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?”
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.
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.
