The Adamo Adventure

Galliot Cay and Pipe Creek

2009-03-19T14:14:00.006-04:00

We left Georgetown on a breezy Saturday morning leaving a fleet of hundreds of sailing vessels behind who had moored up for the season. The following week, the total number of boats in the harbor will balloon in preparation of the Georgetown regatta. My best guess is that there will be over 500 boats in the bay; based on all the traffic we saw heading there on our way up the Exuma chain.

Our sail started out a little spirited with six-foot seas on the nose while we beat our way out of the bay. Once outside, we veered north and made our way to Galliot Cut. As the day progressed, the sea state improved to the point Phil could throw out a line. Just as we were approaching the cut, he caught a large female mahi mahi on one of the lures he designed and built. How awesome is that? We invited friends from two other boats over for a sushi dinner aboard the Adamo.

The anchorage we were in behind Galliot Cay had a small beach tucked into the rocky coast. Erosion has carved the rocks into an overhang that spans the entire bank-side coastline of the small island. The north point looks like a giant stone iguana at low tide. At high tide, the rolling waves slap the bottom of the rocky ledge producing a soft sloshing sound that does wonders for nighttime sleeping.

On day two of our stay at Galliot, we had a cookout on the small beach.

Earlier in the day, Phillip took Susan for a dinghy ride to check out the waters around the cay. While they were motoring around she got a vibe and told Phil to check for lobster right under the boat. He put his mask on and took a look. Sure enough there was a large lobster. He plopped in and brought it back to the surface. “Here you go Mama!”

In the morning, the wind began to clock around. We knew it was time to move to a more protected anchorage.

We motored back out of the cut and sailed 20 miles north to Pipe Creek. On our way we hooked up with a good-sized bull mahi mahi. Phil saw the fish coming and darting from bait to bait. There was a lot of excitement in his voice as he said: “we are about to get a hit!” The rod bent down and the reel began zinging. “Fish on!”

When we reached Pipe Creek, the tidal currents were quite strong, so we dropped two anchors off the bow to form a Bahamian mooring. The first anchor is dropped in front of the boat, while the second is dropped behind the boat with a slack rode leading to the bow. As the current shifts between ebb and flood, the boat stays in the same spot regardless of which way the current is flowing since the front and rear anchors take turns holding the boat in place.

Phil and I explored the creeks and cays from the dinghy. Sue stayed on the boat to run a load of laundry. After our exploration, we returned back to the Adamo to prepare fresh mahi for dinner.

The front began pushing through that evening; the next few days were overcast and very windy. Phil spent much of his time working on home school. I did minor repairs and maintenance on the boat. Susan cooked and read.

As we were working our way up the Exuma chain of islands, our thoughts began shifting towards home. We were only two days worth of sailing from being back in the United States. Much had changed there. Much had changed with us too. One and a half years at sea calling on foreign countries and cultures changes you. It’s a journey not only of discovery of places and other people and cultures, but also of yourself.

We mingled with some of the wealthiest people on earth with their 200-foot mega yachts in the chic French islands of St. Martin and St. Barth, as well as some of the poorest people on earth living in straw and wooden huts on the Manamo river in Venezuela. We met cruisers who had circumnavigated the world. We had dinner with other adventures that had lived in all corners of the earth; global vagabonds who managed to make a living regardless of where they ended up. We met honest people and we met conmen. We spent time with welcoming people who would go out of their way to help us. We met people who where fascinated by what we were doing; living on a boat and sailing from country to country. We met people who were too busy to be interested in what we were doing.

Perhaps the most profound change for me was the realization that the things we American’s take for granted as normal are viewed as unusual or even bizarre by other cultures. I had spent all of my life living in first world countries in Europe and America. People work hard to live in large houses and drive what in third world countries would be considered fancy cars. We fill our homes with lots of stuff. When we have too many things, we put them into storage, a concept that is almost incomprehensible in some countries. Stress is high. Everyone is trying to get ahead. In contrast, the Warreo Indians had no real possessions and were perhaps the happiest people we met. Yet, that is changing with Venezuelan president Chavez handing out Yamaha engines to them. Now they will have to get money to buy fuel and parts to keep the engines running. They’ve never been in need of anything they could not produce themselves. That life style will be lost forever.

We live a privileged lifestyle in the US. But there is a price. We are always on the go. Time is the most precious resource and most people just don’t have time to fully enjoy all the things they accomplish. I would not advocate changing your lifestyle other than taking time to enjoy what you have accomplished and spending time with the ones you love.

On Easter Sunday April 11th, 2004 at the age of 37, I had a stroke that was caused by an undetected birth defect in my heart. I was mentally paralyzed and was unable to speak, read, or write. Over time, I was able to make a full recovery, but it was an eye opener. No one lives forever and you don’t know when your time will be up. You have to live your dreams while you can. Mine was sailing and I’m thankful that Susan and the boys indulged me and that our families supported our decision. Words simply can’t describe my gratitude. Many, many thanks.

Long Island

2009-03-09T09:15:00.004-04:00

One of the things we wanted to do while in Long Island was to go to the grocery store and to the fishing shop. The stores are about 5 miles from the marina. It’s too far to walk. Catching a ride is easy if you just walk down the main road, but with a load of grocery bags on the trip home, we thought it would be better to rent a car. We only need one for a short time. We inquired at the marina about renting a car for a half day, but they would only rent a car out for a full day.

Next I went down to a bar/resort called Rowdy Boys. They agreed to rent us a small Jeep-like car for a half day, though I never really settled on the price. The owner simply said she would work with me. I figured any discount is better than none. I picked up the crew at the boat and brought them back to Rowdy Boys to pick up the car. Some one had just finished washing the car and the engine was running. “There you go.” No one asked for a license or credit card. There was no contract.

We drove up the road to the stores and purchased our provisions. We stopped on the way back to top off the gas. Then it was back to Rowdy Boys to return the car. I gave the keys back to the owner. She looked at me and said: “how much should I charge you?” While I was thinking, she said: “how about $30”. I thought great. The daily rate is $80.
“That should cover the gas,” she added. I told her we had topped the car off. She then looked at me and said: “well, we are all square then. Have a nice day.” We rented the car for the price of the gas! That was our experience with people all over Long Island. They are just super friendly and kind.

The following day, we sailed 40 miles to the north tip of Long Island. We finally had wind that we could sail in, 20 knots on the beam. Phil had the fishing rods out again. He had a double hookup with two mahi mahi. One got way, but he landed the smaller of two, still a nice catch.

We anchored up in Joe’s sound. The entrance to the sound is through a curved, jagged rocky edged cut. At high tide you have about six inches of water under the boat and about three feet of clearance on either side. It’s a nerve wracking. There’s no margin for error. But, the pay off is that once inside, you have a smooth anchorage with an amazing view.

While in Joe’s sound we met some fellow cruisers, Karin and Klaus, from Hilton Head, who were originally from Germany. They were co-owner’s of Daytona Beach Boat Works as well. What a small world.

The following morning we moved to George Town to meet-up with our friends on S/V Footloose. They were surprised to see us, particularly since I said I would never set foot in George Town again. It’s just not a friendly place and is crowded with hundreds of cruising yachts that anchor up here for the winter. It’s like a huge, floating trailer park. Our plan is to get some propane and head up the Exuma chain as soon as possible.

Clarence Town

2009-02-20T12:11:00.005-05:00

Our arrival at the docks in Clarence Town at the Flying Fish Marina went smooth as butter. A slight westerly wind helped us steer the Adamo through an S turn past the breakwater and around the fuel dock into our slip. Maneuvering a 48’ foot, 55,000 lbs boat with only one engine and no bow thruster can become problematic in tight spaces if the wind is blowing the wrong way. Once at the dock Susan started doing laundry right away. I think she must have washed everything on aboard that was made of fabric, including clothes, sheets, comforters, rugs, rags, and bath and kitchen towels. The washer/dryer was running nonstop for two days. Shore power is a wonderful thing.

We thought we were only going to spend one day at the dock, but the 25 knot winds from the cold front that passed through on our first night in the marina, kept us there for two days. Even the larger twin-engine powerboats with bow thrusters were pinned to the dock.

Here’s the Captain and his new friend “Happy” chilling on the dock.

We were able to get an Internet connection, so we checked on our emails. Susan’s mom had copied me on an article about Allen Stanford and his $8 billion investment fraud. Stanford was the company I interviewed with in Antigua in November 2008. The facilities there were phenomenal and the show they put on was impressive. But while I was interviewing with the president of the bank, things were already in motion by the SEC. I commented to the recruiter after my interview that the president seemed a little distracted and was just going through the motions. I now suspect that while I was talking about my resume, he was thinking about how things were beginning to crumble around him. The pressure on him had to have been intense, but when you’re in that situation, you have to keep up the front. What a nightmare.

In retrospect, things are clear that something must have been wrong there. They used to fly clients in on the Stanford jet to Antigua. In the corporate hanger, a custom’s official would clear the client into the country where a limousine would then bring them past the new Stanford cricket stadium right in the middle of the airport grounds. The various Stanford subsidiaries had architectural masterpieces built among manicured grounds reminiscent of Boca Raton. There the clients would be wined and dined at the pool overlooking the cricket field in Stanford’s posh private club. Stanford International Bank was offering CD’s earning more than 10% per year. It was just too good to be true. Once the bank got the clients’ assets, the money would go into the “black box” that only Allen Stanford, his college roommate and the chief investment officer (who had no financial background experience) had access too. Incredible! Now investors cannot redeem their CD’s and the Bank has been placed in receivership. No one really knows how much money is left. The whereabouts of Stanford and his cronies is not known at this time.

After being on the dock for 2 days we moved to the anchorage and are waiting on the waves to subside. It is surprising how calm the anchorage is with the raging seas just beyond the reef.

Phil and I spent the day repairing the bottom of the dinghy on the beach. The hoisting hardware had ripping through the fiberglass, which caused a problem getting it up on the davits. Phil found some hammocks under palm trees and split a coconut while we waited for the fiberglass to setup. Later in the day, we brought Susan back to our find and hung out with fresh fruit rum drinks Phillip had fixed for us.

Unfortunately, one of the hammocks ripped and I went crashing to the ground with my short-lived rum drink landing all over me. Phil and Susan thought it was a riot. I was a little perturbed. Luckily, Phil had packed a cooler with refills and ice. What a good boy!

Moving On - Plana Cays and Long Island

2009-02-17T12:05:00.008-05:00

On February 12th the weather calmed and we left Abraham’s Bay in Mayaguana, our home for the past month. The island had been a surprise for us. We had not planned to stay more than a few days, but the friendliness of the people made us feel so welcome that we just couldn’t break away. The strong sense of camaraderie among the cruisers just made the whole experience even more fun. The fishing and lobstering was second to none.

As we headed west out of the 5-mile long bay, the morning sun was shining brightly behind us, illuminating the waters as we navigated through the scattered coral heads. When we entered the open ocean, a light easterly wind was not sufficient to push us through the seas that still showed signs of weeks of stormy weather. The churned waves would crest and push the Adamo forward faster than the wind was blowing. The sails would luff until we hit the trough of the wave. Then with a jarring bang, the sails would fill with air and push the boat forward again. We were forced to motor sail for most of our trip to Plana Cays.

When we reached the Cays, the beauty of the beaches was fantastic. We anchored in 25 feet of water in crystal clear water dotted with large coral heads on snow-white sand. It was breath taking. Our friends on Footloose joined us for a sunset cookout on the island.

In the morning Footloose headed for George Town to pick up friends of theirs. We had the island to ourselves. Phil and I hit the water early looking for lobster, but were surprised that there were none there. We had grown so accustomed to finding them easily in Abraham’s Bay that we were a little stunned to come up empty handed. The beauty of the dive however, made up for the lack of lobster though. Swimming 20 feet down and looking around was like being in an aquarium. Tall coral heads jutted up from the sandy bottom in water that was clear as looking through air.

.....Large Nassau Grouper under the Adamo (out of season, bummer)

After the dive, Susan and I went beach combing and came upon a blowhole in the rocky jetty on the south point of the island. I was fascinated by it because we had seen some on the north side of the island earlier that day that were spewing water and spray 30 feet up into the air. With the wind out of the northeast and at low tide, this hole was dry. I hopped in and managed to get a photo of what they look like on the inside. Very cool!

Back on the Adamo, we pulled down a weather report. Another front was due to hit in a few days. Plana is not a good place to be when the weather turns because the anchorage is fully exposed. In the morning we left just as the sun was peeking over the horizon, and motored 20 miles to Acklin Island. The wind had dropped to 5 knots and the seas had calmed finally stilled to three-foot waves.

We had read in the guidebook that Lovely Bay was a good spot to anchor. When we arrived, the entrance was difficult to find in the lighting. The sun was low in the sky and looking south all we could see was the sun refracting from the ripples in the water. Corral heads were packed tightly in the shallow bay. We found a sandy spot and dropped anchor. After an early lunch, we decided to abort the rolly, exposed bay and keep moving. The front was due to hit in two days and there is no safe anchorage in twin islands of Acklin and Crooked Island. We motored 38 miles west along the coast to Pits Town, Crooked Island. We were now a day’s sail from safe harborage in Clarence Town, Long Island. In Pits Town we took the dinghy to shore and went to a deserted beach bar for a sunset beer. It was the third day in a row that we got to see the “green flash” as the last rays of the sun set over the ocean.

Before sunrise the next morning, I checked the weather. The front had slowed down and was not scheduled to hit us until the late afternoon of the following day. We pulled anchor and headed for South Point on Long Island. We had heard that it was really pretty there. I knew that once we made it up to Clarence Town, we would not turn back south, so I pointed the boat due west for the 27-mile crossing. Phil put the rods out. Life was good. That is until . . . the first mate woke up. As you know she’s not a morning person. A change to the planned destination without discussion with her was not good. She had been looking forward to a night in a marina and being able to do unlimited laundry while on shore power. But I also knew that a navigation plan meeting is not an AMA (Approved Morning Activity), particularly before sunrise. The wrath didn’t last long. South Point had too much interesting activity for that.

Phil had been trolling for days without catching anything. He lamented that he must have forgotten how to fish! That idea came to an end when a mile off of Long Island he landed a huge Spanish mackerel. We where a little concerned that it might have ciguatera due to its size so we asked local fisherman. They gave us the okay and we fixed fresh sushi for lunch.

On the west side of Long Island, we anchored on a white sandy bank.

A flock of pink flamingos was standing in ankle deep water, while sharks and large stingrays roamed the shallows.

Phil and I took the dinghy to the local grocery store. When we inquired about buying rum, the owner called her brother Ernest, who came to pick us up in his car and bring him back to his bar. I had a beer while we spoke with him and the other patrons. When we were ready to leave, we bought to two small flasks of rum and set out on our way back to the dinghy. Ernest offered us a ride, but we wanted to walk. Phil has seen some fruit trees along the road and want to collect some. As we walked the grocery bags full of soft drinks got heavier and heavier. We began to regret having turned down Ernest’s offer, but we also knew from our month-long visit last year that it would not be long before someone offered us a ride. The first pickup truck that passed, stopped, backup and offered us a lift. Things hadn’t changed on Long Island. What a place.

At dusk, the soft light after sunset reflected off of the calm bay, while the sandy bottom, etched by the current, was still illuminated and visible through the clear water. Incredible.

Over the course of the evening, the wind died. At 5:00am we pulled anchor and headed for Clarence Town. The ocean was flat as we motored 25 miles, a thousand yards off shore. Phil had the rods out again. Two Spanish mackerel and a hit and run from a blue marlin and we arrived to safety to Clarence Town. It was the calm before the storm.

Mayaguana - Fishing Update

2009-02-08T13:32:00.004-05:00

9 Spanish Mackerel
3 Black Jack
1 Yellow Tail Snapper
14 Barracuda

All caught in under 3 hours of trolling on the South Shore of Mayaguana aboard S/V FootLoose!

Tom filleted some of the fish while the rest were released, Doris was at the helm, Phillip reeled them in, I gaffed them. It was unbelievable. We never went more than 3 minutes without a fish or two on the line.

We may get a break in the weather on Thursday. If so, we'll be moving on to Acklins and Crooked Island.

Cheers,

Adamo Crew

Welcome back to the Bahamas!

2009-01-24T11:35:00.008-05:00

Wow, its good to be back. On Saturday Jan 17th we made it to Abraham’s Bay in Mayaguana. The shallow five-mile long bay requires good lighting to navigate through it and with a rainstorm approaching, we dropped anchor for the night just inside the entrance of the bay. The next morning we motored in to check-in with Custom’s and Immigration. To our surprise, there was another sailing yacht in the anchorage. We made sure not to anchor on top of them. By the time we had set anchor and reopened all the hatches, a dinghy was approaching from the other boat. It was Tom inviting us for cocktails with his wife Doris that evening aboard Footloose. They had not seen another boat for over two weeks. For us, an invitation like that had not happened in a very long time. Cruisers in the Bahamas definitely have a different mindset than down in the Caribbean.

The town’s people are also super friendly. They stop to offer you rides if you are walking down the street. The administrator, Mr. Roberts, is very welcoming to his island. Our check-in process went smoothly with warm smiles from the locals. We even got invited to watch the Obama swearing in ceremony on TV several days later. Like the Bahamians say: ”It’s better in the Bahamas.”

After two days in our anchorage, three more boats entered the bay. One of them was a German boat from Arnis, a small fishing town along the German coast of the North Sea. I dinghied over to say “Guten Tag!” Peter and Petra invited me aboard their pristine steel hulled ketch. They had planned to head to the Turks and Caicos the next day, but changed their minds and decided to go diving with us instead. After a very successful day of spearing lobster, we were invited over for dinner aboard Meridian’s aft deck. Phil had speared a monster lobster in only six feet of water, the biggest of the trip. Check out these pics of Meridian's and Adamo's joint catch.

Peter and Phil worked on figuring out how to cook the thing because it wouldn’t fit into any pots. It was simply too large. They finally lopped all the legs and antennae off and managed to cram it into a pot while they pushed the lid down on it.

That one lobster feed the five of us. Phillip, for the first time ever, simply could not eat another bite. It’s too bad they could not stay longer; we really had a great time with Peter and Petra. A day later all the boats but Footloose had left the bay heading for the Turks and Caicos.

Tom and Doris invited us to have a guided tour of the island with them for Phil’s birthday. Our driver “Skully” showed us the island’s three settlements and one small tourist hotel. We also toured a cold war era US air force missile tracking station that had been abandoned since the 1980’s.

On the north end of the island the beginnings of a timeshare development has virtually been put on hold. One worker was finishing the concrete for the swimming pool on the only completed building. The remaining construction sites consisted of half erected walls and freestanding pillars with rusty rebar detruding from the tops of them.

For the past several days the crews from Footloose and the Adamo have been taking turns preparing gourmet meals from our bountiful lobstering and chonching expeditions.

After an early dinner we return to our respective boats and watch DVD movies that we have exchanged with each other. What a treat to see new movies!

We have no definitive plans for leaving Mayaguana at this point. The plan for now is to hang out and enjoy the fishing and the people. We'll also be completing Phillip’s home school for the month.

Passing through the Dominican Republic and the Turks and Caicos

2009-01-20T11:05:00.008-05:00

When we left Puerto Rico we thought we would sail through to Great Inagua in the Bahamas. But, because of the lack of wind, we had to have the motor running the entire time. Poor Bessie had been running for 36 hours without a break! We decided to pull in at Ocean World Marina, which we had heard is very nice, to dock up for the night to get some sleep. We also now needed to top up on fuel since we still had a long way to go to the Bahamas. I didn’t want to find us in a situation down the road where we were low on fuel later and not be able to run the generator to charge the batteries and keep the fridge cold. Finding fuel in the Bahamas can be a challenge. Furthermore, it was time for a fuel filter change for Bessie after her marathon run from Puerto Rico.

The marina was very well organized; even the Dominican Republic customs, immigration, drug enforcement, agricultural and navy officials were very efficient and had us cleared into the country quickly. This time there were no “gifts” solicited by the officials, as was the case in Luperon. I spoke with the dock master, James, about this and he said it took some doing, but they had finally gotten a system down to make the process efficient. Despite the D.R.’s burdensome regulations, it was the smoothest checking we have experienced in any country in the Caribbean. We didn’t have to fill in any forms. The officials did it all. My job as captain was to simply sign the documents. Awesome. This was a far cry from our experience in Luperon.

What was eerie though was the lack of other boaters. The place was deserted but for a few local boats on the far end of the marina. There were three transient yachts including us. We walked around the place thinking: “is anyone home?”

In the last blog entry, Phillip wrote about swimming with the dolphins. What a great experience! While we were in the marine park, a uniformed gentleman approached us and said there is a “20 minute” promotion going on at the hotel next door and he would like to invite us for the best Pina Colada we will ever have in our life. He pleaded with us to do it so he could get $10 and he could feed his family. We didn’t have anything else planned and accepted the invitation. A golf cart ride through the large and beautiful complex of immaculately landscaped yards and stunning villas led us to one of the many swimming pools in the compound. The oversized pool was impressive with its curved form and a sunbathing island in the middle. It was surrounded not by lounge chairs, rather solid, dark, wooden king-sized beds with bleached-white outdoor mattresses and pillows.

We were ushered up to the office to be introduced to our salesman. The salesman toured us around and showered us with small gifts, drinks and sushi. Everything in the place was first class. The 6 bedroom villas were exquisite. A gloved butler gave out cold hand-towels as we entered the expansive foyer.

This was a vacation club that was over the top. A fleet of helicopters picks guests up at the airport and delivers them to their villas when they arrive. No Charge. Weekly inclusive poolside buffets and dancing parties keep the guests entertained. Golf, tennis, water sports, king-sized beds on the beach, it was all there, and you can rent the villas for less than $900 per week. Some villas are oceanfront and rent for the same price and all come with a personal chef a golf cart and free limo transportation. There’s no limit to how many weeks you can book, not only for yourself, but for you friends as well. You can book multiple villas at the same time in different locations. We were told that several people have started businesses renting out the villas for $3000 per week and earning the profit on the difference. All you have to do in join.

Well, Sue and I were dying to know HOW MUCH? Our salesman would not disclose that. It had to come from his boss. We got the usual closing questions from our salesman: is there anything that would stop you from joining other than the money today? Bla Bla Bla. Then came the boss. $65,000 to join for 43 years. 50% down. Bank loans can be arranged on the down payment. The remainder can be financed with the company or by credit cards. He even showed us how you could use one credit card to pay off another so that you never have to pay interest. Red Flag #1.

My mind was racing while running the numbers in my head. How can they afford all of this with the low rental cost of under $900 per week? We asked for a copy of the sales contract to have our attorney take a look at it. “Sorry,” came the reply “we can’t do that. He will have to come here to see it.” Red Flag #2. Then more talking. “This is not a timeshare it’s a vacation club. You don’t have maintenance costs and yearly fees etc…You can’t do this in the USA because they require a deed.” It’s illegal in the US. Red Flag #3. More pressure: “You can look at the contract but we need to do business today.” Red Flag #4 and we were out of there.

Our conclusion: When you have a program that gives inordinately large benefits to the members that cannot be supported by the ongoing revenue stream i.e. $900 per week for a villa, and requires recruitment of new members’ to keep it solvent, its called a pyramid scheme (A la Bernie Madoff . . . no matter how impressive it looks). If the thing goes belly up your $65k is gone.

We enjoyed the drinks and the sushi, and it was a great experience for Phillip to learn that: if it sounds too good to be true . . . it is. We marveled at the people who would cough up $65k after a two hour wining and dining tour without doing proper due diligence. Maybe there are enough people out there to keep the thing running, but I wouldn’t count on it, especially in this economic environment.

Back aboard the Adamo we planned our next leg. We were going to leave at 9:00 a.m. for the fuel dock to take on diesel and clear out of the country, then sail directly to Great Inagua. The next morning it was pouring cats and dogs. So we had to wait on refueling because the fuel cap is located on the deck. If you were to open it up in the rain, all the water on deck would drain into the diesel tank. So we waited. The clouds cleared a little and we began the process of moving the boat from the slip to the fuel dock. Just as we cast off the lines it began to rain as hard as I have ever witnessed. Sue was on the foredeck in a windbreaker. I was comfortably sitting at the helm under the bimini top. She was wet. I was dry. She was pissed. I was OK. She had dried her hair with the hair dryer that morning. My hair was still dry. She smiled at me through the rain. I smiled back. She smiled some more. I knew I would never live it down. She looked like a wet cat. I REALLY wasn’t going to live it down.

Sue’s a good sport. A little eating of crow and three 3 days later she was fine. (Just kidding)

At 1:00 p.m. we were topped up with fuel and ready to go. The problem was, now we would not be able to make it to Great Inagua before sunset the following day. Our new plan was to sail west along the coast 25 miles to an anchorage at Punta Isabella. We had anchored there last year and knew it had good holding and was calm. Leaving the marina was very rough directly into the 25knot wind and huge waves that crashed over the bow. The Adamo labored out of the harbor at 4.5 mph and was pounding into the very tight 6-foot waves. Once out of the channel, we turned west and were riding with the waves. Things settled down immediately and we had a good sail to Punta Isabella.

We anchored up and fixed dinner. Just after dinner, a rowboat with three men aboard approached. They were the local commandantes. Pistols tucked in their pants’ waistbands, they asked for our “despachio” in Spanish. Only one of them could speak a little English. Then they informed us that we could not stay there. We explained that we were heading to the Bahamas but that it is a 24hour crossing. Arriving at night is not an option because of the coral reefs. We would leave in the morning.

“You must leave now,” came the reply. Sue was in the cabin and not having fully recovered from her fueling experience, began speaking loudly to them through the galley window. “You will be putting us in danger” she kept repeating. “Do you want to sink our boat? Do you want us to die?” It was a back and forth “you must leave now.” “No, we’ll leave in the morning.” After 20 minutes of discussion, we got permission to leave at 5:00 a.m.

After the local “NOT welcome committee” left, we checked the weather for our crossing. Just the day before the forecast was light variable winds. Now the forecast had changed to 22 to 28 knots of wind, 7-foot seas with a period of 6 seconds and 90% cloud cover. We had one really bad crossing in these waters last year from the Turks and Caicos and we weren’t about to repeat that one again. Our options were continue to head West down the coast to Monte Christo, another place where cruisers are not welcome, or beat east 12 miles to Luperon, the cesspool. Sue didn’t want another run-in with the commandantes and was pushing for Luperon. The thought of heading back to the stagnant bay full of fecal runoff put me into a mild state of depression. I could envision the small stray barnacles on Adamo’s hull and propeller multiplying like gremlins and feasting on the poopy water growing to the abnormal size of a fist. Our fresh water supply would dwindle down because you certainly cannot wash your dishes or shower with salt water there. I would rather take my chances with the commandantes in Monte Christo.

We went to bed to sleep on it. I checked the weather in the morning and the bad weather had been pushed back 12 hours. Sue said let’s go for it. I agreed. After a quick breakfast, we pulled anchor in the dark. Phil was at the helm, Sue and I on the foredeck. We were in 19 feet of water and bump. We ran onto something solid, either an uncharted rock or a wreck. Fortunately Phil was going very slowly and managed to immediately stop the boat and back off the structure. Susan had more pleasant things to say about the commandantes for making us leave in the dark. Now she was even more determined to leave this country and its ass-backwards cruising regulations!

We finally departed at first light. The wind and current were in our favor as we motor sailed at just under 10 mph in 4 to 5 foot seas all day. We altered our destination and headed for the Turks and Caicos so that we would arrive in daylight and avoid another nighttime crossing and the potentially bad weather forecast for that night. After a fine crossing we anchored up behind Big Sand Cay in time to watch the sun set. It was a good day.

Sand Cay was a rolly anchorage, but it beat being out at sea in stormy weather. No one complained. We sailed across the Turks Island Passage onto the vast Caicos Bank. With lightly overcast skies, navigating the bank was difficult. The depth on the bank is 14 to 18 feet with coral heads randomly sprinkled throughout. The navigation charts tell you “passage must be carried out by thorough eyeball navigation”.

We sailed across the lower bank and then back into deep water. At the edge of the bank the sea floor drops off from 18 feet to over 2000 feet. There is a distinct line in the water where the color goes from a light aqua blue on the bank to a deep dark blue you usually only see in open ocean sailing. A strange characteristic of the bank is that the aqua blue that goes on for as far as the eye can see reflects off of the bottom of the clouds. Instead of the usual grayness under a cloud, it turns to a light baby blue hue. Susan commented that if you were to paint it as you saw it, the picture would look fake.

During all this time Susan read three novels and was becoming restless. We have not been anchored next to any cruisers since Puerto Rico. It’s a little strange being the only ones out here, though we did see two boats heading to Provo so we do know there is other intelligent life out there. On Jan 17th we sailed 60 miles to Mayaguana, Bahamas (still no other boats). Our crossing started as forecast with 15 to 18 knots of wind. Then we crossed a squall line and the wind increased to 25knots and never let up. With the wind out of the northeast we were beating into it again. An eight-hour spirited sail and we were there. Phil read a book the first half of the trip then slept the remainder of the way. He didn’t even wakeup when I yelled “Fish On”. A four-foot Wahoo had hit the line he set at the beginning of the trip. Unfortunately, it jumped and flipped in the air shaking the hook free. And yes, you read correctly, Phil is reading a book for pleasure. Not just a kid’s book either, but a 500-page mystery novel Susan turned him on to. He’ll sit and read for hours. Sue and I just look at each other in amazement. He also learned how to write cohesive essays during our year and a half at sea. I am so proud of him and thumb my nose at the doctor who four years earlier said he would never be able to read and write properly because of his Scotopic Sensitivity Syndrome disability.

During the Mayaguana crossing Susan spent her time lying in the aft cabin holding on as we heeled and hobby horsed over the tight waves. She’s getting tired of the overnighters and all day crossings. Since Christmas we have logged over 800 miles. Only 650 more miles until we hit US territorial waters. Now that we have reached the Bahamas though, we’ll slow the pace down and enjoy the islands’ pristine waters and anchorages on our way home. It’s funny, on the way down to the Caribbean; you blow past some of the best and easiest cruising areas in expectation of great things ahead. It’s not until after you have done the Caribbean that you realize that some of the finest cruising grounds are right in your backyard. Granted you don’t have the history and culture that you find in the Windward and Leeward Islands, but you do have easy day sailing, often on the lee side of an island in crystal clear water with protected anchorages and great fishing and diving. It’s two totally different kinds of cruising.

Dolphins - by Phil

2009-01-10T06:33:00.006-05:00

Before we left Puerto Rico I spent a lot of time rigging my fishing rods, prepping for marlin. We caught a Spanish mackerel within twenty minutes of letting the lines out. We crossed the Mono Passage with out another a bite. Dad and I were talking about how we had no luck in the passage and zing – Fish On. I jumped up and grabbed the rod. I looked out and saw the monster I had been planning for, a blue marlin. He hit the big bait on the big rod, but he jumped and spit the hook, bummer. I was not upset that he got off because at least I hooked one and I got the satisfaction of knowing I planned on fishing for marlin. It is a long way home and I will catch one within that time hopefully.

Today we were in Ocean World Marina, a classy nice marina located near Puerto Plata, Dominican Republic. The marina has a casino, restaurants, and a marine park. I wanted to go the park to ride the dolphins and as an early birthday present, we got to go. If you are staying in the marina you get 40 percent off all the activities. We signed up for the sea loin encounter and swimming with the dolphins. Mom didn’t want to get wet so she said she would take pictures. At the sea lion encounter we got to pet and play ball with a 268-pound male sea lion.

That was very cool. At 2 o’clock we went to the dolphin area. When we got there and they gave us life jackets to wear. Mine was way two small but I wasn’t going to complain. We listened to the lecture on not touching the dolphin in certain spots because it may anger or arouse them depending on what spot to touch. After the safety lecture, we got in the water and two dolphins came to the floating dock we were holding on to. Their trainers were on the dock giving them commands. They did many amazing tricks as well as high jumps. We got hug and feed them. They pulled us around the pool by their dorsal fins and later pushed us from behind on our feet and lifted us out of the water.

It was a once in a lifetime experience and one of the best presents I’ve ever received.

The Mona Passage

2009-01-10T05:51:00.003-05:00

Anyone who has sailed down the island chain from the Bahamas to Puerto Rico has had to cross the dreaded Mona Passage. On our way heading South, we had a beautiful, smooth crossing. Perhaps too smooth, because we though “what’s the big deal?”

As we prepped to cross the passage on our way heading North, we were a little nonchalant about it all. We had a good weather window with the waves forecast to be 3 to 4 feet with 10 to 12 knots of wind. The day started out beautifully. The water was calm as we departed Boqueron. We fully expected another easy passage. Because the wind was non-existent at 6:00 a.m. we motored North up the coast of Western Puerto Rico and headed for Isla Desecheo, a small island about 10 miles off the coast. About 5 miles out the waves started coming from all directions with no warning. We were motoring at an angle to the waves that had the Adamo rolling from gunwale to gunwale. It was most uncomfortable. We tried changing headings, putting up the headsail and dropping the swing keel to no avail. About and hour later things settle down. Then without warning again, it stirred up. This process of letting up and then getting rolly again kept up for 28 hours as we motored the entire way due to insufficient wind. Things finally settled down once we rounded the Northeast coast of the Dominican Republic. Our 277 mile passage left us exhausted.

When you are in the middle of it, you think this is horrible. Particularly, since you just don’t know how long it is going to last. Things in the cabin start falling even though you thought you packed them away safely. Sleeping is nearly out of the question because your body keeps trying to hold even if you’re in the middle of your reverie. Sue woke up with a sore back from being tense all night long, fighting the rolling (not that she actually got any real sleep). I can’t even begin to imagine how ugly that passage can get when the wind is really blowing.

Here are some shots we got when things were calm. There were many ships in the passage as well as a pod of whales.

The crew enjoying a calm moment at sunset.

The north coast of the DR can be tough cruising but is beautiful with its sea side plateaus.

We had planned to motor or sail directly to the Bahamas, but because of the conditions during our crossing, we burned more fuel than expected. So now the plan is to motor sail along the coast of the Dominican Republic and pull in to an anchorage in the evening. We’ll work our way West until the wind picks up then we’ll sail to the Bahamas. At that point is should be a simple overnighter.

Puerto Rico With The Boys

2009-01-06T17:23:00.013-05:00

On the 7th day of Andrew and Doug’s visit, we sailed down wind to the western side of Culebra. Someone in town had told us about the bongo band that plays every Saturday at the waterfront bar beginning at 9:00pm. We tied up to one of the mooring balls and waited for nighttime. One really nice thing about Culebra is that most anchorages have moorings, a welcome relief to us because the windlass is on the fritz. One of the gears is stripped, so someone has to pull up the chain by hand every time we leave an anchorage. This gear is not something you’ll find lying around on the back shelf of a chandlery. I had custom ordered it and replaced it three years ago, so I knew what the problem was when the windlass quit working. I guess a year and a half of cruising did it in.

I searched the onboard files for the receipt and actually found it. I called up the company in Daytona Beach, Miller Bearings, to order a new gear. The gentleman who answered the phone searched for the specifications by the order number I had on my receipt. Then he asked for my name. When I told him, he asked if my wife’s name is Susan. “Yes, it is” I replied wondering how in the world he could know that. “I’m Gerad” he said, “I rent your house from you.”

A new family moved in to the beach house in the end of November. Andrew had made all the arrangements with them, so I had never even spoken with them on the phone. What are the odds that he was the one who took my call about the gear???? Gerad was terrific. He found a supplier that can make a new gear within a week or so. In the interim, we’ll be searching for mooring balls or be pulling the chain by hand.

The bongo band had the bar jam packed and hopping. We listened until about 11:00pm then headed back to the Adamo to get a good night’s sleep before our sail back to Puerto Rico Sunday morning. The forecast was for the wind to die down early in the week. It had been blowing 30 knots for days. We wanted to time our crossing so that we would have some wind, but not too much. This time everything worked out and we sailed west in 20 knots of following winds and 4 to 5 foot seas.

The boys had a week left before they had to fly back home for school. We didn’t have a solid plan yet, but we knew that we could rent a car from most anywhere in Puerto Rico to get them to the airport on January 3rd. Our first stop was Puerto de Naguabo at Hucares, a small town on the Southeast side of the island. Along the waterfront a strip of 20 or so rustic bars were brimming over with people trying to squeeze in every last bit of the weekend before returning back to work on Monday morning. Street-front vendors were cooking chicken kabobs on barbeque grills while blaring Latin music set a festive tone.

After a very rolley night at anchor, Phil and I went exploring while the rest of the crew slept in. There are several rivers that empty into the bay. We found one that was navigable and followed it inland for about 3 miles where the river opened up into a large brackish lake surrounded by mangroves for as far as the eye could see. Iguanas had begun their morning sunning ritual dotting the mangrove branches with their spiky green and orange bodies. Fish were splashing everywhere and Phil tried his hardest to get one in the dinghy to no avail.

As we headed back out of the river into the bay we spotted Cayo Santiago, a small island inhabited by thousands of monkeys. On the way down-island last year, we had anchored there for a night. It is prohibited to go onto the island, but our dinghy got us within 20 feet to watch all the monkey business on the rocky shore.

When we returned to the Adamo, the rest of the crew was up and ready to go. Sue had cooked pancakes and was ready to get out of the rolly anchorage. The bridle we had set the night before to minimize the rolling was no longer working because the wind had stopped and the Adamo was sitting beam-to the large swells entering the anchorage. After a very quick breakfast, the boys pulled up the anchor chain and we were on our way. We motored for the first few hours, waiting for the tradewinds to pick up. By noon the wind had increased and we were sailing in 2-foot seas on the lee side of the island heading for Salinas. Beautiful!

Salinas has a very protected bay, a welcome relief for the crew after the rolliness from the night before. Many cruisers hunker down for hurricane season in Salinas, as our friend Chris on Christa did. The entrance of the bay is completely surrounded by mangroves. Once inside, marinas, homes and restaurants line the shore. With the end of hurricane season, the bay empties out notwithstanding local boats and a few cruisers who have given up the sailing part of cruising and have resigned themselves to simply living on a boat moored in one spot.

We motored around the bay for a while and found a good anchoring place right in the middle. The boys dropped the hook and our sailing day was over. The next morning, while the wind was calm, I wanted to put up the headsail we had repaired in Marina del Rey. At 8:30 a.m. we began the process of changing out the sail. It was another trip up the mast for me to align the track on the roller furling. What a pain that thing has become. When we return stateside it will be coming down to be re-machined and aligned. In the meantime, changing out the headsail will have to be a slow, arduous process.

By 11:00 a.m. the old sail was down, and the repaired sail was lying on deck ready to be hoisted. We tried raising it, but the wind had picked up and the slides kept getting jammed. So the plan was, wait until the next morning and hope for calm winds again.

The boys decided they would take out the dug-out canoe. As you can see from the pictures, things did not go as hoped.

Doug did finally get the hang of it when he got the chance to go on it alone. By the end of the trip he was looking like a native!

That evening we went to dinner to get a break from cooking and doing dishes aboard. We wondered around town looking for the ideal place. We found a small hole-in-the-wall restaurant that served tacos and other local fair, and sat down at one of the small tables outside. The waitress took our drink order and gave us the menus. The prices were surprisingly really high. Then came the mosquitoes. “Abort, abort! Let’s go somewhere else.” The waitress only spoke Spanish. Poor Andrew had to explain to her that we were going to be eating somewhere else. He was not a happy camper.

After a hasty but not so smooth exit, we went back to the dinghy to try one of the restaurants on the other side of the bay. Phil, Doug and Sue ordered steaks cooked rare. When the steaks came out they were charged and dry. Andrew and I got a very fishy tasting, deep-fried seafood turnover. It was official; we had just had the worst meal of the trip. We should have braved the mosquitoes at the hole-in-the-wall place.

The next morning, in calm winds, we gave the head sail another try. It went up without a hitch and we were out of there. Salinas was not our favorite destination. We were off to Ponce.

The wind was almost non-existent as we motored west along the coast. We knew we needed to refuel in Ponce and refill our water tanks as well. It occurred to me that it was New Year’s Eve and that the marina might close early. We called ahead, and sure enough they were closing at 12:00pm for two days. Our ETA was 1:00pm. Here’s the surprising part. They kept the fuel dock open just for us until 1:30. We were thankful and very appreciative. We have found that the people in Puerto Rico are extremely helpful, friendly and welcoming. They take pride in their island and culture, and wish to share it with visitors. It reminded us of Grenada, Dominica and Anguilla.

While in port we checked emails and the weather forecast before setting out for Gilligan’s Island. We arrived just after sunset and gingerly entered among the coral reefs in poor lighting. We were all beat so after couple of games of Scattegories we wished each other a Happy New Year and went to bed early.

As the morning sun illuminated the bay, the beauty of the surrounding mangrove islands came to light. Phil and I motored around the bay between mangroves on the dinghy. You can see a pattern developing. The big boys slept-in again while we checked out the anchorage. Gilligan’s Island looks very much like one of the Florida Keys, where clear ocean water flows through shallow creeks between the mangrove roots.

There was no rest for the weary though. We had one more sail to go to reach Boqueron. On our way down last year, we rounded the south tip of Puerto Rico in the dark at 3:00am and had bypassed the Western end of the island altogether. We had heard from other cruisers that Boqueron is a great place and wanted to see it together with the kids.

We motored on a calm glassy ocean for hours before a puff of wind finally began to blow. Arriving in Boqueron by 3:00pm we were happy to be able to drop the hook for an extended period of time, or so we thought. Everyone but Doug wanted to go to shore to checkout the town. We took the dinghy in to find a small water-front area of town that had been cordoned off and was full of people celebrating New Years Day. Street vendors were selling shucked oysters and fresh clams. The smell of chicken on the grill filled the air. Souvenir shops and bars were spilling people into the street and the ubiquitous beat of Latin music pulsed in the background.

........................Boqueron at Dawn

Meanwhile, Doug was aboard playing his PS2. He heard someone shouting: “is anyone in there?” He popped out of his cabin to see two boats going by. He then went on deck to see what all the commotion was about. It was then that he realized that it wasn’t the boats going by him; it was him going by the boats. The anchor had begun to drag and the Adamo was heading for a collision with a third boat. The two guys, Mike and Charlie, who had alerted him hopped on board and headed for the windlass to raise the anchor. Doug started up the engine. Then came the question: ”How to do get the windlass to work?”

“Uhm, it doesn’t” came the reply. So Mike and Charlie weighed the anchor by hand . . . three times before she held. None of the guidebooks had mentioned the poor holding. When we returned from town the decks were covered in a soft, gray, gooey clay. It didn’t take us long to figure out what had happened. Doug was pretty good about it and took it all in stride. It’s a good thing the boys know how to handle the boat. We thanked Mike and Charlie and invited them for a drink in town later that evening.

As it turns out, even the local boats that have been anchored up for quit some time break free from the muck from time to time. A trimaran began dragging the very next day and was rescued by the same duo.

In Boqueron, we were blown away by the friendliness of the locals. During our first evening in town, we met Jorge and Kirby. They had a friend flying in from the States on Saturday, the same day the boys were going to be flying home. They offered to take Doug and Andrew to the airport since they were heading there anyway. The next day a waitress gave us admission tickets to a space observatory that her brother works at. The following day, the owner of the restaurant presented us with a gift-wrapped bottle of Puerto Rican Don Q rum, because we had never heard of it or tried it yet. Later that evening, the rum distributor was in town and invited us for a Mojito, a delicious rum drink garnished with fresh mint leaves. They were fascinated to hear about our sailing stories and quizzed us about the experience and shared their own boating stories as well. Overall, Puerto Rico ranks high in our growing list of favorites.

We are off to the Dominican Republic, or the Ragged Islands Bahamas if the weather is agreeable. We may be at sea for a few days. If we make all the way to the Raggeds then updating the blog will be difficult, but keep checking.

Adamo Out!

Christmas in Culebra - by Andrew

2008-12-25T12:38:00.012-05:00

After a close family gathering in the car, we arrived very stiff-legged at the Adamo. She looked as beautiful as ever; I was home at last! We spent the better part of the night unloading the car and putting away groceries. The marina has a golf cart service to bring you to the boat. In our case we were at the end of dock # 12, over a quarter mile from the parking lot. We filled two trailers behind the cart with provisions and travel bags. The boat was packed to the hilt with food and luggage by the time we were finished. I guess it didn’t seem so bad after the cramped car ride home… But, on the bright side, Santa came a few days early! We decided that since we never knew what day it was anyways, why not go ahead and give out the presents early and save ourselves the hassle of unpacking them later? Let’s see… for dad, a beer hammer and magnetic mechanic's tray; for mom, a set of stem-less wine glasses; for Doug, a car radio and a hand-made pen; for Phil, fishing stuff; and a plane ticket and pair of hand-made, wooden nunchaks for me. Merry Christmas to all!

The next morning the Adamo set out with a full crew for Culebra, an island to the east of Puerto Rico. The trip was typical. We hoped for good weather but instead got confused seas and rain. Welcome home, boys! The sea is a cruel mistress… That did not, however, prevent me from enjoying being back on the boat.

We bounced around several bays before finally settling on a bay called Ensenada Dakity. We pulled up to the mooring buoy and in one smooth motion hooked up to the ball with no further attempts or yelling necessary. It looked so professional. That night I awoke, bleary eyed, to bright lights, and the loud captain's bell ringing incessantly, and dad screaming, “GET UP!!! WE ARE ON THE ROCKS!!! UP, UP, UP!!!” Rocks? Huh? OH… CRAP! All hands ran up on deck. Phil, who initially thought we were under attack by pirates, emerged from his cabin armed and ready for a tussle, large knife in one hand and crowd control pepper spray in the other. When, he realized what was actually happening, he instantly jumped in the dinghy and began pushing the Adamo off of the sandbar (no rocks thank goodness). Dad was driving blindly through the bay while the GPS loaded up. It was pitch black, with only the circle illuminated by the spotlight visible in the darkness.

So how did we go from secure on the mooring ball with Phil screaming “GOODNIGHT!” to being on the rocks? It turns out that the knot that mom put the rope through was actually just a complicated slipknot. Pull on the ends and it all falls apart. Oops. We spent the following day relaxing, mostly basking in the sun and catching up on current events in our lives while the boys went fishing. The next morning, we moved to a new anchorage (hopefully one with better moorings). Mom stayed aboard while we went diving with the floating air compressor. This has to be the coolest invention ever created by mankind. No SCUBA certification needed!

We dove for lobster and fish, but I spent most of the time floating just above the coral enjoying the view. I never saw any lobster, but I did see a myriad of other animals though. We followed that with a bath in the ocean and a walk on the beach. The terrain on the island was rough, but nevertheless, the beaches were beautiful and laden with ripe, tasty sea grapes and coconuts.

We picked up anchor that night and moved to yet another anchorage. Our plan is to stay until Saturday and see a band in town. Reefs shelter the anchorage we moved to, so the waves are small, despite the strength of the howling winds. This made the conditions perfect for sailing the O-pen Bic: our little on board sailboat. Doug had been all about that damned Bic for days. Bic this, Bic that, Bic, Bic, Bic, Bic, Bic. Finally, he got to sail the Bic! Dad said, “The wind is picking up.” Doug’s reply? “You know what that means?! (he sang the theme from most baseball games using his own words) Bic, bic, bic . . .” And boy oh boy did he sail that Bic. He all but lifted off the water and flew away; he was moving pretty good.

Doug also was all about watching The Dark Night, and was pushing for batman all day. He was so happy when we watched it. His vacation was almost made. He had two other goals: catch a tarpon and paddle the dugout canoe. Phil, on the other hand, was not satisfied yet. The bay has an abundance of Tarpon, which Phil also wanted to catch. Phil fished all day and for hours at night. It finally paid off when he landed the big one. We were inside when we heard him cry out, “FISH ON!” We looked out of the salon windows at the illuminated water surrounding the Adamo. A large tarpon was jumping like a kangaroo trying to escape the line. Then I heard the crazed fish jump and a loud flop on the deck followed by the characteristic slapping of a fish tail. It had jumped and landed on deck; right next to the large open window! No sooner had dad shut the side-window than the tarpon slammed up against it slapping its tail every which-way. We can only begin to surmise the havoc that this 3 or 4 foot long mass of flopping muscle would have caused INSIDE the boat… tarpon have a horrible fishy odor which they leave behind with an inordinately large amount of slime covering their bodies. Thankfully, the fish managed to flop back in the water. Phil proceeded to then hook another one, which he gave over to Doug to fight. They each ended up with a scale as a trophy of their catches.

This morning, we awoke to a champagne breakfast: French toast and mimosas for all! As of right now, Phil and Doug are out fishing, Mom and Dad are drinking wine, and I am about to go on deck to enjoy a beer and the tropical sun. Cheers and Merry Christmas!

The Airport Trip

2008-12-25T06:41:00.009-05:00

It was the day of Andrew and Doug's arrival in Puerto Rico and we were all excited to finally get so see them again. We had rented a minivan for the day to provision the Adamo at Sam's Wholesale Club and pick up the boys at the airport. When we walked into the car rental agency, the lady at the counter informed us that the minivan was not available, despite the fact that we had reserved it over a week ago. The previous renter simply had not returned the van. Our option was to get a Toyota Camry, which we exercised.

The shopping trip to Sam's filled the trunk . . . entirely. Keeping enough food on board with three teenage boys is always a problem. As we drove to the airport, we were hoping that Andrew and Doug had packed light. Wishful thinking. Doug had brought down everything we had requested from the States in a huge duffel bag. Andrew also brought his monster duffel bag stuffed to the hilt. Two crammed backpacks rounded out the travel accouterments. Naturally, the boys have grown quite a bit themselves. The five of us stood around the Camry in the airport parking lot, giggling and scratching our heads. How was this going to work?

We did manage to cram it all in. And, I must say, as the driver I had plenty of room during our one-hour drive back to the boat. The same could not be said for the passengers.

.........Are we there yet???

The Twelve Days of Christmas

2008-12-21T12:12:00.002-05:00

On the 12th day of Christmas my truelove gave to me:

Twelve Bud Light Bottles
Eleven Divers Diving
Ten Conch Horns Sounding
Nine Topless Tanners
Eight Margaritas
Seven Swimmers Swimming
Six Spiny Lobsters
F I V E DAYS OFF WORK . . .
Four Flopping Fish
Three French Wines
Two Sunny Days
And a Floater in a Rum Punch

MERRY CHRISTMAS!

Culebra - Spanish Virgin Islands

2008-12-17T14:12:00.004-05:00

...........Culebra Sunrise

..........Moon Setting

....Bahia de Almodovar looking out over the Caribbean Sea

.......Solitude, not a boat in sight all week

.........This guy means business!

.........Check out this Redheaded beauty

...........King Mackerel - Dinner by Phillip!

...........Waterfront Bar

...........Downtown Culebra

St. John, USVI by Sue

2008-12-16T07:50:00.011-05:00

.........Frigate flying overhead in the VI's

We sailed to Coral Bay in St. John with the anticipation of surprising our buddy Chris on S/V Christa. We anchored in haste and got out the binoculars to scan the anchorage for Christa. We didn't see her so Phil took out the dinghy and searched further. No Christa to be found. I knew from his blog that he was supposed to be in Coral Bay so we were disappointed. We thought we had missed him. We were determined to get in touch so we called his cell...no answer. Then I thought.."let's check the internet one more time." He had posted again and there was a video clip that showed him on a "day sail". We laughed...."a day sail"??? We have been day and night sailing our tails off, to just sail in a circle did not compute! However, he revealed his anchorage in the clip which was just around the corner at Johnson's Bay. Off we went to say hello. We were knocking on the haul and finally he appeared. He looked at us in denial. "Adamo?" He couldn't believe his eyes. He had been on our blog where we had just posted the Dominica pictures so he figured that we were there. He was totally surprised! Mission accomplished! He was dumbfounded and even said that he saw us come in, but knew it just couldn't be us! We then went to Skinny Legs, a bar and grill, in Coral Bay. It was great to catch up on each others adventures which always includes much laughter. We ate burgers that were unbelievably yummy, Welcome to the US and A!

The wind was blowing to the tune of 30 knots or more. We were glad to be in an anchorage and not sailing in it. As we looked out the window we could see Chris jumping around in his cockpit. We called him on the radio. "It's a gale!", he yelled. He had his engine on and was in full battle mode. Again we laughed as Chris is obsessed with the weather having spent the hurricane season in Salinas, Puerto Rico where several hurricanes brushed by. He checks the weather several times a day. We, on the otherhand, are more relaxed about the squalls having experienced them frequently while sailing and feel secure in anchorage especially after Mike has dove the anchor.

We went for a farewell dinner at Skinny Legs. Once again it was a night full of laughter and fun. After dinner he introduced us to the local wildlife.

Speaking of wildlife. Check this lady out. What do you think is going through her head??? There's a saying in the Virgin Islands: "if your here, you're not all there."

Montserrat Photo Journal

2008-12-16T07:30:00.011-05:00

............Active volcano in Montserrat

...Destroyed City of Plymouth (major eruption occurred in 1997)

............We're sailing through that?

..Volcanic rock that landed on the Adamo, well . . . pebble really

..........Phil's treasure chest

Iles de Saints

2008-12-12T06:13:00.015-05:00

While in Dominica, Sue booked flights for Andrew and Doug to Puerto Rico for their Christmas break. Now we are sailing on a schedule to make it there by Dec 20th. With that in mind, we said our goodbyes to Ian and Tracy and departed from our all time favorite tropical destination. Our next stop, Iles de Saints, a small cluster of island 10 miles south of Guadeloupe. In the mean time, the Loon crew was heading south for the season. The wind forecast for the day was 15 to 20 knots. What we actually got was 25 to 30. It was a spirited sail for us, but a short one since Iles de Saints is only 20 miles from Dominica and has somewhat protected seas. Loon on the other hand had a much longer crossing to Martinique with open ocean waves. Here is the excerpt of their crossing from an email we received from them.

Mike should read this aloud in the style of the Norwegian Chef from the Muppets!!

Fewrst wee puut the sail uoop... then wee took the sail dooown. The seeee wus like a rowler cooste... fewrst wee went ooop tyhen wee went dune...ooop and dune, ooop and dune, bouncy bouncy bouncy like the chicken in the busket. A man stood on the dack throoowing wurter at us awl day. we wur wet wet wet wet wet und cold ..... Brrrrrrrr.

Funny, funny, funny. We will miss them.

We reached the Saints before lunch, but chose to stay aboard to recuperated from the super active schedule we had with Loon during the past week. The following morning we ventured into town to clear customs and shop for French baguettes and Brie. Yummy Yummy. It was a drizzly day, so we spent much of it aboard the Adamo. The following day, we rented scooters and explored the island. Phil road on the back with me while Sue rode her own. I did let Phil take it for a short spin on his own. He loved it. It reminded me of myself when my parents let us ride mopeds in Bermuda at that age.

We took the scooters up the hill to Fort Napoleon. The fort is in excellent condition and is built like a medieval castle, including a mote and a drawbridge. It was very impressive and was in the best condition of any of the forts we have seen in the Caribbean. Inside was a museum displaying 18th century dress and weapons, model square-rigged war ships, local fish and traditional tackle, and a section on the Carib Indians.

A French tour guide was explaining a naval battle which was won by the British. I got a chuckle out of hearing her tell the tourists that “the wind was in favor of the British and unfortunately we lost the battle.” The French tourists let out a little “auuh”. It was painful for them to hear the story. I guess centuries of fighting over territory with the Brits is difficult to overcome.

We left the fort and toured the rest of the island, driving down every road we could find.

By 11:30 we had seen all there was to see. We stopped at a quaint water front restaurant for appetizers and a glass of wine, then proceeded in search of a grocery store to stock up on dish detergent and more baguettes.

Phillip has spent the last few evenings rebuilding a Penn Senator Real he obtained from a salvage job by Ian. After having disassembled and reassembled it 3 or 4 times, he came to the conclusion that several parts were seized up and needed replacing. Once something is in that boy’s head, you can’t get it out. So he researched the part numbers on the web, called Penn, ordered the parts for delivery to Gandmom’s and Grandpa’s house so Doug can bring them down for Christmas.

We departed the Saints on Thursday Dec 4th and sailed to Montserrat. The capital city of Plymouth was destroyed in 1997 by a massive volcanic explosion. The volcano still spews ash and small rocks. As we approached we could see the mountain smoldering. We passed on the West side of the island through the ash cloud. When we hit the middle of it, small bits of Earth’s debris rained down on the Adamo. The boat looked like it had been sand blasted by ash on the windward side. Thankfully it all washed off with our pressurized saltwater hose, because the first mate wasn’t too keen on the captain’s decision to pass that close to the “Ash Hole”. But how often do you get the chance to see an active volcano and smell the sulfurous, molten rock scent emitted by the Earths core? Needless to say, the cleanup was up to the boys. While we were scrubbing the decks, Phil found a small volcanic Rock lying on the coach roof and added it to his “Box of Treasures” he keeps in his cabin.

Our intention was to anchor on the north side of the Montserrat, but the northeasterly wind had whipped the calm bay into a rolly respite. We continued on to Nevis which we knew would be better protected from the wind. In addition, Nevis has installed a huge mooring ball field, making it an easy spot to rest for the night.

The following morning, after updating the blog with photos from Dominica, we set sail for St.Croix. The crossing to St. Croix is a major one. We departed at 12:00pm. Phil had been rigging his rods all morning and was determined to hook a marlin. I had purchased a copy of “Marlin”, a fishing magazine, covering the latest techniques for landing the big one. Son of a gun, he hooked one. Unfortunately, it was on the smallest of the three rods he had set. We watched the marlin hit and re-hit the rig, his dorsal fin piercing the aqua-blue ocean surface. He batted at the bail over and over again until it hooked up. Then, zing as he pulled on the drag. The fish pulled all the line off the reel as well as the pin that the bitter end of the line is tied to. With a sharp snap, the excitement was over. Hats off to Phil for figuring out how to angle for the king of sport fish.

The Adamo sailed downwind for 18 hours to Christianstead, St. Croix. It was a new motion for us since we are so accustomed to beating into the wind or occasionally sailing beam reach. It almost was a new learning experience for us to get the boat going with the wind. We did make good time and actually arrived before sunrise, so we sailed around in front of the island to kill time until it got light out. We did not feel comfortable entering the harbor in the dark because it is a tricky entrance. Particularly in light of the fact that they had sustained hurricane damage from Omar and we did not know if the navigation markers were still intact.

On Dec 6th we arrived in Christianstead and it almost felt like home. As Phil and I walked through town, we greeted and spoke with people we had gotten to know during our last visit in June. It really did have a small town feel to it. We ran into Nancy, the regional HR director of the company I have been interviewing with, at one of the outdoor restaurants on the waterfront boardwalk. At first Phil though I was goofing around and had simply overheard her name from the waitress. As the conversation proceeded and she invited us to sit down with her, he realized who she was. Now, Phillip has good manners, but he cranked it up a notch, removing his sunglasses so he could look her in the eye as he shook her hand. Yes, I was proud. By the way, the status on the job is they liked me and are looking for a good fit for me in the company, either in the Caribbean or in the US. It will take time though, so we are not counting any chickens and are proceeding with our journey.

I would have liked to have spent more time in St. Croix. Sue noticed and commented that I look happy here, but the weather forecast was predicting a shift in the wind that would make the crossing to St. John more difficult, so on Sunday we set sail. We knew that our friend Chris on S/V Christa was moored up in Coral Bay on the east end. (Chris is the guy we served the grouper eyeballs to after his initiation into spear fishing in Rum Cay in the Bahamas last year). He has temporarily relocated there and is a captain on a tourist boat.

As I sit in the cockpit writing this blog, I would have to say the St. Croix to St. John crossing ranks among the top crossings since we left the States. 19 knots of wind, beam reach, perfect temperature (82 degrees), low humidity, calm seas and we’ll be arriving in the daylight for anchoring; though it is a little strange to hear “Silver Bells” and other Christmas carols playing on the radio in this tropical setting.

Dominica - Photo Journal

2008-12-07T07:13:00.011-05:00

.............Portsmouth Anchorage

.............North side of Island

............Fishing village

.............Front passing through

..........4:00 am at the Saturday market

..........more shopping

.........Talk about fresh meat

...6:30 am at the Saturday Market. Still shopping.

..........Lunch Break

.......Phil nicknamed him "Jack"

.......Phil and Jack or is it Juan Valdez?

A Walking Tree. The roots drop from the branches. Overtime the tree walks and spreads throughout the forest.

........Banana farm

..........Picking Fruits

........The mother of all Coco-nuts!

...........The Bounty

....Trees along the Indian River

........Simple living

.........Home in the hills

Dominica - Meeting All Expectiations - Sue's View

2008-12-03T09:22:00.007-05:00

We arrived in Dominica at 10 o’clock at night after having to change out the headsail and getting a late start from Fort de France. The sail was what we call a “spirited” sail with 30-knot winds and 6-7 foot seas at a beam reach. As Phil and I were on the bow with a spot light trying to pick up the mooring ball, we couldn’t believe our eyes as a boat boy approached. It is difficult to come into port at night and the added distraction from the boat boy was too much. We told him we were tired and we would talk to him in the morning. The next morning we met up with S/V Loon to walk around town. The people in Dominica are extremely friendly and welcoming. We found a newly opened restaurant that was having a Thanksgiving Dinner the following night with turkey, stuffing, mashed potatoes, gravy, corn casserole, cranberry sauce and pumpkin pie! We made reservations!

The dinner was great, but we sorely missed having seconds. Feeling sorry for Phil, I gave him half of my meal. He has been eating so much lately and growing like a weed. His feet are now as big as Mike’s and he is taller than me. He is always hungry. While at the restaurant we met some medical students from Ross University, an American University just south of Portsmouth. They were taking a rare break to have a nice dinner and then heading to the library for the night. They are in an accelerated program where they complete their bookwork in 18 months. It sounded intense!

We decided to rent a car the following day. Most of the time when we rent a car in the islands, we get a tiny car that we call a tic-tac. However, here we rented an SUV.

As we began our adventure we realized that you would never make it in a tic-tac over the mountainous terrain.

Phil loves to collect the local fruits and has an eagle eye when it comes to spotting them. It became comical when every 100 yards he would be screaming for us to stop so he could pick some fruit or other. We collected a trunk full of grapefruit, oranges, tangerines, bananas, star fruit, passion fruit, breadfruit, breadnut, guava, avocados, mangos… The land is lush and plentiful.

................Ian collecting Breadfruit

It is a tropical paradise with palm trees mixed in the lush green forest. There are farms everywhere even on steep mountains. Dominica has 365 rivers, one for each day of the year. It is by far the most beautiful island I have ever seen.

We drove into the mountains collecting fruit by the side of the road. At one point while stopped, a taxi also stopped in the road to chat and gave us some tangerines. Like I mentioned before, everyone is incredibly friendly and helpful. We came to a small town on the west side of the island. We asked a man if there was a restaurant or store where we could get some lunch and he said, “follow me.” So we drove behind him down the street to a little cantina. While there, several locals came to chat with us and welcome us to their island. The Dominicans are very proud of their island. Although they are very poor, they are happy, proud, friendly people who want to share their fortune. They keep their island clean and have a positive outlook in life. Outside the restaurant, Mike, Phil and Ian met Stephen, a Rasta mon and the Prime Minister’s father.

He welcomed us and told us to spread the news of Dominica to our friends, as they want foreign investment. We departed the village and 10 minutes up the road, a pickup truck was following us and honking. We pulled aside and Stephen jumped out of the truck with a bunch of ripe bananas for us! Again, we were flabbergasted by his generosity.

Next, we ventured into Carib territory. We arrived at the tourist center and took a tour of the Carib Indian camp. The guide was a soft-spoken girl who led us through the park showing us the ways of the Caribs. In the area designated for the Caribs, you could see the difference in the features of the Indians in comparison to the Dominicans. They look more Spanish Indian. They, too, were extremely friendly. As we stopped to see a star fruit tree, a family came out and cut open the star fruit for us to try, then climbed up to get some for us to take with us. Once again, we marveled at this open friendliness.

We drove all day and explored the northern half of the island.

...........Phil found a friend tied up in the woods

It was dark on drive back to Portsmouth along very steep and winding mountainous roads. At one point we asked directions and a man told us to follow him in the car. He led us to the University at the edge of Portsmouth, even waiting for us along the way as a truck cut us off.

After returning we stopped at the bar where we docked our dinghy for a beer. We were talking to Avril, the server, who said she had never been on a yacht. So we invited her out to the boat the next morning after the market. It was the least we could to.

At 5am, before dawn, Ian and Tracy arrived knocking on the hull to wake us up for the market. You have to arrive early before the crowds. It was great to see the people setting up their tables and opening their vans to sell their produce. Before long it was light, and we bargained for our goods. It was lively. We also went over to the meat market and bought some beef. As you can see in the pictures, it was not quite like buying meat at home.

In the guidebooks, Dominica is given a bad reputation because of a cat burglar that robbed a boat many years ago. We, however, felt very safe here. We found this island to be our favorite in the Caribbean and would recommend it to all.

One Week of “Loon-a-Sea”

2008-12-03T09:21:00.003-05:00

Having met up with Ian and Tracy, we wasted no time getting started with our next adventure.

Hurricane Omar had hit the coastline of Martinique hard. Many of the waterfront restaurants, bars, shops and docks were damaged. Add to that the stark utilitarian style of architecture prevalent throughout most of the French Caribbean islands, and the romantic idea of a quaint tropical paradise melts away.

........Notice broken Dock in Background

Ian had rented a car for provisioning, so we turned the grocery trip into a tour of the island while we were at it. As we drove away from the coast to the interior, the natural beauty of the volcanic island came to light. Phil, of course, was searching for street side fruit trees, piping up each time he spotted one. The trip up the volcano was a stop and go affair. But, we managed to load up on avocados, oranges and grapefruit. Phillip’s favorite four letter “F-word” was being used frequently through out the day: “FREE”. Even Ian got into collecting fruit.

The city park was perhaps not the best idea, but non-the-less, he caught the fruit gathering fever.

We all noticed that the roads were incredibly well maintained. They were wide, newly painted with excellent signage, a real surprise for us after Trinidad and the Grenadines. The French have invested heavily in the transportation infrastructure on the islands.

As we headed up Mnt. Pelee, the temperature began to drop. It was the first time since June that we were actually comfortable walking around during the day. Sue was in heaven, Tracy was cold.

We reached the end of the road about 2 miles from the crater’s edge. At this point we were right at the cloud-line. A trail leads visitors the rest of the way to the summit. Unfortunately, we did not plan well. It was a 4-hour round trip hike. Not an option for us at 4:30pm. We followed the trail to the first resting point, enjoying the cool temperatures and the novelty of hiking in the clouds.

After a photo-op, it was back to the car and further exploration. After shopping at the “Hyper-U”, a gargantuan grocery store, it was off to the boats to prep for the crossing to Dominica.

On snafu on the Adamo was the tear in the headsail. The wind had been blowing hard for days, so we never had the chance to change it out. We decided to tuck in behind the more protected coast north of Forte De France in the morning.

The following day, we motor sailed north until we found a protected bay. The conditions were okay for changing the sail, but certainly not ideal. We unfurled the torn sail, released the halyard and pulled it down about one foot before it got stuck. Great! The tracks had come out of alignment. It was going to require a trip up the forestay to correct the situation. Sue and Phil hoisted me up in the bosom’s chair, while the sail flogged us all. Three times up and down the mast with a hammer in my teeth, hanging upside down like a monkey, pounding the tracks with my Neanderthal tool and the replacement sail was in place. What a nightmare. I hope this sail makes it all the way home. The thought of doing that again makes me cringe. It almost brought out the “Angry German”.

By now it was 1:00 pm, cutting it close to arriving in Dominica during daylight. The wind was blowing at 25knts with the the Adamo booking it at over 8knts. When we rounded the north tip of Martinique, the waves kicked up to 7 feet with an additional 5 knots of wind.

Not a bad crossing, but certainly not comfortable either. As we reached the south end of Dominica, the sun had just set. We knew we would now be anchoring in the dark and decided to press on to the North end and our ultimate destination in Portsmouth.

Together at Last

2008-11-27T15:29:00.004-05:00

On Saturday morning our onboard email message indicator illuminated. Everyone aboard the Adamo gathered round in hopes it was from Loon with their position. As it turned out, it was from them and they were anchored in a bay 4 miles from us. Without further ado, we cranked up Bessie and motored to Anse Mitan. As we rounded the corner Ian and Tracy spotted us and a call came of the VHF: “ADAMO, ADAMO . . . LOON”.

We anchored next to them and invited them over. We celebrated aboard the Adamo with mimosas and lots of stories and laughs. Ian and Tracy had a horrible experience with laying their boat up for hurricane season in Antigua. They hired the same guy we used to bottom paint the Adamo there last April. They paid him $100 up front and $50 per month to check on the boat in the yard. All he had to do was make sure everything looked fine on the boat and report any problems back to them.

He didn’t check on the boat once. When they returned from England the bilges were underwater due to all the heavy rain from several hurricanes (boats are not really water proof, just water-resistant). The batteries were all flooded and the boat was a mess from all that standing water in it. Fortunately, they had a contract with him and held his feet to the fire. He replaced all the batteries and helped clean out he bilges. What a hassle.

Dominica Delayed

2008-11-27T15:28:00.003-05:00

................Diamond Rock, Martinique

On Friday November 21, the crew prepared to depart Martinique for Dominica. After a last minute trip to the grocery store, topping off on water and clearing out at customs we were ready to go. Susan was in the Internet café checking e-mail when we got the news that our friends Ian and Tracy on S/V Loon, had just arrived in Martinique. We had originally planned to see them in Dominica, but now it looks like we’ll be staying on a little longer here.

Loon’s email did not specify what part of the island they were at. We guessed that they sailed to the lee side of the island despite the fact that there are several anchorages on the windward side as well. We headed 20 miles East then North to Grand Anse d’Arlet hoping that they would be heading South so we can rendezvous in the middle somewhere.

On the short sail to our new anchorage, a small tear developed in our headsail. We’ll either have to change the sail out to a smaller spare, or repair the one with the rip. That will all depend on the weather. If it’s raining out, it will have to be a replacement because it’s not possible to do the repair if the sail is wet. It’s 8:00am on Saturday and drizzling. Things don’t look promising for the repair.

Martinique - Captain's View

2008-11-20T16:16:00.003-05:00

......Phil taking advantage of calm conditions in the anchorage

On Monday November 10th, we departed the Grenadines heading for Dominica. I had received a call from the company I was going to interview with. They wanted me in Antigua on November 17. Our goal was to make it to Guadeloupe by the 16th and then take a ferry to Antigua from there.

With an 11 knot wind from the East, the day started out calm as we sailed North at 6mph. At that rate, it was going to take us 32 hours to get to our destination. As day turned into night, we had already passed St. Vincent and were closing in on St. Lucia. From afar, St. Lucia is a distinctive island with its two pointed mountains, the Pitons, at the Southern end. This is where parts of the movie Pirates of the Caribbean was filmed.

We continued on in the night. A full moon made the nighttime passage easier lighting up the sky so much that it appeared to be dawn all through the night. A squall was developing behind us and was catching up. The wind died and we dropped the sails and began motoring. We were able to outrun the squall, but the wind never really picked up again. I was optimistic and raised the main sail anyway. At 3:00am we were at the North end of St. Lucia and decided to tuck into Martinique because another squall was developing to the Northeast of us. This one we could not out run.

As it approached the moon was hanging low and bright to our West. The storm to the East was dumping rain and the moonlight was refracting off the rain. It was our first moonlight rainbow. It was beautiful but eerie. Muted red, yellow, blue and purple were set in front of a pitch black background as the storm clouds absorbed all of the light below. We were heading right into the darkness.

A sudden 10-degree drop in temperature forewarned us that the wind was about to begin. I dropped the sail while Sue took the helm and motored into the storm. The wind howled. The rain blue sideways, but the waves remained calm. Once we had passed through the front, the center of the storm was calm but rainy. By 7:00 am we were pulling into Martinique. We anchored up, fixed breakfast and hit the hay.

After our naps, we motored into Le Marin to clear customs. We were all surprised at the number of sailboats in the harbor. It rivaled Trinidad, but they were all in the water. We decided to stay in Le Marin until after my interviews. I didn't want to risk being forced to sail, even if the conditions were not conducive.

We have spent our time here exploring the area. Phil and I motored the dinghy into the small rivers in the mangroves. Sue was excited by the large discount grocery store right on the water. Susan and I both liked the wine prices: a good bottle of French red wine 2 Euros ($3 US)! We plan on loading up the bilges with French wine for the remainder of the trip. On second though, I don't think the boat is large enough for that.

As the week progressed, I started to get a strange stomachache. Saturday morning I woke up with a 103.2-degree fever. I was thinking appendicitis; all the pain was on the right side. In a French country, getting sick on a weekend is not a good idea. Everything is closed. Phones don't take coins. You have to have a prepaid phone card. You can't even call a taxi. We spoke with someone a customs. "You should go to Fort de France to the hospital." We asked if they could call a taxi. "Non". So we were back to walking around looking for a way to call a taxi. As we wandered around, we found a big blue sign with a capital "H" in the middle of it. Unbelievable! There was a hospital about 60 yards from the Marina. You would have thought the custom's person might have pointed that one out.

......The hospital is the big white building behind the boats
......The customs' office is the pink building on the water

We waited in the non-air-conditioned hospital for a doctor for about 2 hours. Everything was in French. My medical-French is not quite up to par, but somehow the doctors managed to understand so 30 minutes later I was admitted. The doctor agreed it could be appendicitis. After an ultrasound and blood tests it was determined that my appendix was fine. The doctor wanted to keep me there overnight. In the states, if you want to leave a hospital with out being property discharged, they keep you there by threatening not to file insurance for you. But here we were going to pay cash. I asked for the bill.

The staff looked at me like I was nuts. (Maybe I used the word that means "check", like after a good meal in a restaurant). In any case by 5:00pm no "check". Phil and I walked out of the hospital room, down the steps, and out the front door. The guy at the check in counter asked if we were leaving. I responded, "yes, we'll be back in the morning to pay and get the final results of the blood tests." Sue lingered behind. She did not want to be seen with me breaking out of the hospital. I had the same feeling as back in Trinidad during the fuel crisis. I refuse to be held against my will!

In the end, I got a prescription for antibiotics and pain pills. The hospital bill: 73 Euros ($97 US) including: doctor's time, extensive urine and blood tests, ultra sound, IV, pain medication, room, and lunch which, believe it or not, was not bad. Had I known it was going to be that cheap, I might have stayed for dinner as well.

For the next two days the fever was gone. But I was sweating buckets. Whatever I had was still hanging on. Monday I flew to Antigua and had a great night sleep in the hotel. By Tuesday, I felt like myself again. Just in time for seven interviews from 9:30am until 6:00pm. That evening, I started having pain in my back and arms. It felt like a knot in my back. Could be tension, so I went to bed. By midnight I was up and could no longer ignore the pain. I just wandered around in circles until the taxi came to pick me up at 4:00am for the airport. When I finally got back to the boat, Susan checked the internet for Dengue Fever, also known as "Breakbone Fever" due to the extreme joint and muscle pain. My symptoms matched the disease precisely, including the lull during the day I had my interviews. It's a mosquito born illness and is endemic throughout the Caribbean. At least we know what it is. You can get a test done after the fact to confirm that is what you had. That doesn't make a lot of sense to me, but by now I'm on the up tick and feeling much better.

So it's on to Dominica from here.

Tobago Cays and Union Island - Phil's View

2008-11-09T10:49:00.007-05:00

In the Tobago cays we swam in a turtle zone. Dad had told me that he almost rode a turtle when he was a kid. So I was determined that I was going to ride one today. I got in the water and saw a turtle. I swam over him and grabbed on to his back. I rode for at lest 50 yards. I was so excited I went to the beach to tell Dad all about it. We then went to see Dad try to ride a turtle. We found a huge turtle about 3 to 4 feet across, but the turtle was smart. He let Dad hold on to him rather than tow him around. So I dove down and pet him while Dad was holding him. Mom watched us as we did this, she was laughing so hard that water was leaking into her mask. By the time we left I had rode about 10 turtles.

Tobago Cays at Sunrise

Iguana crawling out as the sun comes up

The Captain searching for Iguanas

Happy Island Bar -Union Island

Union Island Market

Clifton Town Center

Disaster Averted

2008-11-09T10:35:00.004-05:00

It’s a five-minute motor from the idyllic Sandy Island to Carriacou’s main town of Hillsborough. The small settlement has an inordinately large about of neighborhood-style grocery stores reminiscent of the ones you see in the smaller islands in the Bahamas. They are stocked with a hodge-podge of items, many of which have collected quite a bit of dust and have astronomical prices (a roll of Bounty paper towel $13 EC, $5 US, ouch). The streets are lined with vendors in fruit stands trying to eke-out a living by selling fruits and veggies grown in their back yards. It’s a tough way to make money when your competition surrounds you on all sides and the Caribbean sun is mercilessly beating down on you all day long. Non-the-less, the welcoming and friendliness of the locals is ever-present here as it was throughout Grenada. After a small amount of provisioning we cleared out of the country and made our way to Union Island to clear into Saint Vincent.

For the past few days we have been island hopping among the Grenadines. The distance between islands is very close, so you can motor from one island to the next in a matter of minutes. We had just spent two days snorkeling and swimming at Mayreau Island. Phil, the lobster king, caught four of the delectable little creatures. Having cleared out the lobster, we decided to motor over to the Tobago Cays. There is a narrow passage between two reefs, which gives you a direct shot there. We fired up Bessie (our Perkins engine), raised anchor and motored towards the passage. Phil was our spotter and was positioned 15 feet up the mast on the ratlines. As we entered the opening in the reef the depth went down to 10 feet, then 9. The depth alarm was going off. Phil couldn’t tell where the channel was. Bessie was in neutral, but the momentum of the boat kept us moving forward. Phil was shouting “Port! No Starboard! No! I can’t tell the rocks are moving.” There were large stingrays that looked like rocks that began to move as the Adamo approached them. I didn’t like the situation and decided to abort. I shifted Bessie in reverse and . . . NOTHING. The engine was on but the prop didn’t turn. We had lost the transmission at possibly the worst time conceivable. The depth went to 8, then 7 while the incessant alarm kept blaring. Fortunately the wind was on the nose. As the Adamo slowed I turn to Starboard and the wind brought the bow around. We managed to turn on a dime. Sue said: “I think I’m going to puke” as she pulled out the headsail to give us power and steerageway.

We had one shot to anchor. Phil was on the bow ready to release the windlass and drop the anchor, Sue was manning the headsail, I was watching the depth and looking for a sandy spot with good holding. My brain was racing. What could be wrong with the transmission, or was it the prop, maybe a linking cable? There are no parts to be had here. I was sailing to Martinique in my mind wondering how will we be able to get into port without and engine. By the way, the propeller on the dinghy is spun, meaning we can’t use it to push us into port and no Mercury props to be found in these parts. (things always seam to happen in tandem).

We sailed over a sandy area, dropped anchor and dowsed the sail. I dove in to make sure the anchor was not going to drag and check the prop. Everything below the waterline checked out clear.

Off to the engine room. As I lifted the floorboard, the sun shined in and lit-up the bilge and the transmission. It took a split second to diagnose the problem. Lying in the bilge was the key that transfers the power from the transmission coupling to the prop shaft. Right next to it was the broken hose clamp that keeps it in place.

I lined up the shaft and the coupling, put the key back in and attached a new hose clamp. We were back in business. Tobago Cays here we come, however, this time we took the long way around the reef.

Talk about an emotional roller coaster ride. From everything is cool to oh-no, to oh-crap, to no-problem, to everything is cool in under 30 minutes.

Grenada is Great

2008-11-05T10:20:00.001-05:00

We love Grenada. It has the most wonderful friendly people and is an exceptionally beautiful island. Everywhere you go, people are welcoming and gracious, even the kids.

Susan and I were walking to the post office to mail in Phillip’s home school test to Calvert School, when the local high school let out. The streets were full of teenagers in school uniforms; skirts for the girls, and shirt and ties for the boys. I was flabbergasted at how well behaved the kids were as they walked home. There was no horseplay, no shouting, and no running. They were all perfect ladies and gentlemen. I turned to Sue and asked: “I wonder what they do with these kids to get them to act like that.” Last year in St. Thomas, we were in a taxi that actually hurried past the school to avoid the potential mayhem.

After about a week in Grenada, we continued North to Carriacou. Carriacou is part of Grenada, but is situated in the Grenadines. I’ll let the pictures below tell the story of what a day is like in Sandy Island. For a few days the Adamo was the only boat in the anchorage. (hit page refresh if 5 pictures of Sandy Island don't pop up on your screen. I think I've loaded to many photos)

Pelicans at dawn

Mid-morning rainbow

Mid-day and the sun is beating down on Caribbean-blue water.

In the afternoon, the Adamo is surrounded by schools of juvenile king mackerel. This picture was taken through the glass bottom in the aft part of the Adamo, the one that Phil uses to checkout the fishing conditions whenever we enter a new anchorage.

Tranquil evening sunset

We can’t go long without Phil providing dinner. On the journey from Grenada to Carriacou he caught a large yellow tail snapper at Diamond Rock, followed by a 10 lbs black fin tuna off the coast of Carriacou and fresh conch at Sandy Island. Throw in sweet-apples, oranges and limes he collected on our morning walks through the mountainous forests and he’s been quite the provider!

One of the great things about cruising is meeting other cruisers and hearing their stories. We met Dan and Sandra Mead on Mariposa who have just finished a 5-year circumnavigation. Their tales were mesmerizing. Phil’s ready to go around the world.

They partially funded their trip by carving calabash and selling them in St. Thomas. The funny thing is Phil found one floating in the water last year that ended up being one of their designs (small world). They think this will be their last year of calabashing it, so they asked me to photo document their work for the book they want to write.

Grenada

2008-10-29T07:46:00.000-04:00

On Saturday Oct 18th we sailed the Adamo to Grenada on an overnight sail. We sailed at night to diminish the chances of thunderstorms that build during the afternoon hours. The conditions at times were near perfect with a half moon out, 15 to 20 knots of following wind and calm seas. No autopilot though, so someone had to man the helm at all times. At around 2:00am a squall line that had been looming on the horizon behind us finally caught up with us. The clouds doused the moonlight; it was pitch black out. The wind on the leading edge of the squall kicked up to 30 to 40 knots from varying directions and rain was pouring on us like out of a bucket. We reefed the headsail. The main was already reefed in anticipation of hitting a storm. The boat wanted to turn upwind with the gusts. In the total darkness it is difficult to tell the boat is turning until the sails luff and flog violently in the wind. You're eyes are fixed on the compass for orientation, though with the wind direction changing as the squall passes over you it's not a perfect solution. Fortunately there was no lightning associated with this storm. As the squall passed us by, a dead calm came over the ocean. Just as quickly as the wind had kicked up, it died down to zero. Then slowly it began to build and 15 minutes later things were back to normal. Storms like that are not scary. We know what the Adamo can handle. But it does put you on a heightened sense of alertness and it's a lot of work.

We arrived in Grenada in the morning and fixed a hearty breakfast. Having cleared customs, we spent the next several days moving from bay to bay, taking in the natural beauty of the island. Sue's mom, in the meantime, had FedExed the autopilot and a care package to us. Thanks Mom! We brought the Adamo around to St. George's in the lagoon. On the shore you could see the FedEx office with it's own dinghy dock. What service.

Clearing customs for our items was fairly easy and two days later the autopilot was installed and working again. We finally have everything put back together after our lightning strike in Venezuela. (Knock on wood or "touch wood" for you Brits)

The Haircut

2008-10-27T06:54:00.000-04:00

Ok, so I have been flirting with a company about a Caribbean financial services job for six months. Now they want to fly me to Antigua for an interview with the future boss. A new haircut was in order. So the Adamo crew went in search of a barber or salon in St. Georges, Grenada. (more on the crossing from Tobago and other happenings in Grenada later. By the way, this could be our new favorite island. It’s starting to rival Anguilla. We love it here.)

We took the dinghy to the wharf on the Carenage to get to town from our lagoon anchorage. A local from shore started hollering at us that we would be better off tying up around the corner. When we pulled up to the sea wall, he introduced himself as “Herman, the man with the plan”. Seems like we picked up a guide for the afternoon.

We asked him about the haircut. He said he had the place to go. We followed him through main streets, then back alleys. We ended up in a barbershop that was brimming over with people. This was Friday evening and Saturday was a national holiday celebrating Independence Day. I guess everyone wanted to look good for their day off. Herman had no patience. He had us shuffling out of the packed shop before we could say “how long is the wait?” Through some more alleys, and we ended up in a second story barbershop also bustling-over with people, but the targeted stylist was free. So after a quick break we were up next.

Calvin introduced himself as I rotated to sit in the barber’s seat. I asked him if he knew how to cut straight hair. All of the other patrons were black. I don’t know much about cutting hair, but I do know that there is discernible difference between cutting tight curly hair verses flowing, straight blond hair. “Oh yes, that’s why Herman brought you here” he said.

With that, he inquired what kind of hairstyle I was looking for.
“#4 on the sides and longer on top.”

Calvin pulled out a #4 and attached it to his hair clippers. Then he started combing my hair with it from the top of my head to the ends. My hair was getting thinner but not any shorter. Sue and Phil where seated right next to me. As Kelvin turned the chair I could see their incredulous eyes looking in wonderment. I could read Sue’s thoughts: “you’re screwed.” Then she cracked a smile as she pulled out the camera to document the event. I had a few choice words running silently through my mind as well.

I turned to Calvin and asked: “are you planning to go against the grain soon?”

“Oh, yes.” He swiveled the clippers around and began shearing off the thinned straggles he had created on the sides of my head. “Well thank God” I thought, “a buzz is better than looking like I have 80 year-old thin, stringy hair” as I visualized the job offer vaporizing before my eyes.

When the sides where closely sheered, all that was left to do was to tame the mop on the top of my head. As Calvin fumbled with the five-inch long hair, I could see in the mirror he had no idea of what do to with that mane. He grasped a chunk from the middle and took the scissors to it and created a prefect reverse Mohawk. Sue’s eyes widened as I sank in the chair.

“I can still buzz the top,” the little voice in my head was saying. Then, miraculously, Calvin awkwardly bunched up the sides and made it match up with the top and the sides. I could sense his relief as he said: “how’s that?”

“Good” I said.

Then he came around with the clippers to clean up the edges. I should have jumped out of the chair, but social convention kept me seated. He trimmed the back of my neck, then brought the sadistic instrument around to the front and started to trim the front side of my sideburns . . . starting at my temple! He shaved my hairline back so that the end result was a thin sideburn leading down to my beard. Definitely an island-do.

Then he realized: what should we do with the beard? “Should I trim the beard as well.”

“Oh no, I can take care of that.” I countered quickly.

As I looked into the mirror, I wondered what will it look like, when the front side of my stubbly sideburns grow back in. Will my potential future boss stare at them wondering is that usually what his hair usually looks like, or will he understand: “Ah, he got the island do. Poor boy.”

Meanwhile, Phil was not dissuaded. “I’m next. I want the same style as my dad: short on the side and long on top” he said as he hopped in the chair.

Calvin picked up his shears and got to work. Apparently he was tired of dealing with long straight hair. So he started with the #4 right in the middle of Phil’s forehead and pushed the clippers to the top if his head. I guess that is what I get for teaching him how to go against the grain. He looked up and said: “Did you say long on top?”

Phil looked like a marine recruit ready for boot camp. Calvin then took a razorblade and trimmed his hairline to remove his widow’s peak and match his sideburns to mine. Yep, we are styling . . . Grenada style.

Post Script: Sue opted against having her hair done.

Wahoo Fishing Tobago-style

2008-10-18T12:31:00.000-04:00

When we first arrived in Tobago, a local fisherman named Dave showed up wanting to sell some fish. He had caught a 4 pound black fin tuna and wanted to sell it for $48 TT ($8 US). It sounded like a good deal to us for sushi tuna, so we did the deal and feasted on sushi and sashimi for dinner that evening.

Dave also invited us to go on a fishing trip with him for King Fish, the local name for Wahoo. Phil and I accepted. In the morning, the weather was sunny and clear, a perfect day to catch the big one.

Fishing traditional Tobago-style is a unique proposition. Locals use 20-foot long fiberglass pirogues, with bamboo outriggers and 300 lbs test hand-lines. When a big one hits, the gloves go on and the fish is horsed into the boat by hand. Wads of fishing line lay in separate bilge compartments for each line. Dave fishes with four lines at a time. No rod and reels for these guys, no gaffs either.

Dave’s boat is meticulously maintained. Well painted, squeaky clean with a 40hp tiller Yamaha outboard that he polishes with baby oil to keep it shiny. When he catches a fish, bloodstains get washed down and wiped up immediately. I complemented him on his boat and it’s pristine condition. “It’s my livelihood” was his response. Our captain did not have a diplomatic bone in his body. Things came out gruff and direct. I guess 20 years of being out a sea alone takes its toll on your social skills.

Motoring through the bay, we dropped the lines in one at a time until our spread was laid out, three brightly colored squid lures on the surface and one down deep. As soon as we exited the sheltered waters of the bay, the sea floor dropped to 150 to 200 feet with a strong current cutting through the channel. The calm waters of our protected anchorage began to boil with large sea swells capped by current and wind-driven waves as our small pirogue rounded the point. We trolled on a plane at 10 to 12 knots. Heading into the waves was punishing and wet. Three miles later, we u-turned and headed back. Running with the wind and waves seamed almost serine after our upwind pounding. Three miles later and the loop started all over again. After four or five circuits, it became clear to me that this is hard work and shed light on Dave’s and the other fisherman’s tough demeanor.

A large silver streak cutting diagonal through the water behind us pulled me back into the here and now from my introspection. “King Fish” shouted Dave and the battle began. I took the tiller, Phil moved to the front of the boat. “Not so far” barked our captain. “He’ll lose control of the boat. Move back”. Phil moved half way back. “OK” commanded the captain. Then his attention turned to me. “Keep the boat going straight and speed up”. “Ok” I said. “Hand me that glove.” “Ok” I said.

Then it happened. The fishing line was running over my shoulder as Dave was wildly pulling in the monster fish. I decided to move on the other side of the tiller to give him more room. “What are you doing? Move back.” “Ok” I said again. The King Fish was just behind the boat. As I shifted my position back, the throttle slowed. Dave yanked the fish to the stern gunwale. “Speed up! That fish is going to hurt me if you don’t” he yelled.

As I throttled up, he horsed the crazed aqua-blue stripped monster into the bilge. “Aaarrgg” he hollered, as the battle was brought into the boat. The snapping fish had plenty of fight left in him. He was biting and thrashing violently. I glanced up at Phil to get a mental snap shot if his expression. It was excitement, joy and terror all in one.

Dave tackled the unruly snapping king fish with it’s head and razor sharp teeth inches away from his own jugular. Reaching down in the bilge, a thick burled stick emerged in Dave’s hand and began beating the fish in the top of the head. Two blows and the seaming uncontrollable flailing changed to tight seizure-like tremors.

Having subdued the fish, Dave turned to me and let me have it. “That fish could have hurt me. You have to keep the speed the same.” In my mind I knew that if the speed had remained constant, the bilge battle we had just witnessed would have remained the same. But why argue. Two minutes later, it was as if nothing had happened.

We continued our laps, up wind and waves, then back down. Over the course of the day, we landed two King Fish, four Black-fin Tuna and a Barracuda, a very good fishing day. As we entered back into our anchorage, the waters calmed and so did Dave’s excitable mood. He even cracked a smile as he leaned back on his tiller reflecting on the catch of the day.

Rain Forest of Man-of-war Bay - Tobago

2008-10-17T16:56:00.000-04:00

Our exploration of Man-of-war Bay and the surrounding rainforest have continued.

Phil and I went on a five-hour hike up the mountain. We started out following the very steep curvy and surprisingly newly paved road to Scarborough. The humidity was at 100% as we walked into clouds of mist on our way up hill. At the crest of the mountain ridge the road forked. A breeze from the east blew over the crest and we could see the distant beaches on the lee side of the island through the mist. By now we were drenched in sweat and getting thirsty. We had not planned to be out so long.

Phil found a coconut and husked it with his pocketknife. A couple of minutes later we were drinking its water. Coconuts are nature’s canteens. I am always surprised at how much water you can actually get from them; about six to eight ounces per nut. It tastes like unsweetened, tangy water with only the aroma of coconut. It’s no pina-colada and it is certainly an acquired taste; but when you are really thirsty, it hits the spot.

We took the fork in the road that lead further up hill and hiked on. As we continued up the lush mountain we discovered an abandoned house with a very steep and muddy trail leading down through a forest of birds-of-paradise plants. The trail lead to an abandoned farm and a beautiful rocky creek. Phil caught a land crab, which we later cooked up in a crab and crawfish sherry soup.

Parrots squawked and humming birds buzzed around us as we explored and admired the rainforest flowers.

Phillip caught these parrots on camera, one of which is putting on the airbrakes when coming in for a landing on a branch.

Fruit trees were sprinkled throughout the forest. We collected avocados, limes, sour oranges, guava and coconuts. We also came across a few cows who had left landmines all over the road. “What ever you do, don’t step back” I told Phil for this shot.

We started to make our way back down the mountain to Charlottesville. In the bay we saw a new boat had arrived. It was our friends on Kejia II. By the time we reached the beach they had pulled anchor and were putting up their sails. Phil and I ran to the dinghy dock to try to catch them before they left.

As we hurried down the dock a sudden realization came over us. Our dinghy was gone. “Dam it”. We had even locked it up. The shock slowed us to a drugging walk. Our legs tired from the hike now seamed even heavier than before. As we approached the spot where we had cleated up Rubberducky, the locked cable was still attached to the piling. My eyes followed the cable looking for the frayed end where it had been hack sawed it two. It lead under the peer. We looked through the cracks between the well-worn planks and there she was, our dinghy squashed between the rising tide and the unforgiving dock. Memories of Samana and our British friends on Loon came to mind.

Fortunately, the dinghy engine had escaped the dock’s grip. It had been pushed through to the other side, underneath the concrete government peer with more clearance. We managed to slide Rubberducky our from under the dock with no damage. The 50 gallons of sea water pushed her down as we stood on the pontoons and pulled her free.

By know Kejjia II was already on the horizon. We motored back to the Adamo with our fruit bounty as Sue was on the verge of getting worried about us. We asked about Kejjia II. They had only tucked into the bay to do a quick repair to their davits. They were on the move because a potential storm was heading our way. As it turns out it never made it here though the tropical weather is very apparent: squally, hot and humid. The low last night was 85 degrees.

For relief, a routine has developed where the Adamo crew dinghies to our favorite waterfall every afternoon for cool showers in the rainforest. Even Sue has gotten into skinny-dipping in the falls. At her insistence though, the camera is always well stowed for that.

Departing Trinidad

2008-10-14T15:50:00.000-04:00

It was a long hot summer in Chaguaramas Bay in Trinidad and we were glad to head out to continue our adventure. Chaguaramas is one of those places you go to in order to haul your boat and head home for hurricane season or hang around and get work and repairs done to the boat while you wait for the end of the storms. We did the latter and were glad to finally be moving on. I will admit that if we ever need to spend hurricane season outside of the “hurricane box”, we will be doing it elsewhere. The attitude of the locals, the flotillas of trash in the water, the air pollution and the cattiness of the “clicks” of boaters really makes it a undesirable place to spend three months waiting it out.

With all but the autopilot repaired from the lightning strike, we headed to Scotland Bay to stage for our overnight motor-sail to Tobago. This was to be our last trek heading east. It will be down hill from there back to the States. As we rounded the corner to the “boca”, the local term for inlet, a large pod of bottlenose dolphin approached the Adamo and began frolicking in the water and performing aerial acrobatic tricks the likes of which we’ve never seen before.

It was good to be sailing again, good to be heading to new islands.

We entered Scotland Bay, dropped anchor and Sue fixed an amazing pork tenderloin dinner. Our friends on L’Aventura planned to sail with us to Tobago. They had been stuck in Trinidad for three months and had missed the Orinoco river trip because they just could not get work completed. They got jerked around by a refrigerator guy for well over a month. They also had an engine rebuild. When you go cruising you often hear: “you’re living the dream”. Yep, but sometimes the dream is a nightmare. L’Aventura has had its share of those. They entered Scotland Bay and we waited for nightfall. I had purchased two Cuban cigars, one for the Adamo crew and one for the L’Aventura crew. As we sailed through the “boca” into the Caribbean Sea, we lit our stogies to celebrate our long awaited departure.

With a half moon out, light winds and a very calm sea it was looking like an easy passage. Then came the radio call an hour and a half into the trip. L’Aventura was loosing oil at an alarming rate out of the rebuilt engine. They were turning around to get it looked at by the people who did the rebuild. Yep, “living the dream!”

Our crossing was uneventful except for when Sue was at the helm and out of nowhere there was a spotlight dead ahead. The local fishermen sit in the dark out there and flash a light at you if you come close. She veered off about 100 feet away from it. It scared her to death. Fortunately, we had heard of this happening to others so we didn’t think it was pirates.

We were greeted in Tobago by a stunning sunrise and a beautiful un-crowded bay in Charlottesville. Phillip was ready to go “diving, diving, diving!” So after clearing in at immigration and customs, we hit the water. No luck spear fishing though. While we explored the bay we found fresh water rivers with waterfalls, great for showering and, Phillip being Phillip, also great for hunting.

He actually found giant crawfish and caught them using my shirt. An hour later we were eating sautéed crawdads as well as black fin tuna sushi we had purchased from a local fisherman. We were back in the saddle.

Repairing the Adamo

2008-09-29T07:45:00.000-04:00

As many of you know, we were hit by lightning in Venezuela. The damage was mainly to the electronics: Autopilot, depth sounder, VHF radio, Stereo, alternator, automatic battery selector and various light bulbs on the mast. We also had five small holes blown into the hull where the lightning escaped from the stays. These were all above the water line, so no threat to the boat.

Despite the strike, we stayed on the river. I guess we wanted to enjoy what we came to see and were subconsciously procrastinating on the upcoming unpleasantness (dealing with insurance and repairing the boat back in Trinidad!)

We were mentally prepared for much more damage. We contacted our insurance company and they e-mailed over the process for filing a claim: two estimates for each item, followed by endless forms and several weeks of delay in getting a response. Once the claim is approved, you can start on the repairs. When all is fixed, then they make you sign a release and two weeks later you have your money (minus the huge deductible). If you have been following the blog, you know how long it takes to get one estimate to get work done on you boat in Trinidad, much less two quotes for each repair job. That could take over a month! Then you have to actually get the people to show up and do the work.

After the shock, we said NO THANKS to that. Sue notified the insurance company we would not be submitting a claim and I went into the "Crazy German" mode to do the repairs myself. 11 days later, everything but the autopilot was fixed. We shipped that back to Raymarine in the US for repairs via Fed Ex. Getting the package picked up by Fed Ex took seven days. The Fed Ex guy kept finding something wrong with the paperwork (lots of customs forms for exporting to the US). Every time I called the company I got a different story and also a different price. The price issue is important because you have to leave cash for the pickup and it has to be correct change. It actually became kind of humorous. The marina office would call to give us our daily notification that the package was still there. Could we come down and make the necessary corrections?

Our buddies on L'Aventura were dealing with their own problems with customs, trying to get a freezer part into the country. I figured if I showed up looking like this at customs maybe something might get done.

But they require "proper attire". Sense of humor still intact after the lighting strike. All is good and we are looking for our next adventure.

More Cool Pics from Venezuela

2008-09-20T15:09:00.000-04:00

Rain on the Orninoco

Warrau baby

Land crab, bound-up so it will not bite or run away.
Two of these make a great he-crab soup!

Early Morning Canoe Trip

Warrau Pet

The Adamo at anchor, Hyacinth floating by

High and Dry storage

Check out this Smile

Natural gas rig flames at night

The big red boat

This flower is wrapped in a husk that looks like a string bean. If you tap it, it opens up like a magician's trick.

Do we look like cruisers yet?

River Dolphin (Boto) at play next to the Adamo

This is not my picture, but this is what they
look like underwater

Lightning Strikes Twice: Sue's View

2008-09-19T12:35:00.000-04:00

When people say lightning doesn't strike the same place twice, they are wrong! We were hit again in the Manamo River. For all of you who have followed us from the beginning you know we were hit just before we set out from Daytona. So once again the autopilot is fried along with the alternator, VHF, spreader lights both fore and aft, stereo, etc. It also shot down the stays and blew several small holes in the hull. So we have been busy getting repairs done and will send the autopilot back to the US for repairs or replacement. Insurance won't do it this time as we have a high deductible and the process of two estimates, blah blah blah...was too painful. Sometimes I wonder why we even have insurance. We will haul out on Tuesday afternoon and will remain in the sling for a couple of hours so we can repair the holes just above the waterline. Fortunately most of the repairs are completed or nearly completed. The hull of our boat looks rough though. It is stained with the brown mud of the river; the paint is deteriorating, and now we have a few small holes in it. The oily water here leaves the waterline black as well. We are waiting until we get back to the USA to do a new paint job. It is just too hot here to undertake that task at this point.

Having to go through the process of repairing things again is almost unbearable. We had just finished getting Adamo into shipshape after two months of work. But, a look on the bright side, we can still keep moving while the autopilot is being repaired. It just means someone has to be sitting at the helm at all times which is tiring. Oh well, it is sailing after all.

In the meantime, Phillip is a happy camper since we have met back up with our friends on L'Aventura. They, too, have been doing a lot of work on their catamaran. Misery loves company! At least we can have fun in the interim. Cocktail hour is thriving in Trinidad.

We are contemplating our next move so stay tuned.

Trading for the Dugout Canoe: by Phil

2008-09-18T11:04:00.000-04:00

At the start of the river trip I was hell bent on getting a dugout canoe. As we got further up the river I wanted one even more. When we anchored up for a couple days, I planned on getting one at this village. We offered a kayak for a dugout canoe earlier in the trip and they just laughed at us. We asked Danni, our guide, how long it takes to make a canoe. He said, “one month.” That explains why everyone had laughed at us. Then later we asked Danni if he would trade a canoe for a 3.3 hp mercury outboard motor and that made everyone scramble to find one. Then Danni said, “I will bring a canoe tomorrow.” So we agreed and the next day he brought us one, and we traded the 3.3 motor for a 16 foot canoe.

At this point the trip was a success to me! But there is more. The chief came by the boat after seeing Danni's new motor. He wanted to trade a large pirogue for a 15 hp motor. I don't think he understood that we live on our boat and could never use a huge boat like that. We traded some ropes for his paddle instead. It is a great paddle, well broken in and large! So now I need to practice using the paddle in the canoe so I can get around as well as the Indians. On the way out of the river the people who said no to trading a canoe saw we had one and also saw the kayak. They most have been thinking what did they trade for it. Now I am sealing some small cracks that are customary in these canoes, these cracks are filled with tar. I will pick out the tar and fill it with wood filler. I look forward to bringing it back to the States to go kayaking with Doug and Gram.

Invitation to Dinner - Warrau Style

2008-09-18T07:49:00.000-04:00

One afternoon Danni was aboard the Adamo after trading Phil for a dugout canoe (But that is an entirely different story to be told later). A small fishing boat pulled up on our port side and wanted to trade fresh fish that were still flopping around in the bilge. We traded a box of shelf milk for two large cat fish. Danni then offered to cook the fish and invited us over for dinner at his "casa".

We all knew that this would be an unforgettable experience and gladly accepted the invitation. In the late afternoon, we dinghied to the village and docked up at his house.

Danni and his wife were busy cooking on their wood burning stove. The stove consisted of a wooden base on pylons that was detached from the house itself. Yet it was close enough to still be under the extension of the roof. On top of the log base was a dried, six inch high clay cooking surface, three by four feet in area. Split firewood was arranged in a star pattern on top of this surface, with the center lit. The cook can then adjust the cooking temperature by pushing the split logs closer or further apart. The clay retains heat as well, so the entire contraption is quite functional and can get very hot if needed. I thought it was an ingenious solution for houses which are built on stilts over the water and are only made of wood and palm fronds.

Word had gotten out in the village that we had printed photos of Danni's children for him. While our hosts were preparing dinner, a procession of children entered his hut, dressed in there finest clothes to have their picture taken. Over the course of our five day stay at the village, we printed over 75 pictures of children and families. It was a huge hit with the Indians and was a fantastic ice breaker for these quiet and reserved people. Kids and adults crowed around during picture time and then again the next day when we distributed them out. They analysed and discussed every photo with each other. Then as quickly as the crowd had gathered, it would disperse until the next photo op or picture delivery.

When dinner was ready, Danni offered us each a bowl filled with stewed cat fish, plantains and onions in a most tasty sauce, with a side of fresh flat bread that had just been prepared on his clay stove. We liked the bread so much that Susan got the recipe so that it can become part of our cooking repertoire.

Dinner was eaten sitting on the floor. The men and guests eat first. The guests each received their own bowl while Danni and his sons preferred to share out of a community bowl. Susan was the only one who got a spoon. Everyone else ate with their hands.

We communicated in our Tarzan Spanish using our dictionary and sign language. Despite the language barrier, we were able to converse about family, travels, culture etc... At night, power is provided by a generator (courtesy of Chavez). When the power can on, someone showed up with an electric keyboard and asked us to play. Sue and I played Heart and Soul as a duet. Then I played the little bit I could remember without having practiced in over a year. I don't think Mozart was too well received. Boogy woogy jazz seem to go over better.

The next evening, we cooked pancakes for the village on Danni's stove. I'm not to sure how well they were liked. But I did point out to Susan, that they ate them all and that the maple syrup was all gone. It must have been OK. We then brought the TV and DVD player from the boat and played a movie for them (Too Fast, Too Furious) The younger guys really liked that one. Sue sat with a group of kids and taught them some English. It was a wonderful time.

Here are some more photos we took and printed for them.

Check this guy out. His 40 hp is pushing him along while he is bailing the boat with a scooper!

"Crocodilio" Hunting

2008-09-16T06:06:00.000-04:00

The following morning, Danni was back at the boat, inquiring whether we wanted to go to the jungle that afternoon. We were still pretty wiped out from all the activity and continuous trading from the day before, so we declined that idea. Then he suggested "crocodilio" hunting that night. Before I could respond, Phillip was saying "yes, yes, yes". At seven that evening we boarded Danni's dug-out pirogue again and set off on a nighttime hunting expedition. We motored on a plane over the mirror like water in the darkness. The sound of Danni's 40 horse engine and the wind rushing past our ears, drowned out the evening's jungle noises. With a habitual, perhaps even instinctive pull on the engines tiller, the pirogue turned towards the shore piercing through the jungle trees masking the rivers banks into a small cano. Once inside, Danni cut the engine and began to paddle gently, quietly up the narrow jungle stream.

A flashlight in hand, our guide searched the mangrove like roots for the shy caimon. Twenty minutes later he spotted on whispering: "crocodilio". He maneuvered the boat closer, without ever lifting the paddle out of the water. We could see the caimon's glowing eyes reflecting in the flashlight's beam. Just as quietly as we had drifted up to the caimon, it retreated in a backwards motion, sinking its protruding snout and eyes below the water's surface. Danni ran to the front of the boat in pursuit with his flashlight beam, but he was gone.

Shortly there after, we came upon a 6 footer. Danni shown the light while I took aim. I took the shot and hit the caimon. Danni rapidly paddled for the spot where it went down. Shining the flashlight into the muddy water. It looked as though he was going to jump in after him. Dani holding the paddle had his arm up to his shoulder in the water and his nose two inches above the water's surface, poking around trying to find the caimon. After a five minute search, he gave up with great disappointment. That "crocodilio" would have fed half of the village.

We returned to the Adamo empty handed at midnight. The next night, Danni invited us to go again. I asked what time he would pick us up. "8:00pm" "Okay" I said, "What time is it now?" Danni walked out of his hut, looked at the sun and said "5:00pm". He was the Warrau version of Crocodile Dundee.

That night Danni caught one baby caimon by hand. He kept it for a photo op. "Too small to eat" he lamented.

Piranha Fishing

2008-09-15T20:36:00.001-04:00

As we had arranged the day before, Danni showed up at the Adamo at 6:30am. Phil and I had packed light for our trip: a water proof bag containing two diet cokes, one tomato, a bag of goldfish snacks, a camera and the hand held VHF. Danni had also packed lightly. He had a few shrimp swimming around his leaky boat, a spool of fishing string and one hook. He asked us if we had any rods, then told us to get them and a knife as well.

We kissed Sue goodbye and with great anticipation boarded Danni’s 25 foot long, 3 foot wide pirogue.

Danni’s was a home built boat, as most of them here are; a dugout canoe with a crude frame and wood planks installed to raise the gunwales. Fabric from old jeans and tar was used as a filler between the planks of wood to keep the water at bay. The boat leaked incessantly, and the faster the boat went, the more water got pushed between the cracks. One spot spewed like a little geyser shooting a stream of water 6 inches into the air and then into the bilge of the boat.

The first thing you notice when you step on board a pirogue is how tippy the boat is. You just don’t hop on. You gently board, balancing yourself while others aboard counter balance your weight to keep it upright. Once seated, you don’t move around much, particularly underway.

Phil was seated on the bow facing aft. I was sitting on a wood plank facing forward. Danni put the engine in gear and we began puling away from the Adamo. We started slowly, then a little faster, then a little more and finally our guide opened her up all the way. We were zipping along at over 40 mph with an inch of gunwale between us and the river's surface. Phil was grinning ear to ear. This was definitely very, very cool.

After skimming along the water for 5 minutes we turned off of the main river into a side cano (a small creek leading into the jungle). Our first task of the day was to find monkeys. Having shut down the engine, Danni paddled quietly, deeper into the jungle.

We could hear monkeys chattering and cracking branches as they swung from tree to tree; but we did not get to see any that morning.

Next we were off to go piranha fishing. By now the sun was beating down again. When you are so close to the equator, you can feel the sun searing your skin. Two weeks ago, in Trinidad, we were as close as you can get to the sun. It was directly over head and it was HOT. Danni brought us to a shady spot along the edge of the river. A cool breeze kept us comfortable as we watched him catch one of the shrimp swimming in his bilge, hook it and toss his hand line in the murky water.

Within a minute, he pulled in a small catfish. He asked for our knife and filleted the finger sized fish into strips of bait. He handed us each a strip and began baiting his own hook. Phil and I followed his lead. We dropped our lines in, and before long we were pulling in red bellied and black bellied piranhas.

Here's the crazy part. You unhook them and drop them in the bilge to swim around your feet! Fresh water is always coming in the boat, so you are really sitting in a big, huge live well. Surprisingly, the fish were not as aggressive as you might imagine. They lay in the bilge without moving around too much.

Back at the Adamo, we cleaned the fish and pan fried them. The verdict? Piranhas are a tasty, mild fish, but quite bony. I think the Adamo crew will stick to larger, not so bony fish.

In the evening, Danni showed up again to go find some monkeys. I guess he won't quit until you get what you paid for. Sue joined us on this trip. It was fun to watch her as we took off in Danni's low-slung, go-fast boat. She looked like she was having a great time, but also had a look of disbelief that people zip around in these boats everywhere.

Our guide brought us into a different cano this time. As we penetrated deeper and deeper into the jungle, the now familiar sounds of monkeys in the distance, came upon us. This time however, an entire troop of capuchin monkeys, heading to their night-time resting spot, used the branches overhead as a bridge to cross the cano. Danni's persistence had paid off, as I am sure it had many times in the past.

Heading up River

2008-09-15T18:29:00.001-04:00

After our time in Pendernales, we headed up river early in the morning. The Manamo was wide and surprisingly deep, ranging from 20 to 50 feet. For miles all you could see was the jungle encroaching on the calm flowing mocha colored water. We welcomed the isolation after our time in Chagaramas, the busy port back in Trinidad. As we motored along, we were oblivious to the political turmoil in Venezuela. President Hugo Charvez had kicked out the US ambassador and his entourage; and travel warnings were posted for Americans heading there. Fortunately, the natives were also completely clueless about the international goings on.

As we approached the first Warrau village, we could see them running down their board walks to the canoes. By the time the Adamo was 200 yards from the village they were on there way to intercept us. We had been warned that the first few enclaves were not really interested in trading, rather they were looking for handouts from sailing vessels heading up river. It is tough to resist the cute little faces of small children hoping for some candy or treats. Before we knew it, we had handed out nearly half of our push-pop supply.

Trading or "cambio" is a major activity for Warrau Indians. They trade hand woven baskets and purses, beaded necklaces and bracelets, fresh fish, as well as cheaply carved balsa wood toy boats. In exchange, they receive food (milk, flower, rice, eggs), clothing, fabric, needles, thread, and medicine among other items.

We proceed on until we reached a split in the river. Along the left branch was a larger Indian village. The right branch was broad and split off into other tributaries. The depth in the split decreased to 15 feet. Perfect for anchoring.

It wasn't long before boats from the village began showing up to trade. The second boat to arrive had a friendly Indian, who spoke Spanish (most of the Indians only speak Warrau). Once he realised we were Americans, he handed us a piece of paper that had a hand written recommendation in English from a previous cruiser. The paper explained his name was Danni and he was the local guide. He could show us monkeys and caimons or take us piranha fishing. We used an English-Spanish dictionary to boost our virtually nonexistent Spanish language skills to communicate. In the end of the conversation we had agreed to go see monkeys and fish for piranhas in the morning, as well as recopy his recommendation on new paper, since his was falling apart.

The latter ultimately gave us an opportunity to really get to know the village. We didn't just recopy the text, rather we typed it up and included a photo of Danni at the top of the page. When he saw that he asked whether we could take pictures of his kids and print them. This lead to pictures of other kids etc... but more on that later.

Pedernales, Venezuela: Sue's View

2008-09-15T16:45:00.000-04:00

Hearing LOUD music and fireworks, somewhat appropriate after successfully repairing the engine, Mike and I ventured into the town of Pedernales. There is no “public dock” so we asked in our Tarzan Espanol along with various hand motions if we could leave our dinghy on a dilapidated metal dock that was perhaps used for small shipments at some point. “Si, si,” was the response. There were a few fishing pirogues haphazardly tied off to it. We were amazed that almost every pirogue or dugout canoe has a new engine. Chavez has been passing out Yamaha 40 hp Enduro engines to each family. We managed to tie Rubber Ducky out of the way and carefully walked the slippery gangplank to shore. It had been raining so it was very muddy, explaining the color of the river. In town the first building we passed was the police station which was plastered with a huge poster of Chavez. This theme is repeated throughout the village. It was evident who the leader is here and that the people like him. It was evening time and most people were out wandering around the streets. The small cantinas were open. It resembled the Dominican Republic in many ways. There was green fluid running down the gutters and all the doors were open to the street. However, the streets here were all concrete and the sidewalks were elevated. The noticeable contrast is that the people here did not speak to you and most would not even look at you until you passed and then it was only a quick glance. It was an odd feeling.

To convey this scene is difficult. In the village there are no cars, but paved streets, sparsely furnished concrete homes and very few small stores resembling what we found in the Bahamas: a few shelves, a few items and degrading produce in crates or boxes on the floor. At the end of the street there was an enormous platform with very large, tall speakers resembling what you would see at a rock concert. We wandered toward the booming music to find a small crowd gathered around a woman with a microphone. She spoke for a moment and then led them in what appeared to be aerobic exercises, but as they continued mimicking her, we figured out that it was their equivalent of line dancing. Mike’s comment was “cheesy.” We continued down a side street where the homes were varying in that some were nicely painted while others were simply concrete gray. Some had tiled floors, but most were just concrete. The people living nearer the center of town were better off than those living closest to the river where they live on stilted log structures having one or two sides and a roof of sheet metal or palm fronds. A couple of hammocks were the only "furniture." The numbers of children in them were too many to count. Oddly some huts had TV's. This, too, was courtesy of Chavez. You could hear his propoganda broadcast in the streets. He is really rallying support from the people.

In the center of town was a Catholic Church. It was open and people were inside. The altar was full of fake flower arrangements. The celebration going on in town was explained by the poster on the church door. It was the Procession of the Virgin, a religious holiday. An older man seeing our interest tried to explain what was going on in rapid Spanish. We smiled and nodded and went on our way. It was getting dark and Phil was on the boat alone.

Murphy has moved to Venezuela

2008-09-11T01:59:00.000-04:00

After two months in Trinidad we finally left the dock to sail the Manamo River in Venezuela. It is in the Orinoco Delta where the Warrau or Wareo Indians reside. It is incredible how it is possible to almost grow roots when you have dockage, power and water for $12 US per day, even when you really don't like it there. The convenience of having resources for boat work within a short dinghy ride or walk is just more fertilizer for your roots. Then you meet a really nice family and the roots really dig in.

After uprooting ourselves we sailed to the southwest side of Trinidad. There was a beautiful deserted beach leading to a seemingly endless forest of tall native coconut palm trees. It was pristine, no trash, no people, no boat traffic. It was the perfect start for our latest adventure.

Phil found a sandpiper on deck and picked it up. It just sat there for awhile, then flew away back to the beach.

Then Murphy began to show his ugly face. Phil took the dinghy out and ran over a cat fish whose spiky spines pierced the dink underneath on the seam of the port side. At the time Phil had no idea that it had happened. However, it became clear first thing in the morning when we awoke to a partially deflated dink. At first we just pumped it up thinking that the cap was loose and motored to the beach. At the beach Phil heard a bubbling sound and saw something protruding from the bottom and pulled it out. Now it was hissing and deflating. I motored while Phil stomped on the foot pump as fast as he could to keep Rubber Ducky afloat. After patching the dingy, it takes 24 hours for the glue to fully cure . . . so the dink was out of commission for awhile.

As we departed the anchorage to cross over to Venezuela (only 25 miles), our faithful dinghy lie on the foredeck with its first real battle scar since leaving the US. We sailed carefully across the Bay of Paria avoiding the many oil rigs and platforms, as well as, the many fishing pirogues scattered throughout the southwestern portion of the bay.

When we arrived at the mouth of the Orinoco River we chose to enter the Rio Manamo. This river is less shallow at the mouth and easy to navigate in comparison to the Rio Macareo. It is also less traveled. As we approached the entrance, two large natural gas rigs flanked the flowing muddy brown river. The contrast between the vast mighty river with its wild, lush, forested banks and the huge man-made natural gas rigs each with a tall flaming stack that rose 20 feet into the air, brought a sense of realism to mind, a reality check. There are very few places on earth that have been untouched by man.

Red Ibises sit in flocks along the rivers edge.

Before heading up the Manamo we had to poke into the mouth of the Rio Pedernales to unofficially check in to Venezuela. The Guardia National is not a formal Customs and Immigration Office, however; they will stamp the forms we provide to prove that we were here to show the customs official when we head to our next destination. They also checked and noted our passports. That was the extent of it as they do not speak English. Welcome to Venezuela! (Why didn't I take Spanish?)

We checked in on a Saturday afternoon and planned to motor up the river early in the morning in anticipation of our first encounter trading with the Indians. Murphy had other plans for us. Saturday night the generator failed. Sunday morning I smelled diesel in the bilge. The fuel pump was leaking and one fourth of a tank of diesel had escaped into the deep depths of Adamo's hull. Trying to seal the leak didn't work. We keep a spare on board, but you never know if you will be able to remove the old pump easily or if time and salt water has seized it into place. To boot, the pump is located in the back of the engine underneath the exhaust, heat exchanger, and various hoses and pipes.

My concern was, how do we keep the batteries charged and the freezer frozen if both the generator and the engine are down? I tackled the generator first. When it was working again we all breathed a sigh of relief. Then it was on to the engine. Thank God for Phil. He is small enough to fit around the side of the engine lying against the hull in the bilge. I could reach from the other side after removing the floors. After an hour of working to get the pump off we succeeded just in time for a major squall. Things are never so bad that they can't get worse. The torrential rains began and hatches had to be closed. Let me remind you again of the heat down in these parts! Then the anchor began to drag in the strong winds that sprang up.

The engine was out of commission. The dinghy was on deck and deflated and couldn't be used to move the Adamo out of harms way. All the floors were up so getting around the boat was very challenging. But we were one up on Murphy; after he appeared in St. John we replaced our chain with 200 feet of galvanized chain. Sue was quick to act. I was still running around in my underwear due to the unbearable heat from having the boat closed up. She dropped all 200 feet of chain hoping that it would stop us from drifting down river. Finally the chain sunk down into the muddy bottom and the anchor held. The pressure was on to get the engine up and running ASAP. One of the fittings just would not line up properly. In desperation, I bent the metal fuel line and it slid into place. Success! We bled the lines and checked the oil and crossed our fingers. She cranked up and we were back in business.

As I write this entry, Phil is hopping around the boat like a Jedi knight, chasing down the flies with an electronic zapper. Sue is enjoying a well deserved glass of wine. I'm happy we have everything running again. Maybe tomorrow we will get our first glimpse of the Wareo Indians.

Hurricane Gustav and the Trinidad Fuel Crisis

2008-08-31T08:19:00.000-04:00

On August 23 the beginnings of hurricane Gustav blew through Trinidad. Of course it was not anywhere near the size and strength it has grown to. The storm passed over us as a tropical wave with 35 knot winds and heavy rain. Fortunately we had left the dock to anchor out with our friends on L’Aventura. Our anchorage was fairly well protected and as the storm passed over us we were oblivious as to what was happening back in Chagaramas Bay at the docks.

When we returned after the weekend, we were told that large waves had built in the bay and that the only boat on our dock at the time was instructed to leave because it was getting too dangerous to be tided up along side of it. Unfortunately for them, it was 11:30 at night when all this happened. Bummer.

It can get rough even on a clear day.

We enjoyed our weekend away from the dock and spent it relaxing, hiking and watching the kids play.

When we returned back to the dock on Monday, it was back to finishing up the last few boat projects before we leave for Venezuela and our Orinoco river trip.

After the weekend, Phillip built a transom for his dinghy and took the maiden voyage.

All was going smoothly until the engine died. Looks like the Captain has a new item to add to the project list!

The projects were coming along just fine, when mid-week the fuel crisis began. The Trinidadians, in their infinite wisdom, have decided not to sell fuel to foreign flagged vessels, neither diesel nor gas. As you can imagine, people here are in a total uproar because they do not have fuel for there dinghies or for running there generators. The reason the Trinis quit selling fuel, is that it is subsidized by the government, hence the $1 per gallon fuel price. When foreign vessels fuel up, the Trini government is paying the cost.

There is a law in place that prevents the sale of subsidized fuel to foreigners, but it has been ignored for the past 17 years. But in the last couple of weeks, a few super yachts came in and purchased 40,000 gallons of fuel, then left the country. So now the Trinis are clamping down.
The problem is, no one has figured out a way to sell fuel to the yachties at non-subsidized prices. Everyone is fuming and wondering how the 3000 boats on the hard are going to get out of here.

Well, I’m not one to be held against my will, so we managed to purchase fuel using a rental car and jerry cans. We are topped off and ready to go. While we had the rental car we also topped off the freezer with meat from the weekly farmers market. The market opens early before it gets to hot out. Susan was a little perturbed that we had to leave the boat at 6:00am mumbling: “dammed farmers” as she swigged down a diet coke to get her motor running.

The market was quite large with hundreds of vendors selling meat, fish, live chickens and ducks, live land crabs, fruits, veggies, clothes, cd’s and spices.

There was a bustle in the air as people shuffled up and down the aisles picking and choosing from the huge selection.

What we really liked about the market was finding food we have never seen before, asking the vendors for cooking instructions and then trying it out back on the Adamo. We fixed a callaloo, a local specialty of spicy mixed vegetables, a leafy aquatic plant and salted pig tails.

Cruising Life - Sue's View

2008-08-16T08:17:00.000-04:00

Hi everyone! We are still here in Chaguaramas Bay, Trinidad. It is a commercial harbor and, therefore, also very filthy. It is amazing that the locals here litter the water as well as the land. They just throw their trash off the side of the boat or on the ground. Obviously, they are not educated about pollution. The water is full of oil, gas, and diesel that you can plainly see on top of the water. We will have to clean the hull when we leave for all of the grime on the sides of the boat. Trash, plastic bottles, bags etc flow in and out with the tides.

It is an environmental nightmare. You can understand why we are all getting antsy to leave and find another crystal clear cove to anchor out in and frolic in the water since it is hotter than the devil's den, but the water here is cloudy at best due to the runoff from the rivers in Venezuela. So, the next best place to be is the dock where we have power, unlimited water, and access to stores, bars and new friends which is precisely where we are.
We have met a fantastic English family on the boat L' Aventura with two playmates for Phillip, Keir 13, and Iona 14, and playmates for us parents, too, Andy and Sue. I have to say that the timing of the "new friends for Phil" couldn't have been more perfect with Doug and Andrew's departure. They seem to have hit it off and have been spending lots of time together. Tonight we are having a pizza party on the Adamo. L' Aventura is on the hard getting extensive work done. Everyone who has read the blog knows that being on the hard in this heat is brutal! It is hard to cook... well, it is hard to to anything. So we invited them over to enjoy some air conditioning, a meal that nobody has to cook, and drinks of course!
We have also been to several pot-luck gatherings and a book/ DVD swap and have met other cruisers. I find these events a little uncomfortable here because it is kind of like high school where there are definitely clicks. Weird! But you have to do it in order to met other people.
Phillip and I have started home school. It is painful to begin a new year of material! We are both suffering over it. Battling Phil to study for a couple of hours is not my idea of fun; but I know it is a matter of time before we get into a groove.
Mike is getting to the end of his list of maintenance items and he has offered to help our new friends with some of their stuff. We are waiting for them to get into the water so we and go down the river together in Venezuela. We still have to provision for that journey as well as pick up trading items for the Indians. More on that later.
Phil and Mike just returned with a couple of tuna and a jack. So it is sushi for breakfast! They also found a beach nearby that we will venture to today to have some fun in the sun.

Phil's New Pet

2008-08-07T09:07:00.000-04:00

Phil showed up with a new pet this morning, a rather large slow moving bug. We called it a leaf bug, but I'm sure Andrew can shed more light on the proper name when he reads this blog. Look for his comment to this entry.

Check out the way the wings look exactly like a leaf. It was pretty awesome. We also liked the yellow eyes.

I was just kidding about the "new pet". This would not pass the Mom-test. Phil released it in a bush and said it practically vanished due to it's ingenious camouflage.

Trinidad - Captian's View

2008-08-06T19:54:00.000-04:00

Andrew's first Cuban.

I have been derelict in my duties posting to the blog. Most of my time has been spent on repairs and maintenance items. The too do list seams to keep growing, despite my efforts to pear it down. Here is what I have been up to: hauled boat to address a significant leaking problem with the prop shaft. The boys and I dropped the rudder, broke down the Hundested variable pitch prop mechanism, pulled the prop shaft then put everything back together again. Finally we repacked the rudder and prop shaft packing. That took 3 days; work that was done largely in vain because the prop seal was still in working order. (though my peace of mind has been restored. There’s nothing quite as unsettling as having the boat take on water in the middle of the night when you are doing a crossing and you are in the middle of nowhere).

I had the foam in the cockpit cushions replaced. They had deteriorated to the point where they just stayed flat and where water logged. It would seam that this should to be a quick job, but not around here. Getting quotes takes for ever. With so many boats here for hurricane season, everyone has plenty of work to do. When I finally did get a quote, I had Andrew bring the cushions to the upholstery shop. When he got there they quoted him a significantly different figure than the original quote I had received. So now it’s another dinghy trip to the shop to get clarification. When I got there the right person to talk to was out for the day. “Come back tomorrow” they said. You can see how this thing just kept getting dragged on and on. In the end, I probably spent 6 hours just to get someone else to do a job that should only take a maximum of 30 minutes to complete. When we did get the cushions back the job was done right however, and the price was right. 266 TT Dollars which is $46 U.S. for two 6 x 3 foot cushions with new sliders installed on the zipper.

The crew sanded and varnished the toe rail, twice. It rained shortly after applying the vanish the first time. Ahhh, the rainy season, not just good for losing your tan, but also keeping you on your toes and busy as well.

Back to the maintenance list: changed all fuel filters and oil in the Perkins and the gen-set. Changed out alternator and fridge belts on Perkins. Re-aligned fridge compressor. Replaced raw water impeller on Perkins. All this took two full days between doing the work and sourcing the parts.

We bought a used stainless steal stove from another cruiser and fitted the range top to our stove since ours had rusted out. It was incredible that we found a stove top that would work (with some modifications). Several hours of cutting it to size with the grinder and building new fittings and the stove looks brand new. Sue is pleased as punch.

So, what’s left to do? Second coat of varnish on the toe rail. Replace the grill regulator. Have the canvas on the dodger replaced. Varnish the steering wheel. Pull two hatches and three portholes and re-seal them. Re-seal the mast. Repair several other leaks throughout the boat (all became evident during the rainy season). Pull the windlass and have the motor rebuilt. Remove the shower door and re-seal it. And finally, re-hang the wire in the cockpit locker that holds and organizes all the spare lines on board.

Sorry about the lengthy discussion on maintenance items, but that was all of those who have inquired if we ever get bored while cruising. It’s been almost a year since we moved on the Adamo, and I can confirm that boredom has played no part in this little adventure.

After the visit from my parents, we only had a few days left with the older boys. Friday August 1 was Emancipation Day here in Trinidad and all businesses were closed. We needed a rental car to get Andrew and Doug to the airport Saturday morning at 5:15am, so we rented the car on Thursday with the return scheduled for Monday (rental car agencies are closed on the weekend). Five days with a car, what a luxury.

We decided to make the most of having the car. We spent Thursday provisioning, Friday driving to the rain forest, Saturday to the airport, Sunday more provisioning, and on Monday a little more provisioning. Cars are $30 per day and gas is $1.20 per gallon. What a deal.

The only blog-worthy day with the car was Friday. We departed the marina at 9:00am and drove east to the coast, about 40 miles. The traffic in some spots was horrendous. Everyone was out on the streets due to the holiday.

When we reached the east coast we found a deserted beach. It was full of leather-back sea-turtle nests, one every 6 feet. Cracked hatching eggs littered the beach from the baby sea-turtles’ escape from there sandy nests to the open ocean.

The boys were happy to be off the boat for the day. Doug and Andrew spared on the beach.

I think the loser got the center seat on the flight home. Phil and Sue explored the woods.

After the beach excursion it was back into the car to continue into the rain forest. The roads were barely two lanes for the 30 miles of curvy roads following the north coast of the island. Every so often we crossed a single lane bridge made of wooden planks.
Just as we were all getting hungry, we stumbled upon a remote bungalow hotel. It is owned by a Swedish couple, with 5 bungalows and an open-air dining room.

After lunch, as we exited the compound we found a bread-fruit tree. Andrew and Phil hopped out and collected two large fruits the size of an over sized football. Bread-fruit is a starchy fruit which you cut up and boil, and eat just like a potato. When I cooked it, I sautéed the chunks I had previously boiled in olive oil with garlic, chopped tomato, onion, hot sauce, thyme, salt and pepper. Everyone loved it.

After collecting the bread-fruit we proceeded further into the forest. Much to our dismay, the road dead ended. There was no place to turn around so we had to back down the narrow road for a ¼ mile and then turn the car around and head back the way we came. The locals looked at us like we were from Mars. By the time we got back to the Adamo it was 8:00pm. That’s was a long day of driving in tough conditions, often through a deluge of rain in a small Nissan Sunny (just big enough to fit the boys in the back seat).

During the last hour of the trip Phillip was going bonkers. He had the middle seat and just could not sit still any longer. After that day, I think the older boys were looking forward to heading back to the States and leaving Phil behind!

During lunch, Susan remembered that we needed to go to immigration in Chaguaramas Bay to check Andrew and Doug out of the country. When we hit the dead-end it became very clear that we would not make it back in time. So we called the immigration office from the car to see what our options were. Well, the lady on the other end of the phone was quite indignant. Saying things like: “That’s a BIG problem. You have to come in by 5:00pm today.” I said: “I cannot make it there in time. We ran into a dead-end in the road and are in the rain forest and have hours of driving ahead of us.” “That’s a BIG problem. You chose not to come in today. Our law states the captain is accountable for his crew when the vessel leaves the country. If the crew is not aboard when you leave, you will have to prove that they have left the country by some other means.”

Nuts! I was so angry about the “you CHOSE not to come in” comment I wanted to go ballistic. (Ich habe vor wut fast ins Lenkrad gebissen!) Of course, raising your voice to immigration gets you absolutely nowhere. After dropping the boys off at the airport, I went to immigration to get my wrist slapped, or fined, or arrested or whatever they were going to do to me. Fortunately, it was Saturday and the indignant lady had the day off. The official that was there accepted a copy of the boys’ itinerary and the airport parking stub as proof that they had left. I paid the $14 departure fee and I was free to go.

Three days ago, Phil found an inflatable roll-up dinghy by the trash cans. He proceeded to bring it back on the dock and inflate it.

Turns out that the thing actually holds air. Well, you know Phil. His favorite four letter word is “FREE”. So he spent the next three days fixing it up and gluing all the loose rubber straps back in place. It actually looks pretty decent now. His plans are to manufacture a transom for it and use the spare 3hp outboard so he can go fishing in his own dinghy. The people who threw it out saw him working on it and were tickled pink that a “young chap” ended up with it. They were proud to inform him that that dinghy had been around the world.

In preparation for our trip up the Orinoco River in Venezuela, we got immunization shots today for yellow fever and tetanus. We took a taxi to the health clinic that gives out the shots. It was an experience. Picture a hospital from the movies in Africa; open windows, wooden benches, a rooster running through the yard past the entry door as we filled in pink government slips to serve as our record for re-admittance back into the country. Aside from the four nurses, dressed in brown dresses reminiscent of girls scout brownies uniforms, we were the only people there. Once the forms were completed we where ushered into a small examination room where the shots were administered. A cup full of individually packaged syringes was the only medical devices in view. A locking cabinet labeled “dangerous drugs” was partially hidden by the open door leading to the next examination room. I wondered to myself “what are dangerous drugs??” Our vaccines were retrieved from a Coleman cooler on the table next to the syringe stash. Rubber gloves were nowhere in site. Two shots, one in each arm and we were done.

A visit from Omi and Opa - First Mate's View

2008-07-29T23:13:00.000-04:00

We had a wonderful visit with Omi and Opa here in Chaguaramas Bay. The Crews Inn was the perfect hotel for them located just across the bay from our slip. They seemed to have brought the good weather with them, too. It was cooler, breezy, less humid, and it actually stopped raining for a whole day! The hotel has a large pool over looking the marina; and it is nicely landscaped. We spent one afternoon sitting by the pool while Phillip cut open coconuts to keep himself entertained.

In the mornings and evenings flocks of yellow napped amazon parrots fly over the marina squalking incessantly as they pass by.

We went to the local restaurants which was a big treat for us (thank you Omi and Opa!). The cuisine was remarkably good and quite varied as is the culture here in Trinidad. The country is a mix of Europeans, Blacks, Indians and Orientals. The cooking is a blend from each culture with a flare of tropical infusion. I have to say that we have discovered another favorite drink. The restaurant at Crews Inn makes unbelievable passion fruit martinis!

We spent time on the boat, too, motoring to a nearby cove for the day. Omi was a little apprehensive about going out on a sail boat. She was concerned that it would lean over too much for her. When we returned back to the dock at the end of the day, she said it was too bad the day was over, she was having a great time. Perhaps she's another sailor in the making.

We spent much of that day talking and cracking jokes.

Phillip took Opa fishing one morning and they were successful in bringing home fish for brunch.

One of the types of fish they caught was a hound fish. It's a long thin fish with a pointed toothy bill. They can grow up to four feet in length and are edible. When Mike cooked the hound fish we noticed that the bones were blue. We started to question whether we should eat them or not. Phil checked the saltwater fishing book again to make sure, then we took a bite. Turns out that it is a very mild tasting fish with a firm texture similar to sea bass. The "boys" were delighted with their catch!

Opa also volunteered to go fishing with him again, however, as soon as they left in the dingy the rain rolled in and soaked them to their underwear! It was a deluge! Of course we took pictures to document it all.

Yesterday, Mike went to see a Methanol production plant with his parents while the boys and I hung out at the boat catching up on some chores and watching a movie. It is so nice to be in port with air-conditioning and unlimited water! I can't seem to stress that enough, I know.

After Omi and Opa left this morning we sanded and varnished the toe rail. Yes, we are still messing with the blasted toe rail because the oil just wasn't working so well. We sail too much to keep the oil looking fresh that way. The continuous saltwater wash downs take the oil right off of the wood, so it is back to varnishing. Chores...they are never-ending!

We only have a few more days with the boys before they go back for school. I sure am going to miss them! It will be strange to only have Phillip around, but I am positive that we will not be bored!

On the Hard by the First Mate

2008-07-24T19:21:00.000-04:00

We hauled the boat out of the water on Monday because we had water coming into the boat via the prop shaft. So Mike ordered the seal from Denmark thinking that this was the problem. You can’t know until you pull the propeller and shaft to check it out which means an expensive haul out. Anyone who has experienced a haul out knows that it is not only expensive but also a very tense time; after all, you are taking your 60 thousand pound boat, or in our case our home, and suspending it in the air with two straps while being at the mercy of the lift operator with whom you must place all trust. This entails getting the straps into the correct position and placing 4x4 blocks under the rub rail to prevent them from breaking off and making sure that the straps are not over the small window under the boat as well as placing them so that the boat will be steady and not slide and crash to the ground.

Now, in the USA once the straps have been set, the crew must leave the vessel for obvious reasons. Here in Trinidad as well in Antigua the crew stays on the vessel and gets a topside view as the lift cruises through the yard. Once they find your spot they place struts to hold the boat upright. It always amazes me that eight stands can hold a boat upright. Finally they give you a 12 foot ladder so that you can get on and off the boat.

At this juncture everyone is a little testy. It is very hot here as I have stressed before. Being on the hard means that we have limited power (battery power which has to last throughout our stay) and we can’t open the fridge because it must stay cold for the duration of our stay without being able to re-cool it. Everyone is parched and anxious about the work ahead. Mike becomes a maniac mechanic so that we can get back in the water ASAP. Being in the yard is difficult because it is very dirty and dusty and when it rains muddy. So without a hose to wash things down we have to be careful to keep the dirt to a minimum on the boat. Personally my favorite part of being in the yard is climbing up and down the 12 foot ladder or perhaps the intense heat in the boat, or wait, it could be the mosquitoes. I just can’t decide due to delirium.

Mike began having problems almost immediately. This job was not going to be easy because to get to the seal you have to either take apart the prop (not really a great option) or drop the rudder. So the pounding began to try to remove the foot. It took two days…and guess what? In the end the rubber seal was still in good condition. The real problem was the packing; it had disintegrated inside the packing gland. Fortunately, they carry the correct sized packing here whereas we couldn’t get that in the US which is most likely why this happened in the first place. Now that we had taken apart the boat both inside and out (the access to the shaft is under the floorboards and under our bunk) we had to put everything back together. Since we had every tool that we have aboard out, the carpets and floorboards removed, mosquito nets, tarps and bedding on deck, incredibly smelly laundry piled high, cluttered counters, gritty floors from the dust, and a cranky crew, we had our work cut out for us to be able to get it together so that we could be put back in the water. First you have to get on the schedule for the lift which is a feat in itself. So Mike went to the office to be put on the list. He returned almost running to the boat and said, “We have a half hour or we will not go in today.” Well, you should see how one sentence like that can motivate the crew. Staying in the “heat hole” for one more night was not an option! Mobilized we divvied up the tasks and went to work. Phil and I painted the foot and places that had been missed in our last haul out. Mike finished putting things together inside while Doug cleaned everything off the top deck and ran to get tools that Mike hollered for. Andrew was sent on an errand to find a screw that was stripped… Mike was replacing the last screw when the lift arrived. The boat was still a wreck, but that could be taken care of when we got in a slip with electricity, air-conditioning and water.

It was a good thing that we hurried to be put in the water because we were the only one’s to be moved that day. They had to” work” on the lift. (A comforting thought after being suspended 20 feet in the air before the “work” was done.)

We are now comfortably in a slip and our view isn't too shabby either:

Air-conditioning is on. Laundry is going. Cabin is cleaned. Deck is washed. Counters are cleared. Life is GOOD! Only a couple of chores left and just in the nick of time for Omi and Opa’s visit.

Trinidad- Sue's View

2008-07-22T12:25:00.000-04:00

After a working "holiday" if you could call it that in both Florida and South Carolina, I flew into Port Of Spain. I owe Damon and Melanie big because they endured picking me up at 3am and taking me for my return flight also at 3 am. They are REAL FRIENDS!! I spent a lot of my time in their home and even gave them what we called the Puerto Rican flu or funk. I was surprised that they let me return again for my return flight out of Orlando. My Mom and I spent "quality" time together cleaning the filthy mess that the renters left in our house. She also saved our cat Blackie Chan from the gas chamber and in doing so she now has two cats. Doug is thrilled and promises to take care of them. So I owe Mom and Daddy Eddie big, too! Seems like we owe everyone because it "takes a village" to help the homeless vagabonds. So thank you everyone. We will be forever in your debt! I also owe a big thank you to Rosanne and Wes, Ben Jansen's parents. My mom and I stayed at their house for a weekend. It was so much nicer to stay with friends than to camp out in a hotel room! While I am thanking everyone I want to thank Heidi and Kevin, (Doug's other parents), and Pat (another Jansen kid) for all of their help! We miss ya'll!

When I arrived here I was worried about clearing customs because I had all of Mike's medication with me. I also had a 64 pound box of books for Phillip's homeschooling. They were only interested in the box. So once again I got to empty all of its contents for inspection. Apparently they were looking for boat parts. So I passed. It was much easier than my St. Croix experience.

I arrived to a sparkling clean boat, a bottle of red wine and a banner welcoming me back. I think the crew missed me!

I missed them, too. I had forgotten how loud we are since I have been in homes with no kids!
It was raining and the rain continued for a week. In fact there has been only one mostly sunny day. I should not complain. It is hot here and without the rain it is really hot here, like hotter than hades. I know how hot it is because the boat is on the hard. It is 95 degrees in the cabin and the mosquitoes have had plenty of water to breed in since it is rainy season here. The fan I bought in West Marine on my trip home is a god send. It pushes the hot sticky air all over the cabin which helps, well sort of.

Mike and the boys are busy trying to fix the boat and I am here in the air conditioned Internet cafe. I haven't seen Mike this grubby in a long time. The boatyard is very dirty. I will have a lot of laundry to do when the job is done.

Meanwhile we did get invited to a pot luck. We met up with some boaters that we had sailed with on our trek down island. We also met several new people which was fun.

We are planning a trip up the Orinoco River in Venezuela where the people have limited contact with outsiders. The wildlife is supposed to be incredible, too. We have to find others who also want to go because it is so remote that if you do run into problems there will be someone there to help. We have to shop for supplies to trade with them. Phillip can't wait. They also do not speak English and speak only a little Spanish if any. So we have a list of Indian words to try to communicate with them. It will be an awesome experience. Unfortunately, the older boys will not be with us as they are flying home August 2nd. We will try to be as descriptive as Andrew in our writing!

We are hoping to have the boat repaired before Mike's parents come in on Thursday. Hopefully it will not be as rainy as well!

Trinidad - Crew's View by Andrew

2008-07-20T13:34:00.000-04:00

Our arrival in Trinidad was spectacular. It did rain a bit before we arrived, and the water was green because of the outflow of the Orinoco River. Nevertheless, it was a sight I will never forget. The entire hillside was green.

There were no gaps in the verdure covering the slopes, not even on the vertical cliff faces. Vines hung down all around the rocks, covering them as if by a veil of green fibers. There were small beaches fringing the cliffs, and where areas were there were no beaches, the water had carved small caverns. It was very wild seeming, and tropical to boot. We could see, off in the distance, the mountains of Venezuela. All in all it was quite a spectacle. When we rounded the point into the bay, we saw what appeared to be an endless sea of white masts both in the water on moorings and docks, and out of the water on the hard. There was a place where large barges could be hauled out, and many more where a boat such as ours could be taken care of. There were just a couple of small problems: there were no open mooring buoys, and we needed to clear customs. We ran into an English couple with whom my family is acquainted, Peter and Wendy on Keesje II. They were flabbergasted that we had turned around and headed south, and were thrilled to see us again. We decided that it would be best to find the people that owned the buoys, so we pulled up to a dock to ask for some direction to the owner of the buoys.
This was where the real fun began… As we pulled up to the dock, a worker came outside to greet us. Phil hopped onto the dock to catch lines. Dad proceeded to interrogate the worker, “Can you tell us who owns these mooring balls out in the bay?” The response was a half-mumbled, half-stuttered, half-assed, incomprehensible statement. Dad asked for clarification several times before he finally was able to get a clear answer. We went to the customs dock, where dad cleared us in, Phil and I searched for the owner of the moorings, and Doug put on the sail covers. As we all did our duties, the Adamo was being scratched by an errant bolt sticking out of the fender, damaging the BRAND NEW paint job on the rub-rail. Dad was highly pissed about that, so he complained to the front desk. In the end, we stayed the night at the dock, without water or electricity, but we had full access to all of the hotel’s amenities (yes, a hotel owned the customs dock), including a pool, a gym, and washrooms. I never did get to use the gym… but Phil and I did use the pool and the washrooms, it was nice to bathe in fresh water again. After that we went out for a couple of beers with Peter and Wendy, then returned to the boat and ordered pizza. At UF, most of my sustenance consisted of pizza, but on the Adamo, I hadn’t eaten pizza in months.
The next day came bright and early. By 11:00 am we had to be moved to another dock, so dad gave me the job of finding dockage rates at all of the marinas in this bay, the rates for haul-outs, and a place to get some canvas work done. As Phil drove me around on the dinghy it rained without letup. We moved to a dock where the rate is $16 US, per day, with electricity and water included for free. When dad saw the rates, he told the crew to immediately mobilize; this was the place for us. We had to moor up to the dock stern-to, which was a ton of fun. Today was spent at the boat. We watched Forrest Gump, I put waterproofing on the canvas, and I worked for the first time since St. Croix. Dad went and got a rental car, and the plan was to go into town and get dinner. Before we left, though, the dock master told my dad that we could grab a couple of beers for ourselves on him because it was his birthday. I had half a beer left, so the two beers were for dad and Doug. The beer was in a cooler inside of a small office. Actually, it was a large shipping container that had a partition built into it. The room formed by this was the office/party room. Dad opened up the door and smoke came billowing out; do I detect the sweet smell? Dad grabbed two beers and jokingly told the guys in the jam packed room, “Hey, it smells nice in here.” They thought that it was funny; we all did. As we headed to the car, dad handed Doug the beer. I watched him as he took a sip; the expression on his face was priceless. I got the feeling as though it was not to his liking, because he gave the beer to me and said, “Here, you can have this. I don’t want it.”
When we got to town, we saw a fast food place called Wok and Roll. I told dad, who then immediately told us that tonight we were going to eat Chinese food. I can’t even remember the last time I had Chinese. The service was extraordinarily slow, or so it seemed since I was hungry. The meal I ordered, Mongolian beef, was spicy as hell; I was sweating and I could feel the heat in my ears. $164.00 for dinner, and I could only manage to eat half of it. Relax; it was TT dollars (Trinidad and Tobago’s currency). It really isn’t worth much; it’s like monopoly money and has and exchange rate of $6.00TT to $1.00US. Everything here is cheap, but that doesn’t change the fact that I’m still hungry, because I only had a chicken spring roll and half of the beef. Tough shit, I guess. Right now we are about to watch “Beavis and Butthead Do America” and relax; we have a big day ahead of us tomorrow. Dad says that we are going to get up early and go explore the island. I love a good adventure.
Exploring is undoubtedly one of the best parts of island hopping, and one can get a much better feel for the island by straying off the beaten path and getting a bit lost. We began the day at 6:30 am, just after sunrise. We breakfasted on bacon and eggs; it was a hearty breakfast and we would doubtlessly need the energy for a day like this. For starters, our ride of choice was an old, beat to hell Nissan; a typical, small, piece of shit rental car. Before the trip even began, before we even got in the car, Doug said, “I would not be surprised if the bumper fell of while we were driving. This thing looks like crap.” Phil, the gypsy, was riding shotgun when we left. Before the day was over, we would all have our turn, but in the meantime it looked funny; the two big kids crammed in the back and the 14 year old in the front with dad. I still can’t get over the fact that most of the islands down here drive on the left side of the road, but even more bizarre is the fact that some of the cars have the driver’s side on the right.
So we set off, our goal being to find the road that runs along the north coast. The roads here, as we soon discovered, do not have adequate signage, and it is nearly impossible, unless you have lived here for a while, to know at any time exactly just where in the hell you are. Furthermore, as we also found out, the map that we were given with the rental car did not have the correct street names on it, further complicating matters of navigation. At one point, we turned off onto a small side-street, thinking that perhaps it led to where we wanted to go. Instead, we found a neighborhood of pastel-colored shanties with corrugated metal used in roofs and fences. The roads were fairly steep, and incredibly narrow. We passed by a group of people sitting outside of a shanty on the side of the road on the way up the hill, and they seemed surprised to see us, a group of white people with blonde hair and blue eyes. After reaching a dead end, having to go in reverse down a hill with a 50 degree slope, and go back the way we came, a member of that very group stopped us as we drove by. “What’s the word?” he asked. “We’re just driving around.” “Man, you don’t go drivin round in des holes. You jus can’t drive round here like dat. You jus go back da way ya came. Even if ya Phat, ya don’t come drivin tru des holes. Da niggas here is grimy. An ya don’t stop fa nobody here.” I came so close to just laughing at him. Who the hell did he think he was; he certainly didn’t scare me, because after a few days of not showering, I was feeling pretty “grimy” myself. He had an attitude, was full of shit, probably wanted to impress his buddies, and was definitely just trying to scare the white people. I’ve been in scarier places than that before. Dad just told him whatever and we continued our explorations.
We found what appeared to be a major road heading north to the coast, so we followed it a ways and discovered, after talking to a local, that it did not lead to the coast, but to a waterfall instead. The situation was a comedy of errors. In order to get there, however, we had to drive through a small creek. The bridge had collapsed, so now the road simply ran through the water. The bottom was rocky, and it was only a few inches deep, but we could all hear the car bottoming out as we drove. The path was not paved, and diverged into a flat, grassy road, and a sloped road made of large, loose rocks. We chose the grassy road, but found that it dead ended at a house; no waterfall today boys!

There was a concrete ditch by the side of the “road” for drainage, and as we backed of the driveway of the house, dad drove the right front wheel into it. It was almost the exact width of the wheel, and as he tried to get out of it, the back wheel also got stuck. Dad turned to the right and hit the gas, moving the front tire out of the rut, then hit the reverse, moving the back tire out as well. He was now straddling the trench, and before he had a chance to do anything else, we suddenly heard a loud “Psssssssssssssssst” and watched the front right side of the car lower. A sharp stump hidden in the knee high grass had cut though the wall of the tire. Shit. Now we had a problem. Dad decided that to prevent further damage to the car, it would be a good idea to put a stone in the trench to prop up the right front wheel as he backed up. As he backed over the rock, the wheel made it just fine. Unfortunately, the bumper didn’t. The bumper got caught on the stone and fell off but for a couple of screws on the far left side. The right side was now being dragged on the road. We scrambled to tell dad to stop the car, lest the bumper be removed entirely. When we informed dad that the bumper was dragging on the ground, he only replied by saying, “No f…ing way. You guys are shitting me right? Damn it!” He hopped out of the car, took a look at the bumper, and then pushed it back up into place. “Hmm, this isn’t the first time that this has happened to this car.” I don’t know how he could tell, but I believe him, this car was a piece of shit, and it was no surprise that something like this would happen.

While dad hooked up the bumper and replaced the flat, and after finding Phil’s sunglasses he had lost somewhere in the jungle brush, Phil and I walked up the steep gravel road in search of the waterfall. We didn’t reach it. We got tired of walking and turned around. We departed and were just about to cross the small brook when dad told me to wash off the flat tire that was now in the trunk. After rinsing the mud off of the tire, and securely replacing the tire, an SUV with large letters saying “POLICE” drove up. Two officers hopped out and immediately asked us to open our trunk. I suppose they thought we had a body in the trunk or something after seeing me close the trunk. We explained that we had just put a flat tire in the trunk, and after opening it and pushing on the tire to see that it was indeed flat, they asked to see Dad’s license and asked further questions.

Finally, they returned to their vehicle and went on their way; and I half expected them to shake us down for money.

We decided not to drive across this bridge, though there actually were tire tracks across it. Yes, those are tires filled with concrete acting as the pillars.

We spent the next thirty or so minutes driving in circles on and off the highway looking for the road that would take us to the north coast. We finally found it, but it had an altogether different name from that on the map. We followed the road into the mountains, and things began to get interesting. The road changed from asphalt to groomed concrete and became much narrower. The road also began to wind much more than earlier; the guardrail disappeared entirely. On top of this, the slope became dramatically increased, to the point where the car could just barely make it over the hills, and we could feel the transmission beginning to conch out; it was heating up to the point where we could feel the forward drive gear engaging by a jerking motion. We followed the road for quite a while, ascending into the mountains on what seemed like an insurmountable trail. We eventually reached a fork in the road, right in the middle of a samll town, and figured this would be a great place to go to the restroom, grab a Stag (local beer), and ask for directions. After doing all of these things, and after a few strange looks from the locals, we continued slowly on our way.

Driving on these hills was made only more interesting when we would encounter another car moving downhill, which usually occurred while turning a corner with a grade of 60 degrees. Just when I was beginning to think that we would forever be following the snakelike road, the car inched its way over the last turn and roared up onto the top of the mountain. Dad had to floor it to get over the hump. The car was barely moving until Dad turned of the A/C. The extra couple of horse power got us over the hill. Doug kept saying his Jeep would have been the perfect car for this ride. When we finally did reach the top, the view was incredible. There were sheer drop-offs on either side of the road, which followed the ridge on top of the mountains, and not a single guardrail in sight.

As we drove, we ran into another fork in the road. We decided to take the uphill route and discovered much to our chagrin, that it became a dead end. There was a grassy knoll here, with benches and a sign saying: Beach Trail – Length 8500 feet.

We walked a ways down the trail, though not to the beach, and took some pictures. Phil saw some ants carrying leaves, and I explained that these were leafcutter ants. The ants carry the leaf bits to their nest, where they use them as a fertilizer. They cultivate a mold that grows on the rotting leaves, and it is this mold from which they draw their subsistence.
After the hike, we returned to the car and took the other side of the fork. It took us to the North Coast road, which was much more modern, less steep, and less winding. Finally, we had reached our road. We stopped at a rest stop and bought some foods from a vendor there. I didn’t like any of it. Fortunately, we did stop for lunch a bit further down the road.

It was a small burger shack perched on a hill overlooking a postcard worthy beach packed with people and palm trees. Burgers cost $10 TT, which equals $1.67 US; damn, the exchange rate is good! After eating burgers and some of the local specialty “bake and shark”, Phil climbed the mango tree out front of the place. Then we headed back to the boat and called it a day.

Mom flew in yesterday, and boy was dad eager to get to the airport. On our way we looked for a gas station and found, after 20 minutes of fruitless searching, that there were surprisingly few on the main roads. When we finally did find one, we were greeted by a few surprises. First off, the car only held 7 or 8 gallons of gas; in fact, I’m surprised we didn’t run out the previous day. We asked the attendant to put in 7 gallons, and almost filled up the entire tank from 1/8 of a tank. In fact we had to ask him to stop. The bigger surprise came when we asked the attendant how much it would cost us: “That will be 36 dollars.” Dad asked, “US or TT?” The biggest surprise was the flat response, “TT dollars, of course.” Wow, that basically meant that gas here costs approximately $1.00 US per gallon. I suppose when one considers the fact that Trinidad is an oil producing nation, and is fairly close to Venezuela both in terms of geography and economy (i.e. lots of trade), it isn’t so shocking. But still… one dollar per gallon; when was the last time we had a price like that in the states?

Dominica Cookout and Sailing South

2008-07-10T19:01:00.000-04:00

We had planned to spend just a day in Dominica in our rush to get down to Trinidad, then we met up with Otis and Jenny from Independence. Our plans changed. They had invited us to a beach cookout the following day. With the beauty of the island and an invitation to dinner, it was just too hard to leave.

We also met the crew from Lady Franchesca who attended the cookout as well. It turned out that the cookout was in a beach front restaurant. One of the locals, Bogart, organized and cooked while the rest of us enjoyed his rum punch drinks.

One of the rasta guys we met lives in a tree. Talk about no expenses.

The morning after the cookout, we sailed 20 miles south to the Southern Tip of Dominica. We moored up and were invited to shore for the village's celebration of Fisherman's Day.

One of the bars was selling fried ballyhoo, head and all. Not to shy away from local foods, we order one and ate it. The boys thought it was gross. I thought it tasted like smelt and wasn't too bad. In any case, we were eating bait!

From the Southern tip of Dominica we planned to head to Martinique. As it turned out, the wind and waves were ideal for heading south so we sailed 3 days and 2 nights until we reached Trinidad. The boys were fantastic on the trip. We all took turns with night watches. Phillip cooked whenever we were on the lee side of an island because there were no waves.

We worked our way past Martinique, then St. Lucia, St. Vincent, the Grenadines, Grenada, Tobago and finally to Trinidad. 340 miles.

340 miles leaves a lot of time on you hands. Phil and I were picking coco seeds from a coco fruit and laid them in the sun to dry. Then they have to be roasted and ground up. After all of that, you end up with pure chocolate powder.

Andrew was chilling on the back deck.

Entering Port of Spain in Trinidad is a little tricky, due to the current from a Venezuelan river spilling into the Caribbean Sea. The water is a greenish-brown due to the river. The island is lush and green.

When we finally hit Port of Spain we were knackered (British for "damned tired"), but thrilled to have made it to South America. We saw Peter and Wendy on Keesje II. They could not believe their eyeballs when they saw us enter the anchorage. The last time we spoke with them, we were heading North. We had a beer together and swapped stories. Then it was off to bed!

Side notes:

We were surprised at the number of sailboats down here. This scene goes on 4 times longer than what is pictured below.

We miss MaMa and are glad that she will be joining us again on Sunday! Three weeks is much too long when you are used to being together 24/7.

Dominica

2008-07-09T20:41:00.000-04:00

After a hearty eggs and toast breakfast, we pulled anchor and headed for Dominica, an independent country with 71,000 residents. Most of the island is tropical rain forest dotted with small villages on the coast and among the mountainous terrain. For the first time since our turn-around from our previous turn-around, i.e. heading south again, we had the pleasure of sailing beam reach in calm seas on a beautiful sunny day. Only 10 miles from the Saints, Dominica loomed large with it’s over 4000 foot mountain peaks.

We had heard that our friends on the catamaran Independence were in Dominica. As we rounded the point of the bay in Portsmouth, we saw them anchored in the calm waters along the edge of the national forest. It felt good to be back among the cruisers.

Dominica is known for its “boat boys”, men who paddle out to greet you and sell local fruits, arrange tours and collect your garbage. As soon as we had dropped anchor, Aluicious paddled up and offered us some passion fruit and avocados. He also informed us that the weekly market would be open the next morning at 5:00 a.m. and to get there early before the locals bought all the good stuff. Phil and I could not resist.

We arrived at 5:00 in the morning, and the vendors were already all set up. The produce selection was remarkable as were the prices: 6 star fruits 75 cents, avocados 15 cents, passion fruit 6 for 75 cents, fresh cut ripe pineapples $1.50. Phil and I loaded up on fruits and veggies and headed back to the boat for a small breakfast feast.

After breakfast, the boys and I headed for the rain forest. We followed a road out of town, then climbed a steep rocky road up the mountain into the forest.

Banana and pineapple farms were nested among the thick jungle. We wanted to see more and we cut through several banana fields heading deeper into the woods. I think we startled a local farmer as we traipsed along the edge of his field. He wanted to know if we were lost and needed a guide. I explained that we just wanted to explore on our own and asked if it would be okay for us to proceed along the edge of his field. “No problem, just don’t get lost.” With that we walked deeper into the woods.

We came upon a valley with an incline so steep we had to hold on from tree to tree to make our way down. As we descended, the babbling of a mountain stream become louder and clearer. Now we had found something cool. When we reached the stream, we found ancient cypress trees with buttressed walls of roots straddling the stream. It’s not every day you get excited about a tree, but even the boys were dully impressed.

Following the stream back to the village seamed to be a good idea at first. We gingerly made our way down the valley following the banks of our brook. We paused for a photo. Phil was about to start heading down when I saw a large boa constrictor about 3 feet ahead of him coiled up in a sunny spot on the bank. Phil flipped out: “I almost stepped on that thing.” We took a long stick, a very long stick and poked at it. He struck at the stick with a huge wide-open mouth, then slithered away into the under brush.

This seemed like a good time to change our plan. We would return back up the hill rather than follow the snake down the river. Going up that hill was a challenge, but no-one complained. We were all happy to be getting way from that snake.

Back at the banana farm, we told the famer, Philistine, about our encounter. He belly laughed and said he knew they were out there, but he didn’t want to keep us from our ”mission.” We all got a chuckle out of it.

On the way back to the boat we headed down the gravel road and found a mango tree and wild sugar cane growing along the side. We stocked up on them both and headed back triumphantly to the Adamo.

On the Move - Captains View

2008-07-04T07:44:00.000-04:00

Andrew had mentioned to me several times that “we just need to get out of here” as we walked the mile to the local grocery store again. The crew had spent a month in St. Croix and they were ready to move on. Susan is still back in the US, so the boys and I concocted a plan to sail south as quickly as possible. The idea was to head to the Grenadines skirting the coast of the lesser Antilles on our way.

We departed St. Croix at 9:00 a.m. on July 1st and set our course on St. Kitts. Incredibly, the wind was from the East North East. We motor sailed all day heading due east. As night fall came upon us, we shut the engine down and turned slightly to the south so we could sail the rest of the night. The silence that followed a day of the diesel engine droning on was a welcome relief.

Andrew took the helm from 10 p.m. to 12 a.m. My shift was from 12 to 1 a.m. Doug’s from 1 to 2. Then Andrew again from 2 to 3. Phil from 3 to 4. I took the helm at 4 a.m. for the rest of the night.

Up until 4 a.m. the winds were definitely in our favor at 23knts. I was surprised at our progress so far. Then at 4 the wind just died. The Adamo will not sail to weather in light winds. We had no choice but to fall off. Now we were heading due south, which was actually taking us further from shore. My concern was that if we got far enough out into the middle of the Caribbean Sea, the waves can build to a point where you just can’t head east anymore. With a tropical storm on the way from Africa, I most definitely did not want to get caught out in the middle of now where and no opportunity to ditch to an island for safety.

So, much to my chagrin, we restarted the engine and motor sailed east again. As the engine droned on, we set our course for Montserrat. We could see the island and it’s active volcano in the distance, but the current and the sea state made our progress painfully slow.

As we approached, the waves were coming from two directions at 90 degrees to each other. No matter which way we steered the boat, we were heading directly into oncoming waves with other waves hitting us from the side. Most uncomfortable.

When we finally made it to a spot to anchor up, there was a mooring ball with our name on it. We hooked up and the first thing out of Phil’s mouth was: “lets go diving!” So we did. An hour later we were having fresh caught ray-fingers for dinner.

I went to bed. Doug worked on his last bit of home school for the year until 12 a.m. He just wanted it to be over with. At 5:00 a.m. I fixed scramble eggs for breakfast for everyone and we were off. A quick check of the weather from our satellite system said: expect 14 to 19knts of wind. So we left with an un-reefed main sail. As we rounded the tip of Montserrat, a huge cloud from came upon us. Winds kicked up to 35knts. It was raining so hard the canvas could not keep us dry.

At the first lull in the wind, Andrew and I were on deck double reefing the main. As the wind kicked back up we were ready. The remainder of the day the winds blew between 25 to 30 and we were booking it at over 8mph into the current.

We did not reach the Saints, located just south of Guadeloupe, before night fall. Everyone aboard was dreading the upcoming unpleasantness: “anchoring in the dark.” The first anchorage was too tight. Twenty minutes later we dropped anchor in spot number two. The new chain got stuck in the locker. Phil wrestled that one free. The anchor was down, but would not hold. Then the new chain got stuck in the windlass; still needs tweaking before it will work right. The Boys pulled up the anchor by hand. Of course, it’s deep here so we had let out all 200 feet of chain. We headed to anchorage number three. Boats were all around, some with lights some without. "Great we get to pick our way through to an open spot." Finally, the anchor held and we settled in a good location.

Doug, who just wanted to go to bed, was near tears and mad. He was finish and exhausted, but had to change the sheets on his bunk because they got wet from saltwater intrusion from beating into the waves for 3 days. You know how sometimes you are so frustrated you get mad at inanimate objects. Well, he was there! He was mumbling under his breath and ripping things out of the closet trying to find the sheets. Finally when the bunk was all put together he hoped in and clocked his head on the ceiling . . . a perfect ending to a frustrating day.

Now with that said, when you wake up in the morning after a good night sleep and have a view like this:

Well, it just doesn’t seem that bad.

Crew's View Ben's Last Week - by Andrew

2008-06-29T19:32:00.000-04:00

I have some good news. Mom rented the house out to 3 Embry-Riddle students. Hooray! Now we can head south without the stress of worrying about the house. More good news; Phil and Ben lasted the night on the beach, though, not too far from their camp I discovered some scorpions later during the afternoon.

What’s the bad news? My legs are sunburnt, again.

I spent all day at the island while we were in Newfound Bay. Phil and Ben constructed a fenced-in area with a fire pit and a lean-to shelter with a tarp roof. After fooling around for a while with the fire, they dismantled the shelter and left me at the beach. It started raining, so I knew that I had to go into survivor mode and construct a new shelter.

I took it upon myself to improve upon the design of the old shelter using whatever I could find on the beach. I made a lean-to wooden frame and covered the wood beams with any plastic I could. I used vines and bit of rope I found to secure the fixture. It kept me dry. I actually spent most of the day doing just that.

Ben, Phil, and Doug pulled up a barracuda. They threw it back; quite a catch. I would have kept the jawbone at least. Barracuda and tarpon seem to enjoy hiding in the shade under the boat and attacking fish that swim by or get hooked by Phil. This fact, coupled with our bathing habits, adds a bit of excitement to the salt water shower/bath which we do in the water next to the boat.

The boys also caught 2 delicious snapper. Phil was ecstatic, “It’s my dream come true! I just held out some bait in my hand and they came right up to me! Then I got them! The fish came to me!” After lunch we all went snorkeling, though my goggles kept on fogging up, despite spit and anti-fog, so I didn’t see too much. Of the animals there, I did see some fish up under the mangroves, plenty of conch, some sea cucumbers that looked like really big feces (the scientific name for these is donkey-dung sea cucumbers… most appropriate), and several feather-duster worms. It was not as colorful or interesting as the coral reefs in my opinion, and there was a good deal of detritus on the ground from the mangroves.

After a few hours there, we decided to move to Coral Bay. I think it’s rather funny how everything that could go wrong has gone wrong since Ben has arrived. I’m sure he’s thinking, “Man, this cruising stuff is hard. Things always are breaking, you get seasick in big squalls, the anchor doesn’t hold, and the chain doesn’t work.” True, it had been a long day, a long week, to say the least.

It was time to unwind with a few good games of horseshoes. I also learned an important lesson at the bar… things are never what they seem. This applies to everything. Why did the Danforth hold the second time when we really wanted to haul it up and move? It was wrapped around a big rock. Why did the chain not work? Per my grandfather (Wolfgang) it was an inferior quality product. More importantly, how old was the girl that was checking me out at the bar? She was 14!? Ugh! Gross! Scary… in fact, criminal, had it gone any further than conversation. That’s crazy. Gentlemen, it’s time to go back to the boat!

We had hamburgers on the boat, listened to AC/DC (the only hard rock my dad will listen to), and wrote in our journals. I really started something with the journals. Dad saw what I was doing and is now making everyone keep one. I enjoy this, but that isn’t quite true of the others, especially Phil and Ben. At the end of the week, we sailed back to St. Croix. I was so excited to be out of there and now it looks like we’ll be here another week doing repairs, flying Ben home, and making more connections on the island courtesy of Shaun.

The sail back was much, much smoother than the sail there. We narrowly missed a squall front, and just barely squeaked by. All the while the sun was shining, and I fell asleep on the back deck. I woke up sunburnt on my chest and arms; good thing I had the foresight to at least put sunscreen on my face.

After arriving in the slip, dad and I set about buying a new anchor chain. While there was not as much heavy lifting as I expected, this operation was quite tedious. First, dad pulled out our old chain by hand. Next, he went to the trailer where the chain was stored in large barrels and had the proper length of chain cut.

The next step was to cart the chain over to the dock in a barrel; check. Then, braid the rope to a shackle attached to the bitter end of the chain; check. Feed the chain through the gypsy on the windlass, then through the hawse; check, or almost. The chain fit perfectly into the gypsy, but did not want to come out again because it was a snug fit. Basically, for us, it means that we had to install a stripper on the hawse; not the pole dancing kind, but a thin piece of metal that projects into the gypsy and forces the chain links to leave the windlass. For the time being though, we had to use an Allen wrench. After that, dad attached the chain to the anchor. He went to install a stripper only to find that one of the screws in the hawse had broken in the hole and that it would be necessary to use a drill press to remove it. While he dealt with that problem, Phil and Ben left for town to buy a bracelet for Ben…

So while the boys were going out to do their thing, dad instructed me to go to the local grocery store to pick up two 12 packs of Budweiser. En route to the grocery store, a Rasta hailed me from across the street and, after a moment of hasty small talk, he proceeded to spout out some gibberish about Amsterdam. I didn’t know if he was trying to ask me a question or if he was making a declarative statement… the island accent is such that they put stress on the last words of a sentence, so every sentence sounds like a question. Is that a question? I asked him to repeat what he said a couple of times and could only understand the word Amsterdam. I figured it had something to do with marijuana (he’s a Rasta for crying out loud!), but I didn’t know. So I asked him, “What’s that about Amsterdam?” To which he replied, slowly, so that I could understand, “Hey mon, a piece of Amsterdam, you know what I saying, yeah? I’m a Rasta; you should know what I’m talking about.” I told him that I didn’t have any, but he obviously wanted to talk, because he told me all about how wonderful the “crop” in California was when he went there. I could hardly understand what he was saying, so I just smiled and nodded and agreed with whatever he said. He then told me that things weren’t so good on the island in that department, and went on his way; Rasta’s, they’re crazy, but funny. On Anguilla, a Rasta started talking to us on the beach, then pulled out a blunt that he rolled in a marijuana leaf, instead of a piece of paper, and lit up right there. Ganja is everywhere in the islands.

Ben’s mother purchased tickets for him to fly back tomorrow at 5:00 pm. It is Benny boy’s last day as crew on the Adamo!

We will certainly miss him. He and Phil spent a good deal if time making a most noisy contraption, a conch horn. It is a conch shell with the top spire removed from the crown. This leaves a hole into which you can blow. The reverberations of the air passing through this opening creates a monotonic blast that is extremely loud and also quite annoying after Phil repeats the sound fifty or so times. Phil has one, Ben has one for himself, and there is one extra for us. Perfect; this is just what we need: another noisemaking device on board.

We have a sort of to-do list to finish up before Tuesday. On Tuesday we believe will have a weather window for the two day crossing to Guadeloupe, or possibly to the Saints or the Grenadines if the good weather lasts.

Some Nights are Better than Others

2008-06-25T21:26:00.000-04:00

We anchored up in Hansen Bay on the East end of St. John yesterday afternoon. It’s a tough spot to anchor because it is deep all the way up to the shore and drops-off at a steep angle. Not great holding.

After dropping and diving on both the front and aft anchor I was satisfied that we would stay put for the night. The boys and I went diving and returned with two lobsters. After dinner we were working on Ben’s journal when I noticed the Bic banging on the side of the Adamo’s hull. Doug had sailed the little sailing boat from New Found Bay earlier in the day, following us in the Adamo in open ocean sailing. The trip was about 3 miles and he had a great time.

In any case, the Bic was left in the water in anticipation of the forecasted heavy winds for the following day. As the wind began to pickup, the Adamo swung between the two anchors we had set. It was a strange wind because we were nestled close to shore behind a 200 foot hill. Sometimes the wind pushed us towards shore, other times it pushed us into the bay.

When we went on deck to investigate the Bic’s behavior, we realized that we were dragging anchors. Now we had a problem. The Adamo was 30 feet from hitting another sailboat. We had 2 smaller boats, the Bic and the dinghy, in the water tethered to the Adamo. It was dark. Rocks all around. And when we retrieved the front anchor we were surprised to find nothing but chain. The anchor chain had failed and we had lost our bow anchor.

Sparing you all the details, we raised the smaller boats on deck. Pulled out another anchor from the cargo hold. Motored around and reset the new anchor in a suitable spot further out in the bay. The anchor dragged at first, but then caught. We were uncomfortably close to a cliff about 100 yards to our stern so we were going to try to re-anchor, but the anchor was stuck. Bummer. We had no choice but to stay put. As you can imagine, my confidence level in our holding and the anchor chain were very low.

We took turns sitting at the helm all night till dawn, watching the GPS for the anchor dragging or the chain snapping again. I was very proud of the boys and thankful for being there to help. It was a long night with very strong wind gusts. And still the wind was very unpredictable, blowing from all sides as the Adamo did circles around the anchor.

The light of day was a welcome relief. I dove the anchor while Phil was at the helm. Doug manned the windlass. The chain had wrapped around a rock 25 to 30 feet down. I free-dived over and over to wrestle with the damned thing until finally it was free. Then it was off to find our lost anchor from the night before. We found it right away with the help of the GPS tracks (little dots that show where you have been). Then we headed into another anchorage with mooring balls. The boys hooked us up. Finally we were secure. What a night!

New Crew’s View – Ben Jansen's View

2008-06-24T11:38:00.000-04:00

(This entry I received via the satellite email as they are out of range of Internet. Pictures will be added later...Sue)

I arrived in St. Croix on June 11th. The Jansen’s picked me up at the airport and brought me back to the Adamo. We spent the afternoon collecting Coconuts and Mango’s.
In the morning we went out conching. Phil taught me how to clean conch and we had conch salad for breakfast. We spent the rest of the day fishing and played football in the evening. At the end of the day, I was tired!

The remainder of the week we fished, played football and went to town. Phil’s mom had to go back home. So we decided to sail to St. John for a few days. We left early in the morning. We thought it was going to be not as rough. But it was rough, very rough and windy and scary. I got sea sick. Fortunately, it was a short trip. We arrived in St. John at two in the afternoon.

I was happy to be out of the ocean. We have been snorkeling.

Phil’s dad caught a huge lobster. We ate it for lunch.

We went camping on the beach.

It didn’t work out as planned. We had rat problems and Phil wanted his mama. So we ended up leaving.

The following day we went to Cruz Bay to see the town. We walked around looking at shops and boutiques. Then we sailed to New Found Bay and decided to go camping again. This time we made it through the night. We cooked eggs and fish on the camp fire.
Today I learned how to sail on the Bic (a small sailboat).

I sailed okay, but also flipped it.

So far this summer has been a blast!

A View From The "Real World" by Sue

2008-06-20T15:45:00.000-04:00

Well, I am in Florida after a horrendous flight originating in St. Croix. In fact the day began with irritation. Mike lost his mind and began sanding/scraping the deck right over my cabin at 6am. For all of those who truly know me, this was a huge offense! It was not an"A.M.A." (Approved Morning Activity). I made a list concerning our morning etiquette early on in our travels so that we can all live harmoniously together in our small space. These A.M.A.'s consist of things like reading a book, writing in a journal, doing a blog entry, or studying the charts. They do not, however, include things like talking loudly, playing opera at full volume, fixing things on deck while others are trying to sleep...you get my drift. So after this rude awakening I had to varnish the toerail, clean up the cabin, shower, and pack for my trip back.

When I checked my bags in St. Croix I had the fantastic privilege of being chosen to have my bag inspected. I placed my duffel bag on the examining table and was sternly informed that I was not to reach over, touch, or place anything else on the table as she inspected my bag. I stood there a little dumbfounded as she proceeded to completely unpack my bag. She took each piece of clothing out, squeezed it, unfolded it, wanded it, and set it aside. After she fondled each article of clothing and displayed my large bras in front of every passerby she began to open all the makeup, deodorant, lotion...etc.
Now the bag is empty and she is still staring at it like something more must be in it, so she felt the entire flexible, non-rolling, nylon bag, wanded it, twice and finally started to repack my clothes. Being a "type A" person who likes to pack in an orderly fashion, I was fidgeting and pleading with her with my eyes to let me put my things back so that everything would not be wrinkled up in a ball, but I had been sternly warned..no touching! Again, those who know me well ,know that I do not like to iron so it was painful to watch as she stuffed it all haphazardly back into the bag. After that I saw three middle-easterner's mosey on by, bags untouched...I guess I fit the profile, go figure? The flight to San Juan was on a small plane. There were about 10 of us on it so it was basically empty. I arrived in San Juan walked to my next flight which was scheduled to leave in thirty minutes only to find the gate packed with lines of people. Not a good sign! At the desk there was a monitor that was flashing "Departure Now - 10:30pm".
Two earlier American Airline flights were canceled and every seat on this flight was booked with a list of twenty standby passengers waiting and hoping to get on the delayed flight. At this point I went to the bar. It was now 7:45pm. I had gotten up earlier than planned, had a full day and was gearing up for what appeared to be a long night ahead. And a long night it was. At 11pm I heard cheering and commotion at the gate I went to see what was happening. An auction had begun. Desperate people were demanding to get on the flight and the Airline was offering vouchers. The price steadily increased to a $400.00 voucher, tickets to a show, and hotel accommodations. Only one taker! We finally boarded the plane and took off at 11: 40pm scheduled to arrive in Orlando at 3:00am. The plane was hot, and packed with Puerto Ricans speaking loudly in Spanish, I was in a row with four people and fortunately had an isle seat. Across from me were four children under 7 years old, and the lady next to me had a 2 year-old lap child, meaning I was not going to get any rest! I finally gave up and let her lay him flat across our laps so he at least could sleep. By the grace of God they played a movie, The Bucket List. It was one I had already seen, but I am used to watching movies over and over so I put on the headphones, blocked everything out, and watched. We landed at 3:00am. We all stumbled through the empty airport to baggage claim. I got lucky, my bag was one of the first out of the plane. Damon, bless his heart, was waiting for me at the airport to take me to his home. I felt so badly that it was the middle of the night and had tried to convince him that I could get a hotel at the airport when I got in so that he could sleep since he has work in the morning, but he said, "No Way."

Sleeping in a real bed was great! As was the shower that I took in the morning! Wow, nothing like deprivation to make you appreciate the simple things in life! Damon left me his car to drive, a range rover, very nice! He should have had doubts about lending me his car because I have not driven a car in 9 months and I don't know the area; however, he just handed me the key, drew me a map and wished me a great day. After meeting Melanie for lunch, I spent 3 hours in a Super Target! Again, Wow, I think it is my favorite store, everything you could ever need or want under one roof! How convenient!

Melanie made me a hair appointment for Friday morning. Melanie took the day of to play with me. I could hardly contain my excitement! Her hair stylist was terrific! I finally got rid of the "Puerto Rican blond" (orange) from my attempt at getting my hair highlighted there. We had wine at lunch and went for a pedicure. I feel pampered and put together again!

Mike called and said that he has a potential renter for the house so my job of emptying the house of personal things into storage is at the top of my list. I have had many offers from friends to help me so at least I can visit while packing. Plus my mom is coming down to help, too, and I am looking forward to her visit.

I am anxious to see what our home looks like after the first renters. Keep your fingers crossed!

Home Alone

2008-06-19T18:43:00.000-04:00

Ben’s first week kept him pretty busy: fishing, conching, boating, football, exploring etc… I overheard the boys talking, and Ben said: "Chickens are pretty fast". Apparently Ben tried to chase one of the wild chickens down, but with no success. Man, I wish I would have had my camera for that one!

Here are the boys at Fort Christiansted.

At the same time Ben was keeping Phillip occupied, Susan, Andrew and I worked on some of the cosmetics on the boat: varnishing, painting, polishing, fixing and cleaning. The Adamo looks better than ever.

Doug spent the week working on home school every day. All that is left to do are two papers. There is a light at the end of the tunnel.

My meeting regarding a job here went well. And I will continue to stay in touch as positions begin to open up.

Yesterday, Susan flew back to the States to deal with our house and re-renting it out. The boys and I are “batching” it until she returns. Unfortunately, we don’t know when that will be, but she did promise she would return. Our plan was for the boys and I to do a longer sail down to Guadeloupe, however, the weather is not co-operating. We think we may head to St. John for a few days, while the wind settles down. Then we’ll turn back south (all subject to change of course). The funny thing is, as you meet more and more people on the island, it gets harder to leave. We keep getting invited to a cookout, or a beach party or whatever and we seem to always have plans for “next weekend”. I guess this is how cruisers get stuck in one place and never leave.

For us though, we do want to see more of the Caribbean. And if we wait for too long, then heading to the Grenadines and Trinidad will become too difficult due to the weather. Stay tuned and let’s see what happens. Here’s to cruising and not having a fixed plan.

St. Croix - Captain's View

2008-06-13T07:56:00.000-04:00

Yes, it is true. I sent my resume to a global financial company which is going to be based in St. Croix. They manage over $50 billion. However, they will not begin hiring in earnest here until their building/complex is completed in two years. But, I will be meeting with someone who works for the company next week who liked the resume well enough to want to get to know each other. He also forwarded the resume to another company on the island that may be hiring. So, right now our plans will remain very flexible.

Our marina at dawn.

Phil's best friend joined the Adamo crew two days ago. We picked him up at the airport and brought him back to our floating home. He's quite familiar with the boat and the rules on board from when we lived in Florida (squidgy the shower doors after your shower, don't pull the high water pressure knob, turn off the water while you suds up, wipe the sink out with a hand towel after brushing your teeth, keep the decks clear, don't sit in front of the fridge with the door wide open waiting for something to jump out at you, put your drinking cup away after your done, don't fall off the boat, everyone helps with chores, and finally . . . have a great time!)

Phil and Ben thought it would be a great idea to get Ben a name tag, so he wrote Ben's name on his back with sunscreen. Three hours later and everyone at the marina knew Ben's name. The rest of the Adamo crew is simply known as the "blond family".

As you can imagine, Phil, Ben and Doug have been very busy since Ben's arrival. Ben's first day here consisted of conching, snorkeling, fishing, seeing the town, collecting and husking coconuts and mangos, more fishing, shopping for a pocket knife, and more fishing! I asked him how his first day was and he said: "it was good . . . actually . . . amazing." and we have another satisfied customer!

That's all the news for now. Adamo out.

St. Croix - Crew's View by Andrew

2008-06-09T12:28:00.000-04:00

Again we have changed our plans. Big surprise… we decided originally to head north, back to the states, to get out of the Hurricane Box for insurance purposes and to take care of several other things. These being our houses in Daytona, our cats, Doug and Phil’s schooling (Doug would live with g-mom in South Carolina), our 4 cars, Dad’s career, and let’s see… what else could we possibly pile on top of this, is there any other stuff that depends on us returning home? Is it possible?!

“Whatever. We like it here”, they said, “Let’s stay and get jobs and call the insurance people so that we can get coverage down here.” Well, Dad applied for a job and, hey, guess what? They are hiring in two years when their building is completed. Needless to say, that plan was shot down, but rather than blithely accept or admit defeat, he decided that since the insurance company extended our coverage, we would turn around and continue south. Phil was FURIOUS; “WHAT??!! We can’t go back south, we’ve already gone 500 miles, we’ll be beating into the wind, and I HATE crossings!” Personally, I am quite of the mind that this is a once in a lifetime adventure, and that heading south is the best course of action. Fortunately, as it turns out, so are Mom and Dad, and consequently, we are heading south, or at least that is our plan for the moment. The general consensus, Phil aside, is that we are not finished cruising, and we would all like to see more of the Caribbean. Who wouldn’t?

Other than changing our plans, nothing much happened today; just another day at the dock. Here's Phil with his stash of sweet mangos he collected from a tree at the marina.

For the record, air conditioning is a wonderful invention, one that has greatly enriched all our lives here at the dock. I don’t know how long we will remain at the dock with shore power and unlimited water, but I know that it will not last too much longer. What day is it? I think it’s a Friday because I just asked Dad. We discuss what day of the week it is on a routine basis, because truthfully, nobody cares enough to remember. We have today, tomorrow, yesterday, and anything else requires a calendar. In any case, we stay at least until Sunday, because our friend Bruce invited us to go deep-sea fishing on that day. I guess we leave Monday?

On second thought, we did actually do something of interest today; at some point earlier this morning, we men went on the hunt for Conch. We drove out on the dinghy with our snorkeling gear, which consists of masks, flippers, snorkels, spear pole, Hawaiian slings, weight belts, a bag in which to put the Conch, and a floating air compressor fitted with a hose and a regulator. We anchored out over a bed of sea grass that was covered with large Conch: jackpot! We put on our gear, Dad started the compressor, and I grabbed the regulator and dove in. The plan was simple, yet remarkably clever and effective: Phil and Doug would watch from the surface and point out where the mollusks were to me using hand signals. I would remain near the bottom with the collection bag (I had the regulator, and thus unlimited compressed air) and grab the larger ones. I forgot how fun diving was; the feeling of weightlessness and the graceful swimming motions in particular.

In my blissful state of mind, I proceeded to pick up 8 large and fairly heavy Conch, and as such, I was weighted down and needed to drop off my catch on the dinghy before continuing. As I began to swim up, I felt something brush against my right ankle and flipper. I turned around and found myself staring in the lifeless eyes of a four foot long remora that seemed to have taken a liking to me and a taste for the pieces of debris falling off of the conch shells into the water around me.

Remoras look alien. They have extra pectoral fins that give them extra stability when they cling to a lager organism. They have a retractable, ridged, muscular sucker on top of their heads that lets them attach to the body or pectoral fins of large predators. Their bottom jaw sticks out so that they can catch falling scraps of food. This thing looked like a mix between a torpedo, a vacuum cleaner, and an X-Wing fighter, with a flat football stuck to its forehead.

And what, might I ask, was large enough to drag that around? And where was this animal? Not that it mattered right then… I near about shit my pants when it opened its mouth and unfurled its suction cup and headed for my foot (I guess it wanted a place to stick itself to). I kicked at it and it backed up, and then came back for a floating scrap which it then sucked into its mouth. I had a weight belt on, I was carrying a heavy bag, I had tunnel vision from my goggles, and I was fighting to keep control of the regulator, which kept sliding out of my mouth to one side. I couldn’t swim upwards, and now I had to fight off a remora who had a crush on my right flipper. I tried to back away and slowly surface, when Phil gave me a spear pole. I jabbed at it a couple of times, but it was out of reach (it knew to keep its distance). Nevertheless, the stupid thing wouldn’t leave me alone. It was not until Doug also swam by with a spear and chased it off that I could finally surface and give Dad the heavy bag. They were all laughing their asses off at my plight, in fact, Phil was laughing so hard that his mask filled with water.

Needless to say, I was done diving for the day, so I gave up the regulator and got on the dinghy to relieve Dad of his watch. We stopped when Phil sighted a large Barracuda, . . . we knew it was time to go. Our bounty: 40 Conch of various sizes, which we then cleaned on a nearby beach. I learned that one must beat a hole into the upper part of the shell so that a knife can be inserted to cut the muscles that hold the animal in its shell. Then, the slop (the guts) must be cut away, and the claw removed (these are predatory snails!!). This took about 90 minutes to do, and we dined on Conch salad for lunch. Other than that, I worked out a bit (which is a real pain in the neck to do on the boat), and just relaxed.

Here are Phil and I carbo-loading on the dock after the workout.

Right now, Phil is cooking noodles for dinner, after which we will watch Jurassic Park. What a night this will be! Hopefully I will be able to mail off my post-card tomorrow and finally be rid of it. A postcard from Anguilla with postage from St. Croix, that’s nice. I hope that it’s sunny tomorrow, and that I can get some sun, buy some $3.00 bottles of Cruzan rum, and get some more exercise. Maybe I can be productive…

Anguilla and St. Croix - Sue's View

2008-06-08T11:42:00.000-04:00

Neuta Time! Every evening we headed into the beach to play Bacci ball. It wasn't long before the local kids joined in. They loved it so much we left the game behind for them.

We planned to leave earlier in the week, but then heard about Anguilla Day and decided to stay for the Regatta and the festivities. Sailing is the national sport. The entire island tracks the island circumnavigation regatta either by following by boat or driving around the island in a car and viewing it from land.

Or they hop on a barge with a band, bar and port-a-potties to follow the race boats.

On June 1st we sailed to St. Croix and it was great to be sailing with the wind for a change. It was idyllic. The sun was shining. There was not a cloud in the sky. The waves were almost non existent and the wind was moderate which translates to "a perfect day for sailing". We were even able to use all four sails which pushed us along at 8mph. When we arrived we were almost out of water, beer, wine and rum! Ahh! So we decided to treat ourselves to time at a dock...meaning unlimited showers, laundry, electricity, and air conditioning! As well as, close proximity to re provisioning! I, being the only woman on board, am sooo thrilled. Luxury at last!

On the sail here the boys caught two huge wahoo and two big eyed tuna (sushi!).

Our freezer is stocked. We have learned to cook fish in many ways...fried fish, broiled fish, fish gumbo, fish scampi, steamed fish, fish chowder... mama always said, "life is like a box of chocolates..." Anyways, everyone's happy!

We are so happy, in fact, that we are turning around and heading south again! We decided that hurricane season was approaching too fast to make it out of the box and that we just aren't done with our adventure. So, we are awaiting the arrival of Phillip's best friend, Ben Dunn Jansen, "his brother from another mother", who will be spending the summer with us. Then we will head south to Montserrat to see the live volcano.

St. Croix once again is great as our cell phones work and we have Internet connection. It is good to be in touch with everyone, but the sound of the phones ringing is not one that pleases the ear.
We have been able to go to a grocery store, hardware store, and the many shops in Christiansted. Mike even applied for a job here, but the firm will be hiring in 2 years! Oh well ,maybe on the way back! Most importantly, we visited the brew pub, and yes mom, the rum punches are the best in the Caribbean so far!

I will also be flying back to the US to deal with our house. The renters decided to leave early so I have to take care of re renting... Also, we have 2 cats that we need to find homes for. Fatty has been with Damon and Melanie and they love her but a year is a long time. Blackie Chan has been living in our house with the renters so now he needs a home, too. The logistics of cruising can be overwhelming at times, however, it usually works out somehow.

In August, both Andrew and Doug will leave us. Andrew will return to UF, Go Gators! Doug will go to live with my wonderful mother and Daddy Eddie where he can attend high school. Phillip will get his wish to be an only child for a time.

While here we have spent time with Bruce, a friend of ours from Ozona, who runs St. Croix Marine. He has been awesome and lent us his car and even his laundry machines! We went out to a nice restaurant for dinner the other night and then he took the guys fishing this morning. We were invited to a fish fry/party tonight and are looking forward to meeting some more people here. Other than that we have been doing a lot of repairs on the boat and she is looking good!

All in all, it's just another beautiful day in paradise! Cheers!

Anguilla - Crew View

2008-05-27T16:14:00.000-04:00

New Crew’s View – by Andrew

Shortly after the departure of Don and Lesley from Saint Martin, we ourselves began the day sail to the next destination. The original plan was to sail to Saba, but the wind angle was such that the sail from there to the USVI would be rough on the crew. In addition to this, the first mate and boat monkey were not at all thrilled about the idea of going to a craggy rock with no beaches. After considering these factors, the captain decided to change course to Anguilla, which has “the best all around beaches” according to the travel channel. We planned only to stay the night and then sail to either St. John or St. Croix the next day… so much for that plan. While we were anchoring in Road Bay, William, the sailing instructor from the Anguillan Sailing Association, sailed up to us on a Laser (little racing sailboat, see picture) and introduced himself.

He recognized us from Antigua where we had watched his dinghy for him or something along those lines. In any case he was a nice guy and invited us to go out sailing with him on the Lasers or the Open Bic before his sailing class arrived the following morning.

That night we went into town and saw a reggae band called Hot Shot in what would become our new favorite bar on the island: the Pumphouse, which just sounds like a place to get really good and liquored up. In fact, one of the locals did just so, and went on to another bar down the street. He neglected, however, to bring along his baby daughter, who we found wandering around the parking lot across the street from the Pumphouse at 11:00 pm. Fortunately a local Rasta recognized the baby and after assuring us that Rastafarians “take care of the babies” we left the little girl in his care. Shortly after we began walking back we heard the Rasta start ripping into the father who had come back for his daughter.

True to form, my parents decided that we would revise our schedule, if it could be called that, because of how incredibly friendly the people were to us. This is in contrast to Antigua or St. Kitts where outsiders are not well liked. So we decided to stay another week and a half, during which we rented a car and visited the local bars, resorts, grocery stores, and rum factory. Life on the boat so far is not what most would imagine; we do not spend all our days idly lazing on the beach drinking rum (just some of them).

My shoulders still ache from jerry-canning water in 8 gallon tanks. And to think I almost forgot about my favorite chore: das Schleppen! No, we work for our time in paradise. We spend a lot of time provisioning, doing home school, and keeping our home in ship-shape. This did not stop me from having some fun though… it is my summer vacation after all. When we had free time, we took William up on his offer to go sailing. We all went out and sailed on 420’s, which I race back at UF, while Mom and Dad piled onto a Laser. Mom even got to go swimming too. We also got to go sailing on a Hobe cat that had a trapeze rig, which was a blast in the constantly blowing trade winds.

Phil found a dog on the beach, a stray mutt he aptly named Gypsy.

This dog would follow us around wherever we went and would even wait for us outside of places where she couldn’t go in. One night she followed us to the Pumphouse and found a pair of honeymooners (Phil and Casey) who we then started chatting with, or rather screaming to at the top of our lungs over the music. They were really good people, so Mom and Dad invited them out for a day sail to a nearby islet, Prickly Pear Cay. I’m sure they had a great time, we all did. Dad took everyone out snorkeling while mom and I stayed on the boat, made lunch and talked. We all then proceeded to enjoy rafting in the clear and surprisingly cool water. Following lunch and the exodus of the charter boats in the anchorage, we went to the beach.

It was all very picturesque. The beach was white sand, and had two palm tree surrounded beach bars, which were closed on Mondays. The real fun began when I pointed out to Phil (our Phil) that there were coconuts on these palms. He raced back to the boat to get his knife, so as to procure coconuts for our consumption. We must have looked like cavemen: I stood under the tree with a stick and would beat and club the coconuts until they fell, while Phil climbed the tree and cut them off.

On the way back, we all enjoyed Piña Coladas and coconut meat to reward our efforts. The only problem we had was that every time dad barked an order at “young Phil”, “older Phil” would jump thinking the captain was addressing him to pull out the headsail or sheet the main.

They were kind enough to take us out to dinner that night at the Pumphouse. While we ordered, young Phil decided to harangue the waitress with a request for “one original Pumphouse 8 ounce black angus burger with lettuce, and tomato, and caramelized onions, and French fries on the side and ketchup in a smiley face on the bun”. When he did not get the ketchup smiley face, he decided to make a smiley face after dinner on his plate with what he had not eaten. She sent him a separate check, which had a big smiley face on it.

Imagine, going from an institute of higher learning to live with these savages! I don’t even have a real bed, I get a hammock instead. It works well, but rain is a definite issue when you’re sleeping without a roof. Phil decided to try using waterproof camping blankets as a makeshift cover. His seemed to work fine, and so did mine... at first. I got soaked. Water leaked through the blanket (waterproof my ass) and diffused through the cotton in my hammock, leaving me wet on my back and front. After trying to rig mine up several times during the past week and getting wet every night, I decided that I would just have to get used to showering in bed. Yesterday, Phil decided that he didn’t want that, so he rigged up a tarp that encases the hammock, somewhat like a cocoon. I woke up to the sound of rain last night, but did not get wet, not even a drop, and I slept soundly and dryly through the night at last. Tomorrow we leave for Saint Croix, which is about 90-100 miles from Anguilla, making this crossing the longest one I’ve been on this trip, Yeehah!

Captain’s View

Anguilla is a great island and has now become our favorite. We have spent over a week on the hook enjoying the island and its super friendly people. In every aspect the locals are very caring and helpful. I asked about where to rent a car and the customs officials not only told me whom to call, but also picked up the phone and placed the call on my behalf.

We met Julius, a giant of a man standing at 6 foot 11 inches and a hand shake that felt like shaking a bunch of bananas, at the Pumphouse. He pulled Sue and I on to the dance floor and bought us a round of beers to welcome us to the island. What an amazing place.

I made a reservation to have dinner on the beach for Susan and I.

When we arrived for dinner, a beautiful table was set for two, surrounded by tiki torches and fresh picked flower bouquets. It was a nice touch and rounded out a romantic sunset dinner as soft waves lapped at the beach 20 feet from our table . . . an unforgettable evening.

As I am writing this blog entry, Susan just asked me if it is Saturday today. “No, actually its Tuesday. Pretty close” I quipped, “were you early or late?” It’s great to totally loose track of time.

Aguilla is all about the sailing. Local boats that in the 1800's smuggled rum, now race and keep the tradition alive.

Antigua, St. Martin, Saba

2008-05-16T16:15:00.000-04:00

We left Falmouth Harbor and went over to Willoughby Bay. After the excitement at Falmouth Harbor it was nice to be the only boat in the huge bay. The guys went out to hunt/fish while I did a few loads of laundry. They returned with conch and we feasted on cracked conch for dinner. We all had forgotten how delicious conch is and how long it takes to clean and prepare it. We were fondly remembering the Bahamas and all of the fresh conch and fish that we caught there. During the evening it began raining and it poured until the next afternoon. This was unusual for us because it normally just rains for a short time and then the sun returns. It rained so much and so hard that the dinghy was filled with water so that Phil could take a bath in it! We collected rain water for cooking and doing dishes. My laundry got rinsed thoroughly by the rain, so much so that I had to re-spin it and rehang it. The benefit is that the boat is really clean! No salt spray anywhere.

We sailed to Jolly Harbour where our friends Ian and Tracy (S/V Loon) and Jim and Janice (S/V Sierra Hotel) were. Loon has been hauled out to be stored for hurricane season. Sierra Hotel (aka. Serious Hangover as Loon calls them or Suddenly Hammered as I call them) was anchored out with us. When we arrived we were excited to see that Sierra Hotel's dinghy was not at their boat meaning that we could finally play a practical joke on them that Loon and Adamo had cooked up the previous week in Falmouth Harbor. Phil dinghied over to Sierra Hotel and left a "ticket" or as they call them here a "fixed penalty" on their door. We basically fined them $1000 payable in 10 days for anchoring under the influence. He was raging mad and went to surrounding boats asking questions. After a couple of hours, Janice took a look at the ticket and saw the signature... Officer Gull Able and realized it was a joke. We got them good! That evening we all gathered for drinks on Sierra Hotel. Jim didn't want to fess up about how he took it hook, line and sinker. Ian couldn't contain himself so after enough drinks the truth finally came out. It was a late evening and we all paid for it the next day, hence our nick names for their boat.

On April 29th we had the Adamo hauled out at Jolly Harbor and set on the hard to have the bottom painted and get some repairs made to the wooden cap-rail. She remained there until May 5th. We continued to live on the boat while she sat in the yard. Those were long hot days and nights with little breeze. The first night on the hard, we had all the hatches open attempting to cool the boat down but the mosquitoes were fierce. By midnight we had been infested by the buzzing, blood-sucking vermin. We closed the hatches, and began hunting the little bastards. It was a bloodbath. Each time you nailed one with the fly swatter on the wall, it left a red splat. When the carnage was over, the interior of the boat looked like we had been in a pain-ball fight. The rest of that night we were almost mosquito free, but it was hot and steamy with the hatches closed. For the duration Doug nicknamed the boat the “Heat Hole”. The next evening, Phillip rigged mosquito nets on all the hatches. The strategy worked. Most of the mosquitoes stayed out while some cool air made it in.

Because the boat was on the hard, the only way of getting on and off was with a 12-foot ladder. This becomes a real pain during midnight runs to the restroom. The on-board head is inoperable when out of the water; so is the fridge, water heater, battery charger, generator etc...

The pace of the work was excruciatingly slow; definitely done on “island time”. And it’s understandable. The first thing you smell in the morning is “the sweet smell of ganja”. The workers wander around the boatyard dazed and in no hurry. The quality of the work leaves something to be desired as well. We spent our time supervising the progress and making sure we were not being gypsied. We had been warned that cans of bottom paint ($260 each) would disappear and the boat owners were getting only one coat of paint when they had paid for two coats. We watched as our cans of paint were open, mixed and applied, and pointed out spots that were missed during the application. We were determined to get a good job done, at the expense of being a pain in everyone’s ass. When the boat when back in the water we were satisfied that the job was done right.

Being back in the water was terrific. No mosquitoes and plenty of wind. Phil celebrated by catching a 50 lbs Tarpon.

Andrew is going to spend the summer with us on his college break. We had a week to kill in Antigua waiting for his arrival, so we sailed around the island to Nonesuch Bay. The bay is very calm since it is protected by a coral reef that protrudes from the ocean to block the waves. Yet, because it is located on the eastern end of the island, the trade winds blow without obstruction. It is a popular place for windsurfing and kite sailing. The boys took the opportunity to sail the Open Bic and explore the pristine beaches while Susan and I headed for Harmony Hall, an Italian restaurant/bar/art gallery located in an 18th century windmill overlooking the bay.

On the sail to Nonesuch Bay, Phil hooked a monster mahi mahi. He fought it to the boat. I was surprised his arms did not give out, but he was determined. The question was: what do you do next? There’s not a good place to put an almost 5 foot long fish that had plenty of fight left in him. We decided to gaff him and put him on the aft deck and try to subdue him with a couple of beach towels. Once on deck, he began thrashing. Phil almost got stabbed by the gaff while I got bit in the stomach (well more of a nick than a bite). Next thing we know is the fish is back in the water. Fortunately the hook was still in his mouth, so we gaffed him again and hauled him back on deck to try to subdue him a second time. This go around we tied a strap around his tail to help hold him down. We were successful. By the time the battle was over we had sailed nearly halfway to Guadeloupe! The fish fed us for 3 days. We also have concocted a new strategy for handling the next monster fish. A collapsing 40 gallon trashcan we have on board will give us a place to stuff the fish and keep him from getting back in the water.

While we were waiting for Andrew to come, the boys decided to build sail boats out of paint sticks, foam plates, fishing weights, sail scraps and other supplies they could find on board. Then they raced the boats against each other, tweaking them until they actually started working. Phil claimed to be the winner. After the races were over, they put the name of our boat and the blog site address and set them free in the Caribbean Sea, like a message in a bottle. It would be interesting to get a response and see how far they were able to sail.

When Andrew arrived we picked him up in Jolly Harbor. We spent one night in the marina catching up on laundry and cleaning the boat from the haul-out and giving the varnish a new top-coat. Being at a dock was a treat especially when we turned on the AC. In the harbor the air was still and the mosquitoes…well you know that story. Andrew arrived in the evening with flowing golden locks and a tan. He fit right in with our motley crew. In the morning we all went to the grocery store to provision. We filled two carts in hopes of being able to feed three teenagers for a couple of weeks! Then it was off to St. Barth to show him our favorite island which we have discovered so far.

We anchored outside the harbor in St. Barth. As usual it was very rolly. So after a poor night’s rest we moved into the harbor and anchored stern to the wall as is customary down here. We were constantly moving but it was not as bad as the rolling motion. Voila!

St. Barth was hopping with action this visit. There was a transatlantic sailing race due to finish the day we arrived. The racing boats were late by two days, so the partying went on without them. The water front was full of booths selling local artwork and a bandstand had been erected with live music that went on until the wee hours of the morning.

We cut our trip to St. Barth short because we wanted to make it back to St. Martin to meet up with our very good friends Don and Leslie. They were our neighbors when we first moved to Florida in 1992 and used to baby-sit for the boys when they were toddlers. Don and Leslie have been coming to St. Martin every year for 30 years!

We departed St. Barth at 10:00am on the 11th of May and began sailing North. On the way we stopped at Ils de Fourche for lunch and to explore the island with Andrew. After lunch it was back to business. We arrived at Mullet Bay at around 5pm.

When we saw waving arms on the beach and in the water we knew we had found our friends. We spent the next several days hanging out on the beach with them. Being a French and Dutch island, many of the women on the beach go topless. Needless to say, the boys enjoyed the “eye candy”, especially Phillip.

On our last day at the beach, there we unusually large swells, producing huge crashing waves on the beach. We all took turns riding the waves on inflatable rafts.

Mid week, we took a day sailing trip to Saba, a very small volcanic island about 24 miles from St. Martin.

The island is inhabited and has about 600 homes built into the volcanic mountain. Just like Nevis and St. Kitts a permanent cloud hovers over the peak of the island.

After sailing 50 miles, Don and Leslie were glad to be back on terra-firma.

May 14th was Susan and my 20th wedding anniversary and Doug’s 17th birthday. Don and Leslie were celebrating their 40th anniversary. We celebrated the special occasion with dinner at Pineapple Pete’s.

A few days later we said our good-byes and were off to Great Bay to refill on water and take on diesel. Last time we were in Great Bay, we were waiting out a blow, 35 knot winds. This time, the wind has died, so we are waiting on its return.