. We mentioned to Lobo that we had been looking for a yankee headsail since our genoa was improperly fitted to our boat. Lobo stopped by, took a look at our sail plan, and suggested cutting our genoa and turning it into a yankee jib, rather than purchasing a brand new sail. He also took a look at our mainsail and staysail after we mentioned to him some problems we had been having with them. We decided to hire Erica and Lobo to do work on all 3 sails.

Juan flying a kite

Before they were able to work on our sails, due to scheduling, we took the opportunity to explore the area. We headed NW along the SW coast of Isla Colon (the island on which Bocas del Toro town is located). We stopped at a couple of calm, protected and serene bights filled with the sounds of birds, howler monkeys and the occasional kayak going by. The kayaks are dugout canoes of all sizes from 1/2 m by 3 m to larger ones up to 1.5 m wide to 10 m long! While the longer are moved by outboard engines, most are smaller and are still paddled. We relaxed, read, snorkeled and explored some trails heading into the surrounding jungle. Our next berth was Starfish Bay, where a mostly uninhabited beach runs a mile or two with overhanging palm trees (one of which has a phenomenal rope swing into the ocean which we hope to never be too old to enjoy). At Starfish Bay we met Paula and David camping in their tent by the beach. While young at heart, they are both in their mid-60s, still sleeping on the ground and living very healthy lives while they continue to fight for many environmental causes, which they have been doing persistently since the 1970s. It was in the 70s that David was hired by the United Fruit Company for environmental education and soon after that that the UFC fired him for doing his job so well! To this day he continues to study and to educate people about the toxic run-off from the banana company as well as (among other things) to study the ecological health of the coral reefs and fish population.

While the reef near Starfish Bay was unhealthy and dying, possibly due to the UFC, our next anchorage on the SW of Isla Colon lay beside a pristine, healthy and thriving reef. We spent the next day snorkelling and admiring the colorful labyrinth of reds, yellows and greens.

On May 19th,we returned to Bocas del Toro to meet up with Lobo and Erica and to do some much needed maintenance on Chandrika. We were extremely fortunate to have met Lobo and Erica and to have had the opportunity to have some much needed modifications made on our sails by such experienced and hardworking sailmakers. We now have a properly sized yankee-cut working jib, a hank on staysail (which originally had an improvised and poorly functioning roller-furling system), and we extended the life of our mainsail. Lobo and Erica allowed us to come aboard Arenas to watch and to learn the tricks of the trade.

While in Bocas del Toro, we also did some repair and maintenance work on the boat, as well as making some improvements. Most importantly, using white reinforced PVC fabric, we sewed ourselves an awning that rests over our boom while we are at anchor to provide some desperately needed relief from the burning tropical sun. We also designed it to serve as a rainwater collection system. The tap water in Bocas del Toro is not potable (even the locals do not drink it) and bottled water is over twice the price as we have encountered elsewhere in our travels through Central America. It being the rainy season, we are now able to collect more than we use. However, we worry about the many locals who live in small one or two room wooden shacks with either thatched or tin roofs. Do they run out of drinking water during the dry season? The cost of $5.50 for 20 liters of water seems prohibitively expensive for many in this area.

Additionally. the price of food on this island has been increasing dramatically. In the course of 2 months we have seen the cost of some food items increase as much as 50%! Because of Bocas del Toro is on an island and food arrives by boat from mainland Panama, rising fuel prices will have a significant impact on the lives of many in this area. We also wonder if food prices are due to gentrification and the increasing number of foreigners that are moving to the area.

On June 17th, Sue´s brother, Peter, arrived from the states for a 2 week visit. Peter was rather jetlagged and chose not to join us as we provisioned the boat for his visit. The following day after Peter came out of his hibernation, the three of us visited the Bocas del Toro branch of the Smithsonian Research Institute, where we saw various colorful indigenous frogs amd we talked with scientists about their ongoing marine research. Soon it was time to head out for some experiental learning of marine wildlife.

Our first stop was Zapotilla Cay Numero Uno. To get there we had to navigate through the treacherous Crawl Cay channel. The inaccurately charted and unmarked channel weaves for 2 nautical miles through submerged yet shallow coral reef patches. In our favor, we had excellent light for visibility, at least until the last half mile when a thick cloud moved in front of the sun. We exited the channel without any mishaps and set sail for the Zapotilla Cays. There anchorage behind the first island turned out to be very rolly as the northeast swells from Columbia quite commonly contradict the local currents and winds, causing Chandrika to sit with seas abeam. Fortunately, the uncomfortable motion did not bother Peter in the slightest. We went for a walk along the white sandy beach, being careful to stay below the high tide mark, as this island is a common turtle nesting area.

Zapotilla Cay

We continued on towards the Bluefield Range the following morning with good but light sailing winds. Once we were no longer in the protective lee of the Zapotilla Cays, we experienced the full effect of the 6 foot ocean swell hitting us abeam. Because this contradicted the light winds from astern, we soon resorted to motoring. What surprised us even more than the fact that Peter prefered to stay down below reading his dictionary instead of seeing the sights, was that with no sails up and motoring with seas abeam, Peter didn´t find this motion all that bothersome. For those unfamiliar with sailboats, these conditions cause one of the most uncomfortable motions that can best be described as being trapped inside of a washing machine. Were it either of us sitting down below reading, our faces would be pale green from seasickness. Why didn´t Sue inherit Peter´s lack of motion sickness? After a couple of uneventful squalls hit us, we reached the entrance to the lagoon into Bluefield Range, where we anchored in the first bay in front of Playa Raya.

The Bluefields is where we were first introduced to something that has unfortunately been persistent during our stay in Panama, begging and swindeling. That afternoon we went for a walk on the beach. On our way back, there was a man standing beside our dinghy clearly waiting for us. First he asked us if we had used the trail that goes across the peninsula to Playa Verde. We said we had not, but we were considering hiking it in the morning. ¨You have to pay to use the trail. Not very much money. Only $10 or $15. Since you are going to use it tomorrow, you can pay me now,¨ he said. ¨No, if we use it we will pay you in the morning,¨ Sue replied. We had no intention of paying him anything to use a public trail knowing the chance was highly likely he would keep the money for himself. ¨You need to pay for your walk on the beach today.¨ At this point, Graham was sick of the bloke and was pulling the dinghy into the water telling Sue and Peter that we needed to walk away and go back to the boat, which we did. The following day, guess what, the Ngobe indian paddled up to our boat with a pineapple we were happy to pay a buck for.

We also had another Ngobe gentleman paddle up to our boat in a small kayuka, a dugout wooden canoe. He informed us that he was a member of the Panamanian National Guard. ´In a dugout canoe?´, we thought to ourselves. He then said,¨You will need to pay to visit Punta Sirian.¨ Punta Sirian is the town just a short walk down the coast from Playa Raya. ¨It is not much. Only $15. Something to help the community.¨ Of course he wanted payment right then, and of course we refused.

Later that day, we hiked on the trail to Playa Verde, or so we thought. The path led us through dense jungle and up and down muddy, slippery slopes. The trail forked and we were uncertain which way to go. We picked one path and soon realized it was incorrect, so we turned around. Peter who was in the back, was now in the lead. The other path went down a hill and around a bend. Just as he was rounding the bend, Peter discovered the vegetation was not growing on firm ground, but over about 2 feet of muddy swamp (or as Peter liked to call it ¨Quick Mud.¨) While this type of experience happens quite commonly while walking around in the jungle in the middle of wet season, Peter did not find it nearly as entertaining as we did. We decided to retreat before the jungle followed us whole (or at least before it swallowed Peter). On our way back, we passed a few thatched homes where we asked directions to Playa Verde. An older woman showed us the way. She walked barefoot with great dexterity over the wet slippery logs. We were soon to follow suit. We found Playa Verde and walked through the small town along its single concrete path. We met a men there who mentioned the delicious oranges in the surrounding jungle. After returning to our dinghy on the other side of the slippery, muddy, log-covered trail, we saw him following us, carrying a large bag of oranges that he had collected for us. ¨Regalo¨ (which means ´gift´), he said. We sat with him and ate our oranges and shared some carrots we had brought. How nice of him to collect the oranges for us and to walk all that way to bring them!

Our next adventure was further inside the Bluefield Range lagoon, where we dropped anchor outside a small village called Punta Allegre. Upon arrival we were immediately approached by a group of school aged children in kayukas. ¨¿Qué hay?,¨ they demanded. As this translates to ¨What is there?¨, Sue was at first confused. We had only just arrived. How did we know what there was here? It did not take long to realize what they meant. They wanted to know what we had brought for them. ¨Notebooks? Pens? Pencils?,¨ they asked. Well, even if they were rudely begging, at least they had their priorities straight. We gave them a choice. They could each have one pen or one pencil. Upon receiving one, without even saying thank you, they then demanded the other. Realizing we were not going to give them another pen or pencil, they wanted to know what else we had on board. Then they started to lay it on thick. ¨Tengo hambre,¨ (´I am hungry,´) one girl pouted while putting on her best starving puppy dog face. We glanced at the fish, lying in the kayukas, that they had just caught. These were young con artists at work. It was difficult to get rid of them, but finally they gave up their act and left for home.

the kids who told us they had nothing to eat

A little while later a middle-aged man approached us in a kayuka. He said, ¨Buenos dias¨ and introduced him as the mayor. His name was Orlando Hooker. He told us that there were different classes of people here. Some just wished to benefit from our visit. He told us of a man by the name of David, who used to charge sailboats $20 per night to anchor in the Bluefields. David used to put $15 in his pocket and give the remaining $5 to the community. Orlando had arrested him for fraud. Orlando told us not to give anyone money. It was free for us to explore the land, as all the land here is public and owned by the community Ngobe elders. He wished us a good visit and continued on his way.

We visited the small town of Punta Allegre with its approximately 200 residents. All of the inhabitants of the Bluefield Range are indigenous Ngobe indians. During WWII a number of Americans also used to live here, but they have since left the area, leaving behind only their last names, Hooker, Johnson, Smith, etc, and their bright blue eyes. The village had one store, a small elementary school and numerous one or two room thatched-roof homes. The insides of these homes are typically one open room with one mattress (shared by an entire family) against the side, dirt floors, and clothing along with their few other material possessions pushed up along the walls as there is no other furniture or cabinetry. Chickens, pigs and goats roam around freely often wandering inside their homes.

the town of Punta Allegre

The three of us wandered through town, crossed a small stream that split right through the middle and continued along a muddy path into the jungle. The surrounding forest contains numerous banana trees of several different varieties, bamboo, and many other plants that the Ngobe cultivate and use to build their homes and kayukas and to collect for food. There is no private property here. All of the land is communal and is shared by everyone.

Later that afternoon, while Peter was relaxing and reading on the boat, we went to shore to stretch our legs. We were approached by a young woman, named Loreica, who asked us where the third member of our party was. She turned out to be the daughter of the mayor, Orlando Hooker (one of his approximately 60 children). Upon discovering that Peter was Sue´s brother and not her husband, Loreica was delighted. She was further excited to hear that Peter was single. ¨Quiero un gringo!¨ (´I want a gringo!´) she yelled with glee. She said she found Peter very attractive and asked if we would bring him by later to introduce them. We brought him by later that day, but could not find Loreica.

Loreica was on the hunt for a gringo as she came up to our boat that evening in her kayuka. Though not the ideal dating situation with his sister translating every word, it was soon deciphered that Loreica, who enjoys fresh sea turtle on a regular basis and saw nothing wrong with her father´s killing (and eating) off the entire Howler population on the peninsula, was not the best match for a vegan gringo. She told us how the fisherman go out early to hunt the endangered and actively protected turtle so as not to get caught by the vigilantes (care takers). As Peter and Loreica struggled for common ground, we learned how the Howler monkey meat is eaten to cure nose bleeds. This ¨date¨ was at least entertaining, and Loreica is very fun to talk with as she has a happy and energetic spirit. (We later heard a first-hand account of turtle hunting from a gringo that we met. Apparently the Ngobes go out of sight of land in sometimes 10 to 12 foot seas in their paddled wooden kayukas. The Ngobe at the bow stands in the kayuka and harpoons turtle at a range of 20 to 30 feet. Amazing!)

Loreica in her kayuka

Turning 180 degrees, we made a stop-over at Cayo de Agua. The anchorage was rolly and the coast was littered with No Trespassing signs. Just a year ago, the 20 Ngobes who shared ownership of the island were holding a meeting with a broker regarding selling a large portion of the island. As is custom with such meetings, the broker offered them drinks, which were not refused. Quickly, as is typical of people of Native American blood, the alcohol hit strong and it wasn´t long before they were all well intoxicated. When the socializing was over and the negotiating began, the broker threw them a low-ball figure of $100,000 for the 100 hectars (approximately 250 acres). The eyes of the Ngobes bulged out at all those zeros and they accepted this ridiculously low offer. The following week the Ngobes paddled over to the island to harvest coconuts as they had been doing for generations. When they reached the island, they were told that they were no longer allowed to set foot on the property as they had signed over ownership. Apparently, at the time of the negotiations, the Ngobe were not fully aware that selling the land would prohibit their ability to use the land, as ownership and private property are not part of Ngobe culture. The property is now being subdivided into lots. It would not surprise us if this property were split into 100 parts, each selling for at least as much as the entire purchase price. History is known to repeat itself and events like these are no exception to the harsh reality.

As the bulk of Cayo del Agua is now private, we were not permitted to explore very much of the land. We decided to go for a row around the northern point which was semi-protected by reef. The swells were getting big and there were breakers in the distance so we finally decided to turn around. We were being cautious some might say, yet after 5-10 minutes of heading back, Sue and Graham are looking up at a 7 to 8 foot wave breaking over Peter´s head. Amazingly, the dinghy did not flip! But, it was filled about 3/4 full with sea water and the dinghy was now very tipsy because of it. As the water sloshed back and forth in the dinghy, more water came in. We were sinking. We all jumped out. We flipped the dinghy over and then righted it, in an attempt to get water out, but to little success. Unfortunately, not all of our possessions floated, and we lost three masks, three snorkels and a speargun. The flippers however floated and we put those on. While Sue guided the boat away from the rocky shore, Graham bailed the dinghy. After all land is the enemy (though Peter at the time begged to differ). We were thankful for the extra 100 pounds of flotation we had added to our dinghy and once it was empty, we all got in. Peter, who just days prior was not able to get into the dinghy from the water, had no trouble hopping in. We rowed back to Chandrika without a scratch. This was one of those waves that only breaks once every half hour or so, and it is possible this was the first breaker at this spot since we arrived near the reef. Although, we also had a number of thoughts in retrospect. First of all, Graham was rowing, Sue was in the bow, and Peter was in the stern. This meant that as we rowed towards the reef, he was the only one with a constant view of where we were going. We should have put him on designated watch. Secondly, though it goes entirely against instinct, we should have jumped out of the dinghy immediately with the painter (dinghy rope) in hand, thereby eliminating any more water from entering and raising the waterline on the dinghy by about a value of 500 pounds of bouyancy. This would have made recovery easier.

Our view of the coast right before being swamped

After an adventure packed two weeks, it was time for Peter to return home. We sailed back to Bocas del Toro so he could catch his flight. Between the ´quick mud´ and the swamped dinghy, we hope we haven´t scared away Peter from a return visit. Perhaps we can lure him back with more eligible bachelorettes? We always cherish visits from family and friends, and it was wonderful to be able to spend such close time with Peter.

enjoying a meal on the boat

The night after Peter departed, we were harshely awoken by a flash of blinding white and a simultaneous loud thunderous boom. We jumped out of bed to turn off all switches and unplug anything that could be unplugged. After an hour of nail-biting, nerve-wracking waiting, the lightning storm passed without hitting us. There is nothing like sitting in an endless pool of water (the ocean) with a tall metal rod rising up 54 feet in the air during a lightning storm to make the heart start racing. The following morning, we turned on the laptop (to update the blog). It turned on, but was making all sorts of funny noises. The next time we tried to start it, it would not start. Even though the laptop was unplugged and turned off through the entire lightning storm, the charge from the nearby lightning still put it out of service. We now keep both hand-held GPS, our portable SSB radio, and our MP3 player in the over to create a metal cage to protect from lightning. As we continue cruising, we learn more and more lessons. This one was learned the hard way. May to July, 2008

Panama Bound

2008-07-04T11:12:00.006-05:00

Our next destination was Panama, where we planned to spend the upcoming Carribean hurricane season. Being south of 11 degrees N latitude, Panama is generally considered to be a safe area, free from dangerous hurricane activity. To reach Panama from Guanaja, we would have to sail eastward for 208 nautical miles (nm) to round the corner of mainland Honduras before heading south towards Panama. We were not looking forward to sailing straight into the winds and waves for such a long distance, especially considering the fact that our oversized genoa with its high clew could not be sheeted flat enough to allow us to make decent progress to windward. We decided to wait for a cold front to pass through (the same northerlies we were hit by in Isla Mujeres). Unfortunately, towards the end of spring these fronts rarely make it as far south as the Bay Islands. As luck would have it, on April 29th a weak cold front approached the Bay Islands causing the winds to shift ever so slightly northwards. With 10 knots of wind and calm seas, we set sail at a close reach on a port tack, headed directly on course. Cayo Vivorillo, a small uninhabited island owned by Honduras, lay directly on our route, 150 nm from Guanaja. We had planned to anchor here as a resting spot on our journey. However, we reached this small cay shortly after dark on our second day at sea. Not wanting to make an approach at night, or to wait out at sea all night and approach in the day, we decided to continue on our way. Furthermore, the wind was still coming lightly from the NE, allowing us favorable conditions to continue. Because the ocean had been so calm, we were well rested and enjoying the sailing. Hey this is Squeak. Let me give my point of view. This passage was great! None of that loud obnoxious vibrating engine. And every few hours these humans, who I have wrapped around my little claw, came down to snuggle with me. After I had had my fill of snuggles and love, I´d allow them to sleep so they´d be rested to take watch while the other one would come down for more snuggles and love. Not only that, but since I don´t feel like going up to my food bowl while we are underway, I got them to bring me fresh food and water every few hours. 20nm past Cayo Vivorillo with only 30nm to go before we could safely turn southward, the wind switched to the east. With the wind being directly at our nose and being so light, it took us the next 24 hours to tack back and forth and to go the remaining 30 nm. Even though progress was slow, we could not complain about the calm seas. As we continued eastward, the winds gradually shifted southward. Late in the day on May 1st, we finally were able to turn to the south, having rounded the cape of Honduras (appropriately named by Christopher Columbus, ¨Cabo Gracias a Dios¨ or ¨Thank God Cape¨) and her miles of east lying coral reefs and shoals. Unfortunately as the wind had been shifting more and more southward, by the time we turned, the wind was still at our nose. While this made for slow progress, the upside is that at this point of sail, Chandrika completely steers herself, so we were able to relax and to read while on watch. From this point onwards, the winds were light and variable. Occassionally, we would experience light 5 to 10 knot easterly trade winds, but as we worked our was further and further south, the winds had almost disappeared. Hey its me again. While these guys bore you with all the details of the winds and seas, let me tell you the highlight of the trip. While I was stretched out relaxing on the starboard settee, a bird flew into the cabin. This bird thought he was hot stuff, flying in the companionway right over my head and then out the port side hatch, so I decided to let him go, build up his confidence a little. A couple minutes later when I was doing a little yoga on the settee, he came back in through the companionway. He was no match for me. I barely even had to move. I just reached out a paw and took him down. This bird was no fun. He didn´t even squirm. He just played dead. Birds aren´t all they are cracked up to be. I think I´ll stick with roaches. During the night of May 3rd, we passed Isla Providencia and Isla San Andres. These two islands are owned by Columbia and make a good stopping point along the route from Honduras to Panama. We decided not to make a stop since we had heard that checking in is very costly, we were still well rested and enjoying the passage and we had reached them at night and would have had to wait until morning to make our approach. The conditions from this point southward were light and sometimes nonexistent winds punctuated by brief and occassionally heavy squalls. Fortunately we had a favorable one knot current to carry us on our way. For the most part the seas were flat. However, neighboring squalls would kick up localized swells. Since we were outside the winds of the squalls, there would be no wind to fill the sails, and the waves would cause the sails to slap and to flutter, a nerve wracking condition that made us worry about the wear and tear on the sails and rigging. We would take down the sails, then watch and wait for the squall to approach. Once the squall reached us, we would pull out the appropriate canvas and resume sailing. During one exhilerating squall, we were able to sail at a speed of 8 knots, but it only lasted 20 minutes. Then we were back to sitting and waiting, again with no wind. Becalmed again. At noon on May 7th, we were only 14 miles from our destination, Bocas del Toro, Panama. Because we still had almost no wind, we calculated that if we were to continue sailing, we would reach land in the dark. At this point, the seas had also risen and we were experiencing 8 foot seas with no wind. In this region of Panama, it is not uncommon for the seas to be high, as the swell come from distand Cartagena, Columbia, with little to no wind. High seas accompanied by light winds is one of the more uncomfortable conditions for a small sailing vessel. There is not enough wind to fill the sails, and the swells cause the sails and the boom to bang back and forth. After having been able to sail the entire distance from Honduras (about 600 nm) without having to motor, we decided to use the engine the last 14 miles, guaranteeing our approach into the harbor in daylight. At 3:40pm on May 7th, we dropped anchor in the harbor beside Bocas del Toro, Panama, after having spent 9 days and 8 nights at sea.

May 2008

Bay of Islands, Honduras

2008-06-11T15:02:00.007-05:00

Roatan is home to diverse ethnicities and cultures including decendents of Garifuna (those of African and Carib Indian decent who survived or escaped the historic slave trade), Hondurans from the mainland, and whites from the US and Europe who now live on the island both seasonally and full-time. Check in was stream-lined, simple, and most amazingly of all, Free!

We spent a few days in Coxen Hole, the capital of Roatan, attempting in vain to get some errands done. The island is constantly out of power and even ordinary provisions are often our of stock. After a few frustrating days of roaming around the town searching fruitlessly for an internet cafe with electricity, a functioning ATM, or even canned beans...., we decided we were much happier hanging out on the boat, while awaiting the arrival of Steve and Myra (Graham's dad and "step-mother").

Steve and Myra arrived safely in Roatan. The following day, March 29th, we headed east, giving them a harsh introduction to the strong (30 knot) trade winds and high seas of the Northwest Carribean. The wind and waves were at our nose, and we began trying to beat our way to Calabash Bight (also on Roatan). Shortly en route Steve commented, "It feels like we are riding a bucking bronco through a car wash," as the waves crashed over our bow and streamed down the deck. We were torn as to whether or not to motor or to keep sailing. In the midst of making this decision, Steve (while leaning over the rail and barfing his brains overboard) said, "Don't make your decision on my account. Blah.... I'm fine! Blah...." If this was not reason enough, our extremely slow progress convinced us to turn on the engine. We were impressed by Steve being such a good sport, despite feeling so ill, as he refered to this experience as "Bolemia Bootcamp." Myra, on the other hand, was complete soaked from head to foot and happy as could be. She must have natural salt in her blood.

Myra soaking up the salt

Upon arriving in the calm and protected waters of Calabash Bight, on the eastern side of Roatan, we had the pleasure of catching up with our friends, Mark and Lori on sailing vessel Aeolus, who we'd first met in the Dry Tortugas, and met up with in Isla Mujeres, Mexico and then again outside Belize City. Mark and Lori have recently moved to Roatan and intend to do some extended cruising through the Carribean while keeping Roatan as a home base. They are starting up a bed and breakfast, as well as providing some general services to cruisers. Anyone interested in learning more or possibly visitin the area should check out their website, http://www.turtlegrass.net/. Mark and Lori were amazing hosts, taking the four of us on a tour through the mangrove passages that line the eastern side of Roatan.

Lori

Mark

The wind and waves had only slightly subsided, but on April 2nd, we motored eastward towards the Pigeon Cays (two small islands surrounded by an elaborate system of coral reefs lying between the islands of Roatan and Guanaja). The Pigeon Cays made for a rough one night anchorage from which we then continued to the island of Guanaja. The approaches into the Pigeon Cays and Guanaja were excellent examples of why it is important to approach land in good light and to trust your vision more than following the inaccurate charts for this region. If we had followed the charts, we most certainly would have run aground on hard coral reef, lying submerged only a few feet below the water.

Guanaja

Guanaja isa large (4 mile x 11 mile) island, 90% of which is protected and undeveloped land. Extending beyond Guanaja is a large coral reef encompassing a number of smaller islands with great snorkeling and well protected anchorages. At one of these smaller islands, named Josh's Cay, we were accompanied by a very friendly dolphin that swam circles around our boat. Much to our surprise, he was still there the following day. He was easily identifiable by 3 white scars on the left side of his dorsal fin. He was far from tame, but for some reason had a tendency to stay near our boat. After having him accompany us at 3 separate anchorages, we named him "Tag". As soon as Myra laid her eyes upon Tag, she was in love. We think if she could have, she would have brought him home.

Myra on "Dolphin Watch"

Tag

Steve and Myra were excellent boat guests. They adapted well to the slow pace and simple living, enjoyed relaxing on the boat and swimming in the warm Carribean water. We were soon headed back to Roatan. Our sail westward was beautiful and pleasant with the wind and waves abaft. Oh my, what a difference it makes! To our delight and especially Myra's, we were accompanied by numerour dolphins, playing at our bow. Goodbyes are hard, but soon that time approached us as it always does. The hardest thing about cruising has been missing family, as well as saying goodbye to those friends we've met along the way, simply not knowing when we will meet again, but hoping it will be soon.

Steve adapting to the cruising life

After Steve and Myra left, we went back to Calabash Bight to spend time with Mark and Lori. We enjoyed having time to relax and enjoy their company while waiting for a good weather window to continue eastward and return to Guanaja. With Mark's help, we were able to fix our wind generator. Amazingly we were even able to find the bearings that we needed in Coxen Hole! Our appreciation of their generosity can not be put into words.

From our experience with Steve and Myra, we had learned not to fight the strong easterly trades. We decided to wait for them to ease in intensity or for a northerly front to come in, temporarily shifting the wind direction. On April 24th, the eastern trade winds were light, at 10-15 knots, and we set sail. This time we anchored for one night behind Punta Castillo near the city of Trujillo on mainland Honduras. The following day we sailed to Guanaja. The sailing was extremely pleasant and idealic. One of our favorite things about Chandrika is how easily she sails. Especially when sailing close-hauled (very close towards the direction of the wind), she often sails herself. Even without using an autopilot, we have often let her sail for hours without touching the wheel. Unfortunately, however, she does not sail very close to the wind. We have discovered that this problem is not from her hull design, but rather from her improperly fitted genoa head sail, which is too large and the clew too high for the boat. This sail also presents us with problems in stronger winds (20-30 knots of apparent wind), as we do not have an appropriately sized working jib.

We arrived in Guanaja on April 25th and spent the next few days relaxing, hiking in the mountains on the island, and visiting our dear friend Tag. April 2008

From Guatemala to Honduras

2008-06-01T16:15:00.005-05:00

One of the final highlights of Guatemala was Finca Paraiso. With our friend, Jesse, from Xela, himself a wandering tourist, we got to experience the cool pools and hot waterfalls (heated by the hotspring above). Not fully mixed, the water ranged in temperature from approximately 70 to 160 degrees F. Below were underwater caves stretching 20 to 80 feet back which we explored, as well as some aboce water caves still heated by the thermals and inhabited by a slightly unnerving number of bats (100s maybe 1000s). Jesse joined us for an overnight stay and motor/sail out the Rio Dulce, as we began our departure from Guatemala. Check out went smooth and we were soon out to sea once more. Our destination was Roatan in the Bay Islands of Honduras, which lay some 120 nautical miles eastward. The trade winds in this region blow straight out of the east and are customarily 20-30 knots (23-35 mph). We were not looking forward to tacking our way back and forth with our bow crashing into oncoming swell, but had the morale to do so. Luckily this morale never needed to be tested as the forcasted light easterly winds turned out to be light westerlies. Initially the winds were far too light (so light they were practically nonexistent) as we slowly bobbed around with the current carrying us towards Roatan. Worthy of mention, during our patience-testing drift eastward (moving at a speed of 1 knot) were two 4-5 foot long fish (no fisherman's exageration) that swam behind our boat seeking shade under her hull. We tried every lure and bait we had available but to no avail. In desperation, Graham leaned over Chandrika's stern (with Sue holding on to his leg) trying a speargun / gaff hook combination. The plan failed when the spear (shot point blank) ricocheted off the fish's skull, leaving no time for a quick gaff.

after a brief squall

The westerlies soon increased to a beautiful 5-10 knots abaft (from behind) and we were on our way. Overall we had excellent weather with the exception of one light squall. Towards the end of our voyage, the wind eventually shifted to the east, but they stayed light allowing for slow but comfortable sailing. We arrived in Coxen Hole, Roatan on March 24th (3 days and 2 night after leaving Guatemala). March 2008

Climbing in Cerro Quemado

2008-04-17T18:50:00.016-05:00

Our second journey to inland Guatemala brought us to Cerro Quemado (meaning "Burnt Hill"), an outcropping of volcanic rock located just outside Guatemala's second largest city, Quetzaltenango (aka Xela). We were eager to do some rock climbing, since we had not done any climbing for five months, since climbing in the gym in Miami. The climbs at Cerro Quemado vary in length from 50 to 150 feet and vary in difficulty from 5.8 to 5.13, with most routes being in the 5.11 range. Most of the routes are fairly steep and technical sport climbs. It was wonderful to move over stone again, and we were pleasantly surprised by how natural it felt.

Cerro Quemado

climbing at last

Cerro Quemado is the most unique and strange place we have ever climbed, or have ever visited for that matter. Hundreds of fundamentalist evangelical pilgrims arrive each day from all over Guatemala and even from other countries in Central America to pray, to soak in the spiritual aura of the mountainous, rocky peak, and to speak directly to their god. Graham refers to their experience as "spiritual brainwashing." The vast majority of Central Americans consider themselves either Catholic, Evangelical, or one of the numerous indigenous American religions. However we have noticed the lack of definite borders between these religious denominations and have observed a vast spectrum of different religions resulting from the fusion of western Christianity, Mayan tradition and local beliefs.

While at Cerro Quemado, we observed Mayans in traditional dress carrying colorful bouquets of flowers and more modernly dressed mestizos lugging five foot tall speakers on their backs up the steep trail in order to blast various Christian songs while they sang and prayed. From before dawn until after dusk, the air was filled with the sounds of people chanting, moaning, wailing, and screaming in a disharmonious mix, combined with singing and upbeat, almost mariachi-sounding disco music. The voices and music came from around thirty or forty small outcroppings throughout the mountaintop, as different groups prayed in separate locations in either Spanish or one of the twenty different Mayan languages found in Guatemala. Moving from one area to another, one might hear five to ten of these different groups at any given moment. There was virtually no stop to these sounds, which resonated through the mountainside. It varied from day to day; although, typically it was only quiet from about 2am to 5am. One morning, however, we were awoken at 3am to the screaming voices of our neighbors, who were camping under a palapa (an open thatched or sometimes tin-roofed shade structure). One of our neighbors was performing an exorcism on his friend.

arriving at Cerro Quemado

mucha musica

chanting

jamming in prayer

All of those who we met and with whom we spoke were incredible friendly and kind. Their time praying and being in the beauty of this mystical landscape, with clouds rolling down its jagged peaks and spilling into the valley below, gave these people a sense of elation and happiness which was contagious amongst themselves and to us. Knowing the importance and sanctity of this place to these people, along with our witness of the enormous amount of trash thrown everywhere by these people, confirms that this culture lacks even the slightest environmental awareness. For example, they would leave beautiful flower arrangements, as an offering to their god, in cut-off non-biodegradable 2 liter Pepsi bottles. During the four days and three nights we stayed at Cerro Quemado, we were entertained by the behaviors and customs of these people and in turn we served as entertainment for them. It was not uncommon while we were climbing to turn around and see a small group of onlookers gathering at the base of our climb, watching us. Looking down at groups further away, we noted that we were often distracting them from their prayers. On one occassion, we asked a small group of Guatemalans if they would like to try climbing. Two of them accepted, a young highschool aged boy and an evangelical pastor in his early thirties, dressed in his Sunday best. The pastor was a natural, while the young teen appearing equally fit, struggled on the opening moves. With little interest beyond getting high on the cliff face, the teen climbed up the rope until his fear got the better of him. They were very appreciative of the opportunity, and as we go our separate ways, both us and them walk a little more culturally aware than before.

The summit marker that appeared during our stay. Was this intended for us? Or just for Americans in general?

March 2008

The Cays and Reefs of Belize

2008-04-01T16:46:00.011-05:00

Fishermen outside of Belize City

Dolphins swimming beside Chandrika under sail

It was due time for deeper exploration into Belize's islands and surrounding coral reefs. Our first stop after leaving Placencia was Lark Cay. While rowing to a coral reef next to a nearby island, we were called ashore by the locals who lived there. This unnamed island held a population of 3 and 1/2. The island was apparently owned by an American, who had hired Clayton to work the land, clearing and filling with plans to develop it into a tourist retreat. Accompanying Clayton was his 17 year old pregnant (hence the half person) wife, Shamra, and their little 1-1/2 year old daughter, Kilanie. They invited us over for a delicious lunch of rice, beans and fried fish, the typical local cuisine. It was pleasant to receive such open hospitality by the locals rather than being seen as either a source of income or a nuisance, the common view of foreign tourists.

A half days sail north was Crawl Cay where we met up with our friend, Doug, on Serendipity, who we had met in Placencia. Doug introduced us to the art and practice of spearfishing. Sue caught us dinner and was hooked on the sport. Graham with his catch of Grouper

We were tracking our way north with plans to renew our visas in Dangriga (having been in Belize for almost 30 days) on our way to Belize City to meet up with Graham's mom, Chrissy, and his Uncle Chuck (aka Uncle Fun). Dangriga, however, was found to be an open roadstead, meaning that its coastline was exposed to the prevailing winds and built up seas. A dangerous row ashore combined with strong easterly trades and an expiring visa, left us with no other choice than to continue sailing to Belize City.

A few days later on January 23rd, we picked up Chrissy and Chuck at the airport in Belize City. Chrissy and Chuck were to be our first overnight guests. Their new experience with life at sea would begin gently with a short and easy motor ride to Robinson Island, where we spent the night at a calm anchorage. The following morning, we sailed with pleasant 10-15 knot NE winds under full canvas (with all sails up) to Colson Cay. We spent the afternoon and the whole next day snorkelling, spearfishing, spending time together, and playing lots of bridge.

The rhythm of cruising is generally slow and highly reflective of the wind, waves and weather. Some people make plans more than others on a boat, as on land, but on a boat sticking to plans is ignorant and sometimes dangerous. Learning to pay attention to the elements and dance with them and not even saying "We'll go to Tobacco Cay tomorrow," was an attitude very contradictory to the American land-based life that Chrissy and Chuck were used to. We had been on the boat for a few days and had worked our way south to Tobacco Cay. Chrissy and Chuck had adapted well to the boat but were ready to step ashore and stretch out the legs.

Chrissy and Chuck adapting to "Boat Life"

Tobacco Cay sits on the barrier reef yielding beautiful views of crashing waves, transitioning the seas from 10 feet to 2 feet or less. We enjoyed good eats and snorkeling here and prepared for our return trip to Belize City. Our trip was filled with laughs and good times and good conversation. It was nice to share this lifestyle with family. We also enjoyed educating them and making them a little saltier. The love for family is a void which can never be filled and as we travel the seas, these visits are priceless.

Dropping sail at sunset

January 2008

Rio Dulce, Guatemala and El Mirador

2008-03-08T17:42:00.026-05:00

Upon entering Guatemala, we checked in with customs and immigration in Livingston. We gave the officials hoards of money for them to stuff in their personal wallets, as is typical of these beaurocratic systems we call governments. We stayed in Livingston for the night and in the morning motored 25 miles up the river, known as the Rio Dulce (meaning Sweet River in spanish). The river narrowed as we entered into a steep walled gorge with a few exposed limestone cliffs. The river was full of Guatemalan men and boys paddling canoes while fishing.

The Rio Dulce in Guatemala

We moored the boat (and are now docked) at a marina near the town of Fronteras. The marina provided us with a safe place to leave the boat, allowing us to explore inland. We decided to visit El Mirador, the first Mayan city ever to be constructed, which holds numerous magnificent temples including the largest ever to have been built (235 feet tall). The ruins of El Mirador date from the early PreClassic period (1500 - 1000BC) but most are from the late PreClassic period when the city flourished (150BC to 150AD). These ruins were not rediscovered until 1926 and very few people have even heard of El Mirador, including the Guatemalans themselves. Fewer still ever visit the ruins due to their remote location.

In the afternoon on Wednesday, March 27th, we took a bus from Fronteras heading north to Santa Elena (outside of Flores). We spent the night in a disgusting hotel in Santa Elena. In the morning we caught a micro (a small bus) to San Andres. On the micro, we met the father of a Guatemalan archeologist. We met the archeologist in San Andres and told him of our desire to find the ruins of El Mirador without a guide. He placed a call to Carmelita, the small town where the trail begins, and spoke with the local who has assisted the archeologists with their work for the last 30 years. From San Andres, we began hitch hiking north on the dirt road to Carmelita. Due to the color of our skin, it was difficult to get a ride. We started walking. Our first hitch was only a few kilometers in which we stood on the back bumper of a pickup truck to the edge of town. Our second hitch was more fruitful, bringing us 30km closer to Carmelita. We rode in the back of a pickup truck with one other hitchhiker, and we picked up a couple more en route. The truck stopped in a small village with a school right beside the road. It being Guatemala, where the school children seem to always be on recess, the place was swarming with kids. Moments later there were forty small children staring at us with large, open eyes of curiosity. They seemed to be fascinated by anything and everything about us. We needed to find something to break the ice and to make them laugh. Sue had the idea of taking a blade of grass, placing it between the first and second joints of both thumbs, and making a whistle that sounds more like a dying duck. Graham was soon making all sorts of loud, funny sounds, and the children were bursting with laughter. They were continually staring at both of us with fascination as we kept making these strange noises. To further the entertainment, Graham started to dance to the tunes, and the children erupted in giggles. Sue asked in Spanish, "May I take your photograph?" They didn't really respond, so Sue whipped out her camera. Immediately, about thirty-five kids turned on their heels, and ran away at full speed, screaming as they went. We hung out and played with the ones who remained and the few who returned, while we waited for cars to pass by this deserted road, as we hoped to find another ride.

School children during their full day "recess"

A logging truck was parked nearby. They spent about 2 hours fixing the breaks; afterwhich, the driver offered us a ride. We road another 10km to the next village in the front cab of the semi. In the next village, we sat and cooked a lunch of peanut curry pasta before catching our fourth and final ride in the back of a pickup truck that took us the remaining 20km to Carmelita. We were dropped off in the center of Carmelita in front of a guide agency offering guided trips with mules to El Mirador. We tried asking directions to the trailhead but quickly realized that it was as fruitless as asking directions from a cab driver, whose sole objective is to make business. The guide agency discouraged us from trying to go on our own and told us we would get lost. However, we still refused their services, as it cost more money than we had brought with us, but more importantly it went against our style and prefered method of travel. The gentleman, Brijido Perez, in Carmelita who had received a phone call from the archeologist was awaiting our arrival. He saw us at the guide agency and came over to introduce himself. He suggested that we go to his place and spend the night. Once at his place, we discussed with him the logistics of hiking in alone. The entire trail to El Mirador is about 60km and passes by many other ruins, including two former Mayan settlements, called La Florida and El Tintal. He agreed that we would be able to follow the trail on our own, but suggested that we hire a local to show us the way to La Florida (about 10km) as the trail had numerous branches. From there we would hike on our own. He introduced us to his friend, Jose Luis, who agreed to walk us to La Florida in the morning.

Graham, Sue and Brijido

At 6am on Friday, March 29th, we met Jose Luis and began our hike. The trail to El Mirador was fairly flat with only a few hills. The difficulty lay in the condition of the trail. It was filled with numerous, deep mule tracks formed in the wet season. It now being the dry season, the broken up ground had hardened and provided very difficult and painful walking. By the end of the trail, it felt as if someone had taken a meat tenderizer and had repeatedly pounded it on the underside of our feet.

following the mule tracks

The tropical forest through which we walked was filled with plants and wildlife. Most of the locals in the area, including our guide, Jose Luis, earn their living by collecting the green, leafy fronds of the xate plant, which is exported to the US and Europe for the greenery in flower arrangements. None of the xate collectors we met knew what the plant was used for, and the man who purched it from them either refused to tell them its use or did not know himself. The xate collectors earn about 25 cents for collecting 70 fronds, which must be in perfect condition. Many xate collectors also harvest the sap of the sapodilla tree, which is used to produce chicle, an ingredient in chewing gum.

Upon reaching La Florida, we said goodbye to Jose Luis. We met the vigilantes, or caretakers, that watched over the ruins of La Florida, protecting them from looting. To our surprise, we learned it is also part of their job to ensure that hikers do not get lost in the forest. A vigilante, named Jesus, decided to accompany us on the next leg of the trip (about 14km) to El Tintal. We reached El Tintal in the early afternoon, which gave us time to rest and to explore its ruins. The ruins of El Tintal have not yet been excavated, so we mostly looked at mounds of earth covered with trees and other foliage. However, we did see many trenches dug by looters into the sides of numerous tombs. We also hiked to the top of the main pyramid and from there we could see El Mirador in the distance.

We hung out with the vigilantes at El Tintal, who provided us with rain water to drink, and we spent the night in our tent under a thatched roof structure. Jesus asked us if we would like him to accompany us to El Mirador, but we declined his kind offer. In the morning, we set off alone to El Mirador. We were given general directions to stay to the right if we came to an intersection; although, on two occassions our instincts told us to stay left, which turned out to be the correct route. Most of the trail followed an old Mayan road, which due to the thick vegetation and overlying dirt was difficult to notice. The road bed rose up about four feet high and was approximately fifty to sixty feet wide. After about 8 hours of hiking, we reached the entrance to the National Park in which El Mirador is located. It was here that we saw our first excavated Mayan ruins, which dated to the early preClassic period. These ruins, known as El Grupo La Muerta (aka the Death Group), consisted of a pyramid temple beside a former stone residence. We were able to crawl inside the residence and see the interior sleeping quarters.

the residence of El Grupo La Muerta

We then continued on to El Mirador, which was another 45 minutes of walking. Upon reaching El Mirador, our feet were aching and we decided to spend the rest of the day resting and eating. While we were eating, we met the chief archeologist, who instead of giving up interesting archeological information, decided to express his conservative, living in fear attitude and hence his disapproval of our walking in without a guide. He was busy and had to be on his way, but we couldn't help wondering if his helicopter ride was really safer. We spent the next two days exploring the ruins of El Mirador. The Mayans were an advanced society of the time with a good understanding of astronomy and time. The Danta pyramid (on the east side of El Mirador) is positioned so that from El Tigre pyramid (on the west side) on will witness the sunrise over its central summit on the equinox and over its secondary north and south summits on the winter and summer solstices, respectively. They lived off the land (both naturally and agriculturally). They were also masters of stone from creating great temples of limestone to knives of obsidian and carvings of jade (both of which were imported). One of the biggest questions yet to be answered is why they buried the entire city under a few feet of rock and earth. This required huge amounts of energy and eventually resulted in the city becoming overgrown with jungle. It makes one think that it was perhaps an evacuation planned years in advance. Also no one knows why they left.

Map of El Mirador

Part of the thrill and experience of seeing El Mirador lies in the beauty of its natural surroundings. El Mirador is situated within the center of the largest tropical forest in all of Central America. It is so remote that, since the evacuation of the Mayans, it has been virtually untouched by mankind. The forest is filled with wildlife. Neither of us had ever seen so many monkeys. They were everywhere. We saw spider monkeys, which travel in large groups and are extremely quick, agile and always moving about, crashing around in the trees up above. We also saw howler monkeys, which are named after the loud growling sounds they make. We were warned not to stand directly below them, because the mischievious howler monkeys will throw sticks at you and try to pee on you. We also saw numerous birds, including a pair of toucans, as well as spiders and snakes. We also saw a few coatis up in the trees. These strange animals look like a cross between a fox and a racoon. Unfortunately, despite the wildness of the forest, it is threatened on its outskirts by illegal logging, slash and burn agriculture techniques and poaching. In the last 10 year, both spider and howler monkey populations have declined by 20%. We hope that recent efforts by the Guatemalan government will help to preserve and protect this amazing area.

Un Mico (A Spider Monkey)

Un Saraguate (A Howler Monkey)

A Loco Arriba Monkey

Unfortunately some of the wildlife we encountered on the journey was not so pleasurable. The forest is also filled with near microscopic-sized ticks. Graham unknowingly sat in a nest of them while wearing shorts. The next morning Graham had about 150 to 200 of these tiny creatures clinging to his body. We won't go into the details but they were in some of the worst places imaginable. Fortunately, the ticks in Guatemala do not carry diseases, as deer ticks in the US do. After two days exploring El Mirador, it was time to head out. We spent one long day hiking from El Mirador to La Florida, where we camped for the night. Along the way, vigilantes had been supplying us with rain water to drink. To our dismay, we discovered that the vigilantes in La Florida did not collect rain water but instead drank from a manky swamp. The hue of the swamp water would remind one of an expensive powdered greens drink one might find at a health foods store. But...it was not. It was swamp water, and we drank it (after bleaching it for 30 minutes and boiling it, of course!) The return home was uneventful, except for our micro ride, during which the driver had to stop ever 5 minutes to reinflate the front tire with a bicycle pump.

Our swampy drinking water

All in all the trip was not for the faint of heart. The reward was a great insight into the Mayan way of life. March 2008

Rubber Legs Not Lubber Legs

2008-02-24T19:38:00.004-05:00

As we ventured further south in Belize, the landscape of mainland became more and more mountainous. Victoria Peak, a 3675 ft (1120 m) peak, rising sharply with its prominent summit jutting out high above the surrounding mountains, immediately caught our eye. Not having climbed, or much less even seen, a mountain for may months, we became fixated on climbing it.

Victoria Peak

Due to Belize’s geography and weather patterns mainland access is quite difficult by boat. The winds at this time of year come predominantly out of the north and the east. Most of Belize’s coastline lies exposed to these wind directions. Even though the large barrier reef to the east shields the mainland from most of the ocean swell, during periods of moderate or high winds the coast can still be exposed to rolling waves. (The barrier reef lies several miles to the east of the mainland coast, allowing several miles for swells to build up and develop.) We needed to find somewhere protected from swells and from theft, where we could safely leave the boat on anchor for a few days. After spending a number of days in Placencia, we discovered we had found such a place. We had met an excellent and supportive community of cruising sailors and found a couple that agreed to keep an eye on our boat and on Squeak for us for a few days. We also decided to leave immediately after a norther had passed through, maximizing our chances of calm weather before the next norther decided to rear its ugly head. We did not feel comfortable leaving the boat and Squeak for more than 3 days (2 nights), so we would have to travel fast and light. Victoria Peak lies in the Cockscomb Basin Jaguar Preserve. To access the park, we needed to take a bus from Placencia to a town called Maya Centre. From there the park entrance lies 10 km by highly eroded dirt road. Being too cheap to pay for a taxi and not having the time to walk, we decided to bike into the park. We had only one bike aboard Chandrika, but were able to buy a beat up old mountain bike in Placencia, so we now each have one to ride. We were ready to begin our attempt at Victoria Peak. We awoke at 3:30 in the morning. After eating breakfast, we piled both bikes, two large backpacks filled with camping equipment and provisions and ourselves into our 8 foot plastic rowing dinghy (with a rated 450 lb maximum weight capacity) in the dark. It was a bit of a delicate balancing act, but we arrived at the dinghy dock with all of our supplies in one trip. We left our dinghy at the fuel dock. Our friends, Susan and Gary on Pacifico would be borrowing and looking after our dinghy while we were gone. Their dinghy and outboard engine had been stolen from behind their boat one night while at anchor in Placencia. We caught our 5:30 am bus to Maya Centre, which ended up leaving at 6am. We were able to take our bikes on the bus without any trouble. After arriving in Maya Centre at 7:30, we hopped on our bikes and began the journey into the park. The bike riding was absolutely exhilarating! The dirt road was quite rocky and full of potholes and other obstacles. It also would rise steeply and then drop down quickly, allowing for some very exciting and adventurous mountain biking. It was made all the more thrilling for Graham, who rode the second hand bike we purchased in Placencia. It only had one gear and it had pedal breaks, only allowing him to break with the rear tire. The large backpacks only added to the challenge. Halfway through our 10 km bike ride, it began to pour. There is a reason the forest here is called rainforest. We very quickly became completely drenched. The rain had permeated through our Gortex rain-gear. But...at least it wasn’t hot! Despite the weather, we enjoyed the lush sounds of the forest with its beautiful bird song melodies. When we arrived in the park at the Victoria Peak trailhead, we hid the bikes behind some thick vegetation and locked them to a vine. We began hiking. It was still raining, but since we could not get any wetter, it really did not make much difference. The first 12 km of the trail was gentle and pleasant hiking, which led us through thick luscious forest full of tropical plants and birds. We only saw one group of 3 hikers on their way out of the park. Otherwise we would see no other people during our hike. The rain made the trail very muddy and slick, but since it was fairly flat walking, it was not much of a hindrance. After hiking 12 km, we arrived at Camp 1, which had a simple thatched roof structure (with no walls) and an adjacent pit toilet. Having only 3 days, we decided to push on towards Camp 2, the site of another thatched roof structure located at km 19.

jungle ferns

Camouflaged Evolution

Soon after leaving Camp 1, the trail began to rise and fall more steeply. By km 15, the elevation changes were becoming increasingly steep and exhausting. Hiking uphill, we would have to grasp onto tree limbs and vines to prevent ourselves from sliding down the wet and muddy slope. As soon as we arrived at the top of the incline, we would look down at an equally steep and slippery descent. We climbed in all about 10 of these hills only to descend to the same elevation at which we’d started. Furthermore, the signposts that marked each kilometer were getting further and further apart. We realized that this was not due to our fatigue, but due to the fact that the signposts marked kilometers according to their GPS position. It was one kilometer “as the crow flies” between signposts, even though the trail took numerous bends and undulations. It took us longer to hike the last 7 km between camps as it took to hike the first 12 km. We arrived at Camp 2 at 17:30 completely exhausted. We had been biking and hiking for 10 hours. Because of the wet and soggy shoes, Sue’s toes were covered in numerous painful blisters. From all of the steep ups and downs, her knees were throbbing. A few days later, Sue’s big toenails would turn bright purple and almost fall off. With the lack of use on the boat, our legs had turned to rubber unlike those of a landlubber. We made dinner and set up camp. Because of the presence of the thatched roof huts at each camp, we did not bring a tent for shelter, but instead hung mosquito netting, which we slept underneath.

Waterfall at Camp 2

We awoke at dawn. Our original plan had been to hike to the summit of Victoria Peak and then descend back to Camp 2 on our 2nd day. On our 3rd day, we had planned to retrace our steps, hiking out the “19” km and biking back out to Maya Centre. We had only brought food for 3 days and the cruisers watching our boat were expecting us back on Day 3. We were unsure of the total distance we still had to hike to reach the summit of Victoria Peak; however, we knew that it would be a very steep ascent involving a climb up a fixed rope through a narrow and wet gully. The entire rest of the route would follow a soggy vertical creek bed. Due to the extremely wet conditions of the day prior, we were unsure if the ascent would be dry enough to be passable. The rain had lifted during the night and we had awoken to a clear sky, improving our chances. Over the years, we both have learned to listed to our bodies, and this was one of the rare occasions where we did not ignore what our bodies were telling us. It is after all about each footstep and the pleasure of the journey and not the achievement of the summit. We spent the hiking back to Camp 1, where we spent the night. On our 3rd day, we hiked back towards the park entrance and our bikes. As we got closer to the trailhead, we began to see more and more human footprints. Among those were prints that appeared to be of a hoofed animal, or so we thought. As we walked, the prints became more legible, and they looked more like those of a large dog. We found our bikes, and while we were unlocking them, we heard a strange noise that sent shivers down our spines and froze us in our tracks. It could be nothing other than the sound of a very large and angry cat. The only cat in the park large enough to make such a deep and ferocious sound is the jaguar. You could literally hear the cat breathing. As the cat exhaled, it sounded like a roar and with every inhalation was a deep purr. We could see no further than a few feet into the thick jungle, but the cat sounded as if it were within a hundred feet of us. To avoid being seen as a fleeing target, we walked the bikes instead of riding them. Eventually we noticed that the roars and purrs overlapped. We kept walking and then there was a dead eerie silence. Even the birds of the jungle had gone silent. Now we were scared, so we just walked...quietly. When we arrived at the park headquarters, we saw the ranger. He confirmed that the sounds we’d heard were those of two jaguars meeting, exhibiting a characteristic competition for dominance. We asked the ranger if jaguars and dangerous to people. He answered, “Typically no, but when meeting they can be.” We hopped on our bikes and headed out on the dirt road towards Maya Centre, where we caught a bus back to Placencia. January 2008

Isla Mujeres to Belize

2008-01-03T13:26:00.000-05:00

After being in Isla Mujeres for about a week, we were growing weary of the weather. We experienced strong winds (often up to 40 knots) both from the SW and more commonly from the N. Strong winds from the north, called northers, are common in this area during the winter months. These northers begin in December and grow in intensity and become more frequent in January and February. They can reach 80 knots later in the winter. Because the Gulf Stream current in this region runs from south to north, these northerly winds run opposite to the flow of the Gulf Stream, resulting in large seas, which are rough and disorganized. We were eager to leave Isla Mujeres and head further south where the northers are much less intense and where the northbound current is weaker. We decided to skip the rest of Mexico and head straight to Belize, which is surrounded by the world’s second largest barrier reef. This reef runs almost the full length of the country and protects the eastern coast from ocean swells. In order to sail to Belize, we would have to keep an eye on the weather and try to depart after a norther, which would provide us with a window of good weather before the following norther. Another reason for wanting to leave Isla Mujeres was the poor holding ground around the island. There is only a thin layer of weed covered sand above a dense layer of hardened coral, so our anchor was not able to penetrate very deeply. After watching numerous boats drag anchor and start drifting off, it was finally our turn. On the night of December 14th after going to bed, the winds began to grow in strength. It was difficult to sleep. I (Sue) awoke at least 10 times during the night. Everytime I awoke I would look out and check the GPS to make sure we weren’t dragging. I’d also go on deck and check the tension on the anchor line. It seemed that every time I checked, the wind was coming from a different direction in varying intensities from 20 to 40 knots. At 5am, we were awoken by our anchor alarm on the GPS, telling us that our boat had moved significantly from its original position. We looked outside and saw that the boat was moving rapidly unimpeded towards a concrete wall. We jumped out of bed, ran out on deck, started the engine and hoisted the anchor. We decided we would reanchor in a lagoon, called Laguna Makoy, inside Isla Mujeres that we had learned about a couple of days prior. The holding ground is only marginally better, but the area is nestled behind a patch of mangroves which shield some of the wind. Because it was still dark and visibility was poor, we decided to motor around in circles until sunrise. At first light, we squeezed through the opening into the lagoon and set anchor. Inside the lagoon, the winds were about 10 knots lighter. Soon many other boats decided to join us and the lagoon rapidly became crowded with boats. Despite being in a more protected area, we were uncomfortable being in such tight quarters. For the next couple of days, we waited out the ensuing norther. We were not comfortable leaving the boat unattended, so we mostly entertained ourselves by reading, playing cribbage and backgammon, and when the winds would lessen a bit, visiting our friends, Mark and Lori, aboard neighboring Aeolus. We decided we would leave for Belize after this norther, so Sue visited the port captain, where we officially cleared out of Mexico. Weather forcasts we heard from other cruisers predicted that the norther would subside on December 18th, and would soon be followed by 10-15 knot easterly trade winds. On December 18th, the winds had lessened a little, and we set sail for Belize at 4:45am. We were sailing under full main and staysail in 15-20 knot NE winds, occasionally gusting to 25 knots. The seas were choppy until we rounded the southern tip of Isla Mujeres, where we met the ocean swell. The seas were now 6 to 8 feet and very rough and disorganized. As we rounded Punta Cancun, we got hit broadside by a large swell that sent our 5 gallon water jugs flying across the aft cabin down below. A locker (cabinet) door also flew open, sending pieces of wood and other items all over the main salon. We were sailing quickly from 5-1/2 to 7 knots until we hit the strong northbound current of the Gulf Stream as we squeezed in between Isla Cozumel and mainland Mexico. The current slowed us to 1-1/2 to 2 knots. Not wanting to spend the next 24 hours fighting current and getting slammed around by the waves, we decided to turn on the engine and motor-sail until we exited the current. After dark, the winds were still coming from the NE at 15 to 20 knots with 25 to 30 knot gusts. No longer fighting current, we were now sailing along at 5-1/2 to 6 knots. We were eager to feel the predicted 10 to 15 knot easterly trade winds, which would calm the seas significantly. Although the seas were rough and the winds strong, we were not concerned for our safety, but we were very uncomfortable and growing sea sick due to the strong quartering seas. Graham had the pleasure of making dinner and when he came back on deck had a pale green complexion. The sea conditions made it impossible to sleep, which aggravated Graham’s condition. Squeak was also feeling ill. I had tried giving him Bonine for motion sickness, but did not do so early enough and he was unable to keep it down. The wind and seas did not finally subside for another 24 hours. The beautiful 10 to 15 knot easterly trade winds that had been predicted for most of our passage were only experienced for one hour during the night of the 19th. They were soon followed again by 15 to 20 knot NE winds. The brief change in wind direction, however, had managed to calm the seas a little, and we were both able to finally get some sleep. To sleep we would lie down on the cabin sole (floor) in the center of the boat, and smoosh our body in one place by wedging it in between cushions and pillows, like a canned sardine. The winds and seas lessened steadily throughout the evening and on the morning of December 20th, the winds stopped. The seas were flat and calm. We took turns sleeping heavily for the rest of the passage. Soon the winds picked up at a gentle 10 to 15 knots out of the west and we were able to sail at a beam reach until we reached the Eastern Channel entrance through the barrier reef leading to Belize City. We had made good time on our passage, having gone about 90 nautical miles the first 24 hours and approximately 130 nautical miles the second 24 hours. We anchored at 1pm on the 20th behind a beautiful island at Robinson Point. We decided to eat and rest and check into Belize City the following day. Clearing into Belize went fairly smoothly once we were able to contact the officials, who do not monitor the VHF radio. We ran some errands in the city and then left to explore more remote parts of the country. Since entering Belize, we have done a lot of snorkeling. Many of the reefs here are alive and thriving; although some of them are on their way out. While snorkeling we have observed many strange and indescribable organisms. We have no idea what many of them are and would love to learn more about coral reef biology. We saw two strange bright orange and yellow polk-a-dotted blobs that appeared to be parasitizing the coral. We have also observed an organism that looks like an underwater Venus flytrap. We you approach them they vanish in a blink of an eye into a tiny little hole. We have also seen sparkly little cones that look much like Christmas trees, which display a similar disappearing behavior. We also saw a manatee about 10 feet from our rowboat. It was quite shy and did not stick around for us to observe it. While sailing and at anchor, we have seen numerous dolphins and a couple of whales. The dolphins love to race alongside and in front of Chandrika while she is under sail. It is such a rush to sit on Chandrika’s bow, dangling your legs off the front and watching the dolphins surface only feet away. I don’t think I will ever grow tired of watching them. After having done so much snorkeling, we are now excited to spend some time on land. The islands here are almost entirely mangroves, so are not conducive to exploration. We would like to visit the mountains and rainforests on mainland Belize. We are currently anchored near Placencia, a small touristy town on the mainland waiting out the first norther we’ve experienced in Belize. The winds here are from the north and northwest mostly around 25 knots, with frequent 35 knot gusts and the occasional 40 knot gust. Again we have seen many of the neighboring charter boats drag, but so far are holding steady. While we were down below playing backgammon, we heard the faint sound of a fog horn. We ran up on deck to see a 45 foot 33,000 pound steel sailboat 20 feet away being blown straight towards our bow. We quickly grabbed inflatable fenders to try and cushion the upcoming blow. We were extremely fortunate as their boat grazed our bow with only 6 inches to spare. The outboard motor for their dingy, which was mounted on the stern of their boat, smashed into our front navigation light, shattering it. However, had they been 6 inches further aft, they would have done serious damage to our bow. Apparently they had just laid down their anchor when it began to drag. At that moment, their inboard motor died on them, so they had no way to control their boat. After securing their boat, the captain kindly came by to visit and to reimburse us for our broken running light. This incident has reinforced our extreme dislike of being in a crowded anchorage during a norther. Not only do we need to worry about our boat dragging and hitting other boats, but we need to worry about other boats as well. This event also reinforced our desire to purchase a Single-Side Band (SSB) radio. We have been relying upon other cruisers who have SSB to provide us with weather forcasts. When we were out exploring the reefs, we did not meet any other cruisers (or for that matter any other people) and did not have access to weather predictions. We are hoping to buy an SSB high frequency radio that will give us this access, but we will probably have to wait until we get to Honduras before we can purchase one. We plan to stay in Belize until the end of January. We can hardly wait to see Graham’s mom and his Uncle Chucky (aka “Uncle Fun”) when they come to visit us on the 23rd. After their visit at the end of January, we plan to sail southward to the Rio Dulce of Guatemala. After the Rio Dulce, we will travel to Honduras, where we will visit some friends in Roatan. January 2nd, 2007

US to Isla Mujeres, Mexico

2007-12-11T12:37:00.005-05:00

We ended up spending 2 and 1/2 weeks in Marathon. While we were there we made some improvements to the boat. We repaired our boom vang, which had ripped out of the boom on our sail to Marathon. We installed lazy jacks, patched a tear in our jib sail, restitched the sacrificial canvas on our roller staysail, and installed 2 new house batteries. We also waited for some supplies in the mail and our Coast Guard registration. We provisioned the boat with plenty of food and water. While in Marathon, we met some wonderful new friends, Linda and Larry on Enchantress, Brenda and Dennis on White O' Mornin', and Bill on Anticipation. We left in the morning on Nov. 29th, as our friends waved us fairwell. Our first leg of the journey was to Dry Tortuga, our final stop in the US. From there we would make the passage to Isla Mujeres in Quintana Roo, Mexico. It took us 3 days to sail to Dry Tortuga. The first day we had very little wind and it took us most of the day to go the 25 miles to our anchorage in Key Lois. However, each day the wind grew stronger and by our third day we were flying at a broad reach in 20 knot winds all the way to Dry Tortuga. Unfortunately, our beautiful trip sailing was met with tragedy. Our second night we anchored in the lee of Boca Grande. We had had an excellent day and spirits were high. Kate decided to go outside and enjoy the wind. We went out after about 20 minutes to check on her and could not find her anywhere. We scoured the entire boat and looked in the water around the boat. The moment we looked into the water, we knew there was no hope. The water was rushing past with a strong tidal current. She must have fallen in and quickly been carried out to sea. There was nothing we could do. That night Sue could not sleep. Every time she closed here eyes, she imagined Kate´s terror as the current carried her further and further away. We will miss her greatly. We have now come to appreciate that Kates new found freedom on deck was the path that she had chosen to live. We could have protected her more and not allowed her out, but it would have resulted in a battle of wills and she would not have been happy. Her short life aboard Chandrika was a good one. We had never seen her more happy.

Kate and Squeak cuddling below decks

Captain Kate at the helm

Squeak spent the next week looking around the boat in all the nooks and crannies for his sister. He still looks around for her from time to time. We are not sure how much he understands. However, he must have a sense of what happened, because he has expressed zero interest in going outside since Kate disappeared. We have decided that if he starts wanting to go out again, we are going to throw him in the water and teach him to climb back aboard with some netting thrown over the side. We stayed in Dry Tortugas for a couple of days waiting for the strong winds and seas to dissipate. Dry Tortugas is a US National Park in the Florida Keys that can only be accessed by boat or by plane. Dry Tortugas was much different that any national park we have ever visited and would be much better classified as a national monument. The island has an old civil war era fort called Fort Jefferson, which is built out of crumbling brick made from coral. The fort is not nearly as solidly built as the other forts from the same era up in Casco Bay, Maine, since Florida lacks granite. We enjoyed exploring the fort and snorkeling around the outside of the moat.

arriving at Dry Tortugas

Chandrika at anchor at Dry Tortugas

On Dec. 3rd the winds had subsided and were coming out of the north at 10 knots. We left Dry Tortugas and 07:30 and headed out to sea. Once out to sea, the winds quickly dropped to 0-2 knots. We spent most of the day attempting to sail before finally deciding to motor. We motored through the night. Part way through the evening we hit the strong east bound current of the Gulf Stream. We ended up fighting the Gulf Stream currents almost the entire way. The current varied in places from 1 knot to up to 3 knots. Much of our trip the wind was too light to allow us to make significant headway under sail against the current. We ended up motoring and motor sailing much of the way. However, the positive side was that seas were calm much of the time. We did have a few days with some excellent sailing. On our second day, we watched a wall of clouds approaching as a cold front moved southward sending us 15 knot winds from the NW with gusts of 20 knots. We sailed at a beam reach the rest of the day. The wind also kicked up the seas and we had 5 foot swells from the side. Chandrika handled the seas beautifully until part way through the night when the winds stopped, slowing down the boat so much that the swells began to knock us broadside. Again, we were back to motoring. The following day the winds picked up again and we were able to sail once more. This time we had a headwind straight out of the SW. We close hauled under full sail in 15 knot winds with 20 knot gusts. It was exhilarating sailing. While we felt as if we were over canvassed for 15-20 knot winds, because we were fighting cvurrent we could not make headway and actually lost control of the boat under reduced sail. Chandrika sailed wonderfully and pretty much sailed herself with only occassional corrections at the helm. Along our passage to Mexico, we had dolphins swim alongside our boat 3 times. One evening as the sun was setting, we had a school of about 100 dolphins swimming alongside us, playing, doing flips and twists, and enjoying the gorgeous reds and oranges of the setting sun. On December 6th, after spending the day motorsailing and pushing our was through 2-3 knot north-bound current, we finally exited the Gulf Stream. That evening the winds increased from the South at about 15 knots. No longer fighting current and having favorable winds, we were able to sail at a close reach in the dark. We had only 20 -25 miles left until we reached Isla Mujeres and we were able to sail almost the rest of the way at 5 to 5.5 knots. It felt great to be out of the currents so we could finally move at a decent pace again. About 2 miles out from the flashing green light marking the North entrance to Isla Mujeres, the winds stopped. We decided to drop sail and motor the rest of the way. As soon as we dropped sail, a huge squall hit us unexpectedly and out of nowhere. Blinding rain and 40 knot winds destroyed visibility and made steerage of the boat difficult. We could no longer see the flashing green light, which according to the GPS was less than 1 mile off our bow. We decided it would be crazy to make our entrance into Isla Mujeres at night in such conditions, but at the same time we did not want to go back out to sea. Using the GPS to guide us, we motored to an open area to the NW of Isla Mujeres where it was shallow enough for us to drop the hook. The area offered little protection from the elements, but it provided a place where we could sit still and not worry about hitting something in the dark. Soon after we anchored the rain and the wind eased off. A fishing boat with 2 Mexicans pulled up to make sure we were okay. We told them that we were fine, planned to stay there through the night and would make our entrance in the morning. We did not want to risk another squall hitting us if decided to go further. We managed to get a couple of hours of sleep before the winds switched kicking up swells that were hitting us broadside. The boat was rolling so uncomfortably, it was impossible to sleep. In the morning of Dec 7th at first light, we saw 2 sailboats anchored 200 yards away from us in the lee of Isla Mujeres and therefore out of the swells. One of them was our friends Mark and Lori on Aeolus, who we´d met at Dry Tortugas. We had been unable to see their anchor lights the night before. Wishing to get out of the rolly seas and to finally get some sleep, we quickly weighed anchor and motored into Isla Mujeres´ somewhat protected harbor. Overall, Squeak did very well on our passage. Sue gave him one-twelfth of a tablet of Bonine (similar to Dramamine) for motion sickness two times on our passage. Sue gave it to him early to prevent sea sickness. It seemed to have worked. The only trouble was trying to get Squeak to eat. We fed him 2 cans of wet cat food mixed with chicken broth and tuna juice, as it was all we could get him to eat. Later that day we cleared into Mexico, which involved a random hocus-pocus of meaningless paperwork and beaurocracy, where we had to travel between multiple buildings spread out all over town. Watching other cruisers wandering around town trying to clear through, made the whole process more entertaining. The whole process took us half the day. Afterwards we headed back to the boat and ate and slept. Isla Mujeres is a touristy Mexican town with some Mayan ruins on its Southern tip and lots of restaurants and shops in the town center. The anchorage has poor holding ground and lots of Mexican boat traffic that flies through sending big wakes. We´ve seen a number of other boats drag anchor, some of them repeatedly. But fortunately, our anchor has been holding well in winds of up to 40 knots. We luckily chose a good spot to anchor. We plan to spend a few more days here before heading south, while we wait for the seas to subside from the strong Northeasterly winds that we´ve been experiencing. December 12th, 2007

Precruising Refit

2007-11-17T09:49:00.000-05:00

We’ve been in the Miami/ Fort Lauderdale area for the past few months working obsessively on the boat, getting her ready to go cruising. We’ve been working so hard, we haven’t taken the time to update this blog for a very long time. We send our apologies to those who have been checking regularly and waiting to hear from us.

The first night we spent on the boat, it rained heavily. To our dismay, there was water dripping (and in some places streaming) inside the boat. Our first boat repair projects were to fix the leaks which involved rebedding almost all of the deck hardware. We also added backing plates, where they were lacking to add structural integrity. Repairing the leaks also involved treating a few areas were the plywood deck had begun to rot. We now have a dry boat and the few rotten areas of wood have been repaired.

Our next large project was to install a toe rail along the edge of the deck. The toe rail provides structural support to the hull to deck joint, as well as providing an edge to catch someone’s foot or a kitty cat (preventing them from falling overboard) if they should happen to slip. We purchased two 34 foot long sections of aluminum toe rail from a consignment store up in Fort Lauderdale. The first challenge was transporting the sections of toe rail to our boat in Miami. We borrowed a friend’s 16 foot long van, strapped the 34 foot long pieces of toe rail onto the top, tied three orange life vests onto the ends (as flags) and drove through the crazy Miami traffic to our boat. The next challenge was the installation, which proved to be quite a difficult project, as we soon discovered that the trim on the boat (which was cored with wood) was completely rotten in some places with some areas having large voids. We treated the rotten wood with Dr. Rot and filled in the voids with epoxy. We ended up using almost 1-1/2 gallons of epoxy! While we were fixing the deck trim, a beautiful dove landed on top of Sue’s head and nibbled at her hair. The dove allowed us to pet her and hold her, and stayed with us all afternoon. After filling all of the voids with epoxy, we now had a solid deck trim into which we could drill to install the toe rail. Using the lines from our rigging, we surprisingly had no trouble bending the toe rail into place. We also added a beefier rub rail to the side of the boat to protect the edges of the deck from bumping up against docks, etc.

The dove landing sitting on Sue's shoulder

The Love Dove

Installing the Toe Rail

We also made numerous other improvements to the boat, such as rerigging some of the halyards and sheets (lines for the sails), rewiring the cabin lights, cleaning the forward water tank, removing two leaking water bladders that were in the aft water tanks and replacing them with water jugs. We wanted much better anchor gear, since we are planning to live “on the hook”. We purchased a 15kg Rocna anchor, mounted it onto the bow with a new bow roller, installed a new deck pipe fitting for the chain to feed through the deck into the chain locker and divided the chain locker. The boat came with 3 other anchors and we were given a few anchors from a friend. We now have 9 anchors aboard. We figure it never hurts. If the wind really starts to howl, we have no qualms with throwing them all overboard. The largest project of all however was repowering. The boat came with a 1985 36hp Volvo MD3B marine diesel engine. The engine was in need of a major rebuild. We decided to replace it with a brand new (never been used) 2006 28hp Beta Marine diesel engine, which we purchased on Ebay. We found a boat yard in Fort Lauderdale where we decided to haul out for the engine installation and for some other repairs to the hull. The day before we left for the boatyard, we opened up the engine compartment to check the engine. We discovered that during our last sailing excursion on Biscayne Bay, the alternator had managed to tear loose and fly off the engine, ripping the alternator belt and breaking the metal fittings that hold it to the engine. Not having time, nor wanting the headache of doing a proper fix, since we were about to replace the engine, we decided to strap the alternator onto the engine with wire and replace the belt with a spare that we had aboard. Our cranking battery designated for starting the engine was completely dead, so we had been starting the engine off the house batteries (designated for the electronics and lights). We would have to try to use as little energy as possible and hope that our crude fix for the alternator would be able to charge the batteries enough to get us where we were going. We would definitely need our engine to navigate through the tight waterways to and from the Atlantic Ocean. We headed to the boat yard the following morning on September 23rd. Because of one bridge that is too low for our mast, we were unable to head north up the Intracoastal Waterway, which meant heading out onto the Atlantic Ocean instead. We first had to motor south down the Intracoastal Waterway to Government Cut, where we were able to cut out onto the Atlantic Ocean. The sailing on the Atlantic was wonderful and provided an excellent relief from all of the work that we had been doing. The wind was coming straight out of the East at 10 knots allowing us to sail at a beam reach the entire way to Port Everglades, and the entrance to Fort Lauderdale from the Atlantic. We spent one sleepless night anchored in a narrow waterway in the Fort Lauderdale area just outside the main channel. In the morning we turned on the Volvo and motored down the New River to the boat yard. The New River is a very narrow waterway with several low drawbridges. Fortunately, the bridge tenders who open the bridges were very responsive and opened the bridges quickly. It would not have been fun to try and back up or turn around in the river. One of the last bridges that we had to go under, required that we pass under it at low tide. The bridge clearance at low tide (when we passed under) was a hair over 54 feet. Our mast height (including the VHF antennae) is 54 feet. The next bridge was a draw bridge that requires 24 hours advanced notice for an opening. We had called them the day before we left. After passing through this draw bridge, we were looking on the left for the sign for the boat yard. There was another bridge a short distance away. Not seeing the sign for the boatyard, we figured that the boatyard might be past the next bridge. Unfortunately, since the bridge was “under construction” according to our chart from 2003, the chart did not show a clearance. As we approached the bridge, Sue was on the bow looking ahead for the minimum clearance sign. When we were only about 100 feet from the bridge, Sue was able to spot the clearance sign hidden behind a motor yacht. It read, “45 feet”. If you recall, our mast clearance is 54 feet (49 feet if you do not include the antennae). If we passed under the bridge, we would most certainly be demasted! Sue yelled to Graham to back up and turn around. Seeing as the current from the river and the 10-15 knot winds were pushing us directly into the bridge and that the river was only about 50 feet wide between the expensive motor yachts docked on either side (our boat being 34 feet long), backing up or turning around was not an encouraging prospect. With Graham at the helm and Sue kicking her feet on the expensive motor yachts trying to fend them off, we somehow miraculously were able to turn around, our aft stay coming within 15 feet of the bridge. When we turned around we saw the sign for the boat yard temporarily get blown up into the air, just enough so that we could make it out. There were two pilings in front of the boat yard. We were unsure if we could pull in between them because we did not know how deep the water was that close to shore. We decided to pull up alongside the pilings rather than pull in between them. It turns out that this was a wise option, as we later measured the depth with a stick and discovered that it was definitely too shallow. The parallel parking nature of the situation combined with the wind and current being against us, made Sue diving into the water with the lines the most appealing option. Fortunately, it was a Sunday and there was no one at the boatyard to witness our dramatic entry.

Graham, hard at work at the helm, sailing up to Fort Lauderdale

The following day, we began removing the Volvo. While removing it, we discovered that one of the mounts (that secures the engine to the boat) was completely broken in half. The engine had essentially been standing on three feet instead of four. Perhaps this was the reason why our engine managed to shake off the alternator? Disassembling the engine was no small project. It took us about 4 days to remove it. It barely fit through our narrow companionway entrance. We hired someone with a crane to help us pull it out of the boat. Next we put the new engine inside the boat and began the installation process. We hired a consultant to guide us through the installation process. He would come by the boat periodically and tell us what we needed to do next and then loan us the necessary tools. Other than his guidance, we installed the whole thing by ourselves. It was one of the most stressful and overwhelming experiences we have ever been through. Getting the engine to fit into the engine compartment was no small task. We had to extend the forward fiberglass beds (that the engine sits on) back using fiberglass cloth, matte and polyester resin. We had to then grind away part of the aft beds coating every square inch in the cabin with fiberglass dust ( as well as much of our lungs). Then we built up all four of the beds with white oak, all of which required custome fitting, and fiberglassed them in. The installation also meant putting in a new shaft, buying a new propeller, getting all new hoses including a new wet exhaust system with a high rise elbow to the top of the lazarette with a shut off valve for protection in extremely heavy seas, cleaning and painting the engine compartment, draining the fuel tank and cleaning the sludge sediment off the bottom, rewiring the starter cable and battery selector switches, restuffing the stuffing box, installing a new cutlass bearing and various other odds and ends. After 3 and a half weeks we put the boat back into the water and bolted the engine in place. It was time for the final alignment of the engine with the propeller shaft. Amazingly we discovered that we had bolted the engine down in exactly the correct spot and no further adjustments were needed. Now the question we had been wondering for the past few weeks...would she run? She runs great. Despite all of the difficulty of putting in the new engine, we are happy that we chose to repower. In addition to having a brand new engine, we learned tons about diesel engines, fiberglass work, etc. While the boat was on the hard, we also had some fiberglass work done on the hull and we painted the bottom of her hull. Also while we were in the yard, we got to see our friends, Dale and Regan, and had a visit from Graham’s mom. It was wonderful to see them; however, we were sorry that we didn’t have more free time while they were here. Hopefully they will come visit us again in a more relaxing environment in some beautiful place.

Out with the old

In with the new

We also must mention our huge appreciation for our friends, Leti and Christoph. We stayed with them the entire time our boat was on the hard and for a few weeks before we purchased the boat. Before we discovered that they had moved to Miami, we had been camping behind a neighborhood in Miami in a patch of mosquito-ridden tall grass. We do not even want to imagine how horrible this whole experience would have been without them. They took us into their home and made us feel like part of their family. They have three beautiful children, Stephan (6 yrs), Erica (just turned 5 yrs), and Lucas (about 1-1/2 yrs). It was wonderful playing with them and getting to know them. Lucas loves climbing anything and everything in sight and one of his favorite words is "Arriba" which means "Up" in Spanish. It is no surprise that Lucas and Graham really hit it off. We will miss spending time with Leti, Christoph and all of the kids.

Stephan (Luke Skywalker) battles his father (Darth Vader)

Leti and Erica

Erica finishes her dance performance

Lucas (the Arriba Man) in his Halloween costume

After leaving the boat yard, we took the boat back to Miami. The trip out the New River and out to the Atlantic was uneventful. Unfortunately the wind was coming directly from the south, so to avoid a long overnight sail on the Atlantic, we decided to motor back to Miami. We spent the next few days relaxing and doing absolutely nothing in Biscayne Bay. It felt great to be a vegetable after working everyday, 10+ hours a day for 3 and ½ weeks straight. It also felt wonderful to be at the end of our boat refitting process. There will always be boat maintenance, but we were finally done with the initial start-up phase. It was finally time to go get the cats, sell the car and get out of Miami. Just as we were about to drive to Alabama to get the cats, we learned of the approaching tropical storm Noel that was heading straight for Miami. We decided that it would be best if Graham stayed in Miami with the boat, and Sue drove up to Alabama alone. Unfortunately the whole trip was quite rushed, and Sue had very little time to spend with her family. Having the cats back however has been absolutely wonderful. The first night the cats (especially Kate) had a hard time and were pretty nervous that their new home was bobbing around. However, the cats have settled in quite quickly. We were surprised that Kate was the one who adapted to the boat first. She absolutely loves it! Since both Kate and Squeak are indoor cats, being allowed outside on deck is a new and thrilling experience for them. Very soon after moving onboard, Kate was jumping up on top of the boom, running around the deck, rubbing her checks on Graham and Sue and all of the rigging and purring away madly. She hasn’t been so frisky since she was a kitten. She even somehow managed to be the alpha cat for awhile. (She eats first when given tuna juice and makes Squeak wait). Squeak also enjoys the boat, but has settled in more gradually. He prefers to stay inside and cuddle with us in the V-berth.

Kate and Squeak settling in

Captain Kate, climbing the boom

After getting the cats, we sold the car and headed down to Marathon in the Florida Keys. We spent three days sailing down. It was excellent sailing with a steady 15 knot wind at our backs most of the way, except as we headed westward towards Marathon, we sailed at a beam reach. Chandrika absolutely flew. We sailed her from 6 to 7-1/2 knots most of the way and at times were even surfing on top of the following swells. It was a blast. Being in Marathon has also been wonderful. The people here are extremely friendly and welcoming, and it is nice to be around so many cruisers. We plan to stay in Marathon for a couple weeks while we wait for a few things in the mail. We will be spending Thanksgiving here. There will be a Thanksgiving dinner at the marina for all of the liveaboards. It will hopefully ease the blow of not being with our families for Thanksgiving.

We have decided to sail to Isla Mujeres off the Yucatan peninsula in Mexico. We will most likely depart sometime in early December (depending on weather and our packages in the mail). From there we will work our way southward along the eastern coast of Central America.

November 17, 2007

Chandrika

2007-07-22T09:48:00.000-05:00

Sorry it has been so long since our last posting. It took us over a month to finalize the purchase, but she is finally ours. We settled on a 34 foot Creekmore cutter built in 1982. She is a very solid and seaworthy vessel and we are happy to have found her. Her name at the time of purchase was Bald Eagle, but we have decided to change her name to Chandrika, which means Moonlight in Hindi. Below are several pictures from the haul-out during the survey and from the original advertisement. We will be keeping the boat here in Miami, Florida until the end of hurricane season.

hauling her out of the water inspecting the hull

the main salon

the navigation station

the galley

the head

the forward V-berth

the aft berth for our future guests

Since buying the boat, we have been working hard fixing her up.

Graham climbing the mast to inspect the rigging. Sailing on Biscayne Bay in Miami, Florida

August 27, 2007

Sailboat shopping

2007-06-30T13:52:00.000-05:00

Hey everyone We've spent the last 2 weeks boat shopping in Florida and, if all goes well, have settled upon a 34' custom Creekmore cutter, fully equipped and ready to go. We're trying to think of names, as the current one is 'Bald Eagle'. Any suggestions? please email them. We'll post pics after the deal closes. June 30, 2007

from Zion to Yosemite

2007-05-15T13:42:00.000-05:00

We spent a few more days in Zion and climbed one of our favorite routes there, Shunne's Buttress. It is a phenomenal route with a taste of every style of climbing.

Sue on the overhanging finger crack pitch on Shunne's Buttress

We also made an attempt on Spaceshot. We climbed the first 4 pitches, but were scared off by some threatening weather. We decided to crag at the Cerebrus Gendarme area instead, where we could escape much quicker should the sky decide to pour down on us. Bad weather was on its way, so we headed off for Yosemite Valley. Upon arriving in Yosemite Valley, we did a little cragging at Chapel Wall. Sue decided to revisit an old arche enemy called Hedonistic Pursuit. Unfortunately she didn't fair any better, but she did manage to struggle her way to the top. Next time.... It rained the next couple of days. When the rock dried up, we did some cragging at the base of El Capitan. Staring up at this beautiful monolith, we realized that the time had finally come to tackle one of our dreams, to climb a route up the 3,300 foot face. We chose to climb Salathe Wall. The route took us 6 long days of climbing and we spent 4 nights sleeping on the cliff.

Salathe Wall on El Capitan

(asteriks indicate each nights bivy)

Day 1: The first day we climbed the first 10 pitches (about 1000 feet). This portion of the climb is often called Free Blast. At the top of the tenth pitch, we did a short rappel to Hearts Ledge, where we fixed 1000 feet of rope from this ledge to the ground.

looking up from the base of Salathe Wall

Day 2: The next morning we carried 65 pounds of water, 30 pounds of food, and lots and lots of heavy climbing gear and camping gear to the base. Then we ascended up the ropes we had fixed the day before and hauled up the "pig". The pig is a term used to describe the fat, heavy haul bag used on big wall routes. It is appropriately named, because our "pig" was even fatter and heavier than Graham (if you can believe that one). Anyway, we had to lug all of our water, food and equipment up the climb with us. Once arriving back at Hearts Ledge with our equipment, we proceeded to climb the next 3 pitches. The third and last pitch of the day is called the Hollow Flake pitch, a 5.8 chimney. Due to Sue's intense love of chimneys, she made Graham lead this lovely and terrifying pitch. Graham climbed up to a fixed piton, where he lowered down and then pendulumed (aka swung) across the face and into an offwidth/ squeeze chimney. He then climbed the squeeze chimney without protection for the next 100 feet. Placing protection would have created heinous rope drag, not to mention that the chimney was too wide to protect. We spent the night on Hollow Flake ledge, a small one and a half foot wide ledge, where we squeezed in like sardines (with our feet next to the other person's face). We slept like rocks.

getting ready to spend the night on Hollow Flake ledge

filling up on fig bars

Day 3: We awoke at first light, ate breakfast, packed up the pig and continued climbing. Lucky Graham got to start the day off with another chimney. This chimney, however, was nowhere near as terrifying as the chimney that he would encounter later that day. Later in the day he led a pitch known as 'the Ear' which according to Royal Robbins is the 'most terrifying 5.7 in the world.' Negotiating this traversing downward flaring squeeze chimney brought enough terror for one day. Fortunately, the remaining pitches for the day were fairly relaxing and low key. We ended the day at the most incredible bivy on the flat 10'x10' top of El Cap Spire which stands about 100' tall and is detached from the main cliff by about 3 feet.

looking up from Hollow Flake ledge on the day's climbing

Graham, stemming his way up to El Cap Spire

looking down on El Cap Spire

our comfy bivy on El Cap Spire

Day 4: The next day we climbed several more nice pitches. However, one of the pitches known as 'the Sewer' was not quite so enjoyable. To climb this pitch one must negotiate a disgustingly wet, flaring and steep chimney/ corner coated with slippery and slimy moss. Graham got thoroughly soaked leading this pitch and even Sue following got partially wet. After one more short pitch, we came to the top of a sloping ledge, where we decided to bivy for the night. Having some remaining daylight, we decided to climb the next pitch and fix a rope that we could quickly ascend in the morning. This pitch involved a pendulum, but otherwise was fairly straight-forward. After returning to our sloping bivy ledge to settle down for the night, we discovered that somehow we had managed to drop our topo map of the remainder of the route. Knowing that a retreat this high up on the cliff would be extremely difficult, this was fairly disconcerting. I doubt we will ever climb another multiday route without bringing an extra copy of the route topo.

the first beautiful pitch above El Cap Spire

Day 5: Luckily after pitch 26 which we had fixed, the remainder of the route is fairly straight forward. This in combination with people climbing on the upper pitches (the first people we had seen since day 2) allowed us to mostly relax with confidence we would find our way to the top. There were a couple dihedral pitches which were then followed by a giant roof pitch. This lead to the Salathe headwall pitches which brought us to Long Ledge for the night. With the slight unknown and some daylight remaining we again fixed the next pitch. We went for the free climbing variation which is a 12a bolted face off the left side. Long Ledge is about 30' long and 1.5' to 2' wide and slightly concave as it cradled us to sleep about 3000' off the ground.

a view of the route from the sloping bivy

Graham aiding out the giant roof pitch below the headwall

Waking up on Long Ledge

Day 6: In the morning we jugged up our fixed lines. The next pitch was a thin 5.10d crack that wouldn't have been anywhere near so hard if we hadn't been so tired! The following pitch had a short 5.9 squeeze chimney, which was the last challenging section on the route. The last and final pitch was a short 5.6 to the top. We topped out around 11am, happy to be on 'terra firma.'

On the summit of El Capitan

But then again, we still had 3500' to descend. We loaded up with about 70 pounds of gear on our backs and headed for the East Ledges descent trail. Unfortunately we took a 2 mile round trip detour trying to find it. This was just a little more exhaustion like icing on the cake. Once we got on track, we made it down without any problems. We made it down to our car with just enough time to swing by the grocery store for some good eats before collapsing in our tent.

We took four days of rest after which stir craziness set in.

Graham's rest day art

It was time to climb again.

We decided that we needed more time with El Cap, so we decided to climb the West Face Route. This route begins with a long approach followed by about 2000' of climbing. We planned to climb it in one day. We awoke at 4am, ate and began the approach. At 6:45am, we were at the base and climbing. The first couple pitches were 2 of the 4 most difficult pitches on the entire route. This 19 pitch grade V, 5.11c was a push for us. We got off track a couple times which brought upon the threat of getting benighted on the route. We pushed on as fast as we safely could, combining pitches whenever possible and were at the top in the dark around 10:00 pm. We headed for the decent route and after getting lost in the thicket a couple times decided to bivy for the night. This was a known possibility so we brought the emergency equipment, a.k.a. a lighter . We curled up around a fire at about midnight and stayed as warm as possible with ever a couple short periods of dozing. First light came and we were headed down very hungry and slightly dehydrated. A quart of chocolate milk each and a large batch of home made chili was breakfast followed by a nap in the tent. Tis the simple things that make life so good!

We did some cragging in Yosemite and headed back to Alabama where we reside for the moment. On the way back we did some climbing to make the drive tolerable.

May 2007

Zion, Utah

2007-04-28T16:39:00.000-05:00

We got sick of Vegas, and headed for the big walls and relatively lush vegetation of Zion NP. The approaches here are short and much appreciated after the long approaches at Red Rocks. We've been taking a fair number of rest days due to the rain as well as the strenuous nature of the climbs here. Our first route here was Touchstone Wall which we climbed at 5.11, C2, as we only aided the first 2 pitches. The stone here is a little soft, and the climbing naturally sustained which makes for some stout grades and heady leading.

Graham leading the C2 pitch of Touchstone Wall

Graham and Sue atop Touchstone

We then climbed Iron Messiah (grade IV, 5.10 R), a great trade route with a good dose of chimneys, 14 pitches, and a beautiful summit.

A couple rainy days followed after which we decided it was time to climb a bigwall. We chose Lunar Ecstasy grade V 5.10, C2+. This was Sue's first 'bigwall' and we forgot to take pictures of us chilling on the portaledge on the sheer wall (apologies especially to the parents). The views from the portaledge were unmatched and we slept like bricks.

Graham leading one of the C2+ pitches

Sue jumaring the overhanging Jarrett Finish on Lunar Ecstasy

Sue all loaded up with the 'pig' for the Decent

(lucky for her a gentleman from Germany carried it the last 1.5 miles)

Graham getting loaded up for the decent all decorated with empty bottles

like an Alabamian Christmas tree

April 28, 2007

Red Rocks, Nevada

2007-04-16T14:26:00.000-05:00

After leaving Moab, we decided to do some climbing in Indian Creek, Utah. We arrived in the afternoon of March 27th. That evening it began snowing. It snowed off and on for the next two days. After being tent-bound with the extended forecast still looking bleak, we decided to cut our losses and drive to sunny Red Rocks, Nevada.

Indian Creek, Utah

sunny Red Rocks, Nevada

We made a brief stop for some climbing at Chuckwalla Wall and Turtle Cave in Saint George, Utah.

Graham climbing at Turtle Cave in St. George

Sue climbing at Turtle Wall in St. George

On the evening of the 30th, we arrived at Black Velvet Canyon in Red Rocks. We spent a few days climbing here on routes including;

Dream of Wild Turkeys, Prince of Darkness, The Gobbler and Fiddler on the Roof.

After Black Velvet Canyon, we did climbs off the loop road in Red Rocks including;

Unimpeachable Groping, Power Failure, Ginger Cracks, Cayenne Corners (pitches 1 and 2 plus an accidental 5.11 first accent pitch), Cloud Tower, Dogma on Mount Wilson and also some cragging at the first and second pull-outs

cragging in the Black Corridor, second pull-out

cragging at the Fixx Wall, first pull-out

Most all of the climbing here has been excellent, but Cloud Tower and Dogma were the most memorable. Every pitch on Cloud Tower was phenomenal, and just when we thought the climbing couldn't get any better we emerged from the chimney (on pitch 6) onto the other side of the tower below the most gorgeous 160' sandstone splitter running up the corner of a clean dihedral. We highly recommend this route!

Graham finishing the last pitch of Cloud Tower

Dogma on Mount Wilson climbs the upper 2000' sheer cliff on the 3000' escarpment. The approach is an involved and technical "scramble" on fourth and easy fifth class terrain with difficult route finding (even just finding the start of the route). The hiking involves plenty of extra ups and downs in order to traverse a ledge that runs along the bottom of the mountain. When we reached the base of the climb we managed to go off route for the first two pitches. It was some of the most disgusting and heinous "bush-wack" climbing either of us had ever done. It was obvious that others had taken this unfortunate path, since we encountered many bail slings on the many shrubs and trees along the way. Fortunately we were able to link back onto the route and climb the remaining gorgeous 15 pitches. The most spectacular climbing was the steep and technical face climbing on the upper buttress. While we were on the route a police helicopter swooped by us and was seemingly trying to make a landing on the third class sloping ledge in the middle of the cliff. Luckily we were only mistaken for their prey, and they soon left. The top-out on Mount Wilson was a spectacular 15' wide table-top ridge, sheer on both sides. We were able to rappel the route with one 60 meter rope and hike out the way we came. It was 16 hours car to car, and now we are taking a much needed rest day.

Dogma on Mount Wilson

April 16th, 2007

Moab, Utah

2007-03-24T11:16:00.000-05:00

After leaving Huntsville, AL, we drove out to New Mexico to do a little climbing at Cochiti Mesa. Upon our arrival we found the access road gated off, so we asked the owners of Dixon's Apple Orchard near by about access. The road was closed for the remainder of the winter and the only way in was to hike across their property. This was the where we were reintroduced to the friendly, kind, and open hearted nature of people in the west. They gave directions and March 12th we walked in, got a little lost, but eventually found the rock. The landscape was beautiful, but the rock was not up to par so we decided to continue on into Utah.

the view from the hike to Cochiti Mesa

We arrived in Castle Valley at the climbers camp the evening of March 12th. Despite getting in late, we awoke early and hiked up to Castleton Tower to climb the Kor Ingals Route (5.9+). With a good heaping of chimney climbing, solid sandstone, and an amazing summit, this one is a classic and a great introduction back into desert towers. Our second day, we headed back up the approach trail to Castleton Tower and climbed the North Face with an alternate 5.11c first pitch. This route offered stunningly beautiful views, excellent cracks and phenomenal climbing. Another desert classic. Day three it was off to Sister Superior, but lacking a four wheel drive with high clearance we teamed up with our friends from camp, Joe and Michelle. Jah Man (10+) had it all, including a gorgeous 100 foot "thin" hands pitch (perfect hands for Sue) and a nice 10 foot diameter summit, 400' up. The entertainment was not over, however, when we got back to the truck. As we drove out about 100 yards from the main road, we were blocked in. Where the road crossed the wash one last time the embankment was steep and about 15 feet tall. Here we got to watch a Lexis SUV with 'All Wheel Drive' trying to get out. The kid was standing off to the side, the wife was waving her hands and "directing". The husband who had probably said "don't worry honey, we can drive down that" was getting the car more and more stuck. On one attempt he made it half way up, the AWD tires spinning and the car rocking on just two tires. After multiple tries and plenty of scratches to the bumpers, as the river bed was as narrow as the car was long, the wife kicked that stubborn mule out of the drivers seat, backed up into the opposite bank, slammed on the gas, and made it to the top in a huge cloud of dust. Meanwhile we were sitting back, snacking on chips and salsa, laughing our heads off, and video recording the whole thing. Alas it was time to put the truck in 4 low and drive on out.

Castleton Tower

Sue on pitch 2 of the North Face of Castleton Tower

Sue chimeying on Jah Man

Summit Shot, Sister Superior

Aside from one pitch at Wall Street on Potash Road and some easy hiking in Arches National Park, we spent the next couple days resting. In the afternoon on March 17th, we met up again with our friends Joe and Michelle, and headed out towards Canyonlands. We spent the night just outside the park. The morning of the 18th, we woke up before the sun and headed to the canyon bottom with Joe and Michelle in their truck. We planned to climb Primrose Dihedrals (5.11+), a classic seven pitch route on Moses tower in two teams of two. To kick off the route, Graham had to lead through an extremely difficult 5.11+ "boulder" move right off the ground. The rest of the route continued with long, sustained 5.10 crack climbing with full exposure to the hot desert sun. The fifth pitch (the Ear pitch) was a formidable challenge with 5.11 moves up a wide offwidth. We reached the summit tired and thirsty, but very satisfied.

Moses, stout 5.11+ boulder move

Moses, summit shot

We spent some time studying the feasibility of an alternate approach to Washer Woman/ Monster Towers which included a few rappels and, a number of GPS points, some orienteering, and then some jugging and climbing back out. Before departing from our attempted approach Graham decided to do a first ascent of a nice looking, slightly overhanging off fingers dihedral. At least it looked nice from the ground. The sandstone turned out a bit softer than expected. There was a nice short 5.11+ section in the middle, otherwise the term vertical mud comes to mind. The crack temporarily ended on a face where every hold either broke off or deteriorated from hands and feet and so the choice was between a big fall on a bad piece, or try to go further. Graham went further, pleasantly surprised to find a #1 Metolius placement on the face, and even more pleasantly surprised when it held a lead fall. Poor Sue was being constantly rained on with Graham's hand/ foot holds as they broke off. Long story short, the top was gained, lessons learned, as much sand digested as the average person eats in 5 years, and a little exercise to boot.

Graham on the First (and probably last) ascent of "Washout"

On March 23rd, while doing some laundry, we had the great fortune of meeting a man by the name of Tom. We got into a nice long conversation, and towards the end, Tom offered to let us borrow his 14 foot polyethylene dory for an enjoyable ride down the Colorado river. Again we were astounded by the friendly, kind and open-hearted nature of the folks in the west. The following morning, we met Tom and put in at Rocky Rapids. We started heading downstream. It was wonderful. As we rounded a bend in the river, we could hear that another rapid was ahead. When we caught site of the rapid, it was a little too late for us to steer to the side in order to pass through the calmer section. So, we headed right down the middle of the rapid, unavoidably heading straight for a hole. One moment we were looking into the hole and the next we were in the water underneath the overturned dory. Perhaps it was the cold temperature of the water (between 56-58 degrees) or perhaps it was from swallowing some water, but Sue was temporarily unable to breathe. Finally Sue's breath returned and we were struggling to hold on to the overturned dory and the oars. Graham tried a few times to right the dory, but without success. We eventually had to abandon ship and to swim for the shore. When we got out of the water, we were very hypothermic. Sue flagged down a passing car on the road. A Moab sheriff just happened to be passing by and stopped to provide assistance. He called an ambulance (which we are not sure was entirely necessary) and called search and rescue to recover the dory. When we arrived at the hospital, the effects of hypothermia had worn off and we were feeling better, except for some pretty bad bangs and bruises on Graham's elbow. Medical service was refused and we left to find Tom and the boat. The aftermath of the whole event has made for some headaches, such as a full day of driving to for Graham to get new orthopedic foot beds, along with all the bureaucracy of the whole event. Tom, a stranger just a couple days ago, has amazed us with his unwavering support, incredible kindness, generosity, and ability to make the best of the situation.

Tom, Graham and "CanTankerous"

In past travels what has bared the heaviest weight upon experiences and reflections is the people we've met. That statement holds as true as ever in regards to the past couple weeks.

March 24th, 2007

Huntsville, Alabama

2007-03-09T19:08:00.000-05:00

Somehow we managed to fit all of our sailing gear, climbing gear, kitchenware, clothing etc... in, or on top of, the car. Once we arrived down south, we fit right in with all the hillbillies. Items strapped on the car included a bike, cat box, cooler, and a jacket coated in cat piss flapping in the wind. We learned it takes a cat about 4 to 5 hours of constant meowing to lose its voice. It has been nice to see family on the way down, and to spend time with family here in Alabama. While here in Alabama we headed up to Tennessee Wall for 3 days of sandstone splitters in sunny 70 degree weather. The climbing there is best explained as some strange crossbreed of Indian Creek and the Gunks (no complaints). We are now headed west for a little rock climbing, rest, and relaxation. We look forward to living simply and in touch with our natural rhythms, which for us includes plenty of time in the vertical world.

Mar. 10, 2007

Portland, Maine

2007-02-18T11:10:00.000-05:00

On February 28th, we will be moving out of our apartment in Portland, ME. In the following months, we plan to travel around the country looking for a sailboat and rock climbing at various destinations along the way. Kate and Squeak will be staying with Sue's folks until we find a new home (our sailboat).

Our time in Portland has been wonderful. We will dearly miss the friends and family here. Hopefully, they will be visiting us on our boat!

Feb. 18, 2007