Category: Uncategorized

Waiting for a window

After a day of recovery after Lynn and G left, we started preparing for our passage to NZ.   One of our sails needed a few repairs, the rig needed to be checked, lines replaced and the boat generally prepared for this long anticipated and, slightly feared, final sail home.  

We talked to our weather router and established a possible departure at the end of the week, five days away.   We decided to head to Musket Cove, a small island close by with a popular anchorage for yachties, so we could clean underneath the boat and enjoy some down time before the long sail.  

Musket Cove on Malolo Island, is only 15nm sail from Denerau, and has a number of resorts, serviced by regular ferries and tourist boats.   The large bay has two reefs in the centre which divide the area into three distinctive anchorage areas.   In front of the resorts is a busy channel servicing most of the ferries and pleasure activities for the resort guests.  A couple of mooring buoys give easy access to the beach and resort facilities, which are normally open for yachties to use.   The centre area offers a large anchorage with a short dinghy ride to a good dinghy dock and a popular yachties bar.  The third area is a quiet, secluded anchorage close to the big island of Malolo.   We chose the centre anchorage as we were, once again, using our small outboard on our dinghy as our bigger, main engine had been out of action since Tonga and we had been unable to get the necessary spare part.  

One afternoon I smelt burning while in the boat.  It is not unusual, in fact very common, to see fires on the shore and plumes of smoke hanging over the anchorages is a regular event.  This smelt like burning plastic and we frantically went around the boat checking wiring ana d cables to make sure it was not a fault on board.  Steve went outside and reported it was stronger outside so we assumed the smell was coming from some unseen fire on land.  Later I noticed something, I thought bird poo, on one of our solar panels and on investigation found that one of the cells had melted.   We immediately disconnected the panel and considered ourselves very lucky that the outcome was not alot worse.   

We socialized with other cruisers at a beach bar near the dinghy dock.  Being aware little bity things come out in the evening I went hunting for some of my preferred repellent and, while gabbing a tool for Steve, discovered a bottle in his tool cupboard.  Thinking it must have been put in there by mistake, I liberally sprayed myself with the repellent and headed out.   It was only later that I discovered Steve had re-purposed the bottle and I had sprayed myself with a lubricating oil (not THAT kind…) used to service winches, not wenches!   It seemed to keep the bugs away, but our bed sheets may never recover!

We spent a few days, joining a large group of other cruisers, watching the rugby world cup games and cleaning the bottom of the boat while keeping a watchful eye on the weather.   Our weather router advised us there was a possible window developing in a couple of days, so we returned to Denerau to provision and make an appointment with customs to check out on the Friday morning.   We decided to treat ourselves to a meal out on our last night in Fiji and checked the weather while waiting for our meals to arrive.   While the weather looked good for most of the passage, the forecast for our predicted arrival day in NZ looked awful, with the tailwinds from cyclone Lola, an early cyclone expected to hit Vanuatu, mixing with a depression over NZ and causing terrible conditions on our arrival.   What was most worrying was the different weather models were agreeing on this forecast and we suddenly became very uneasy about leaving Fiji the next day.   We contacted our friends on SV Diva whom we were buddy sailing to NZ with, and together agreed it looked foreboding.   In the morning we contacted our weather router who responded quickly telling all boats considering leaving later that day to cancel departure and wait for the next window.   I was relieved as the weather on arrival in NZ was my biggest concern and with a forecast this bad, I did not want to risk the boat, or our lives purely because we were eager to start the passage.   While the final decision to leave is always ours, we pay for professional advice so have to put a great deal of faith in their more experienced knowledge of the weather. 

We returned to Musket Cove to watch the rugby world cup final and continued to monitor the weather from there.   As it transpired, the decision to wait was the right one as extremely strong wind battered the north of NZ for two days and we would have been caught in the middle of it all.   It was awful watching the progress of a few boats who had decided to continue with their planned departure and were left to face 50knot winds and huge seas as they struggled off the coast of NZ with one boat, who we didn’t know, having to be abandoned with the solo skipper rescued in horrendous conditions.  

While waiting for the next opportunity to depart, we explored a few other islands in the Yasawa’s as well as snorkeling a few of the reefs.   The clarity of the water was superb, and we had not seen coral as good or healthy, since Bonaire.   The reefs were full of fish, and we saw Eagle rays, turtles, squid and lots of colourful fish.   One morning we left Mama Island early and anchored on the NE side of a tiny sand bar called Nukuimana Reef.    We had the place to ourselves and enjoyed a few hours of snorkeling the beautiful coral in crystal clear water before several tourist boats arrived mid-morning so we pulled anchor and headed to a quiet anchorage on the north of Malolo where we were once again the only boat and were able to continue cleaning our hull.

Another departure window was opening, so we headed back to the mainland, this time returning to Saweni where, unlike the previous time we had anchored here, we were the only boat when we arrived in the early afternoon.   We lost no time heading ashore and walked along the railway line towards the port town of Latoka.  Here, we made use of the excellent supermarkets and fresh fruit and veg market and stocked up on everything we would need for the next few weeks, intending to do one more fresh shop the day of our departure.  

The next day we awoke to a beautiful, windless morning in the bay and once again returned to the beach, this time following the rail track in the other direction, towards Vuda, where there is a big marina and several friends we wanted to catch up with.   One particular boat of friends was DanceMe a Belgium boat we had crossed the Atlantic and Pacific with and caught up with in Colombia, Panama and Marquesas.   They were on their way from Niue to Tonga when they were dismasted and they had to cut away not only the mast but all their sails and, with enormous damage on the boat, motored the remaining 300nm to Tonga.   In Tonga they were helped to build a jury rig (makeshift mast and rigging) and were donated sails and other essential items by fellow cruisers.  They then sailed 500nm to Fiji – the closest place where replacements and repairs could be organized – maintaining a speed of around 3.5knots a day.  Hans and Lisbeth are the most positive people you can meet and it was lovely to see them again and have the opportunity to see the temporary rig.  Losing your mast is any sailors worst nightmare and often ends with abandoning ship, so to hear the story of what happened in the first few minutes after the dismasting was interesting from a learning perspective and based on what they told us, we went out and bought a thicker blade for our grinder, just in case! 

Fiji has one of the strictest checking in/out procedures we have encountered and, once the paperwork is completed, insist you immediately return to your boat and leave the country.   The weather was still looking ok for a departure on Saturday, although a Monday departure did currently look more favourable, but with past experience telling us that, with Monday a few days away, all that could change and we now had appointments we needed to keep in NZ, we left Denerau in beautiful sunshine one Saturday morning to commence our last passage home.   This one is not the longest passage but would be the one that pushes us and Cerulean to our limits and the one we had feared the most.

High Society

We left Fakarava and headed to another atoll, Faaite, 15nm to the south with our NZ friends on Te Kinga.   There was no wind and the sea was flat calm as we motor sailed towards the low lying atoll, entering the narrow pass on slack tide.   Numerous small fishing boats created a slalom course for us as we approached the entrance, forcing us to slow down and admire the crystal clear water as we glided over healthy looking coral close to the land.   We negotiated the entrance, meandering round boomies into an anchorage close to the small main town of Hitianau, except it really wasn’t an anchorage due to the shallow patches and boomies everywhere not giving us enough room to swing a cat, let alone a 43ft boat!   Together with Te Kinga we circled around the bay numerous times, trying to find a clear patch of sand, big enough to drop our anchor and for us to circle around it without hitting anything under the water.   Eventually we found a patch we hoped we suffice, dropped the anchor and floated all our chain so only 10m was on the bottom, the remaining 30m was floated using our fenders but fortunately no wind was forecast so we felt confident we would be fine.  

The settlement of Hitianau has a checkered and interesting recent history.  In 1987 a cult moved on to the atoll with the religious leader convincing locals that the devil was amongst them, resulting in six deaths when members of the community were burned alive by being thrown into a fire.    The next time the atoll was thrown into the spotlight was a few years later when a yacht ladened with cocaine ran aground on the reef.   Police were informed when a fire started on board and over half a ton of drugs were discovered, believing that more had been lost in the fire.   In a scenario similar to Whiskey Galore, it was later discovered that locals had raided the boat and hidden the drugs.   It only became apparent when the Mayor noticed a number of locals acting strangely and called in the police from Tahiti to investigate, resulting in the discovery that a number of the 250 residents were addicted to cocaine. 

Walking around the sleepy town today, it is hard to imagine its colourful past.  People mostly use tricycles as their main mode of transport, everyone smiles and greets you in passing, neat houses line the dusty roads and fishermen take their small boats out to catch just enough fish for the locals to eat.   On the day we arrived the supply ship was in, so we joined a small line of locals on the dock and bought fresh fruit and vegetables from the boxes displayed by the ships crew.   We even bought fresh eggs which was a bonus as we were fast learning to buy them whenever we saw them!   We ordered fresh baguettes to collect the next day and were invited into a local home by a father and son who proudly showed us around there waterfront property.   In exchange, we gave them the fishing line we had collected when crossing the Pacific and were very happy it was going to good use!

The weather forecast showed some significant wind and building seas were coming, so we decided to leave with Te Kinga and head back to Fakarava for a few nights.  We had originally intended to stay another night and leave for Tahiti from Faaite but with seas building it meant the pass could become treacherous.   As it was, we left with the outgoing tide and were swept through the pass at speed, waving to the fishermen at the entrance as we were carried past them.   On the passage back Te Kinga caught a couple of tuna which they generously shared with us, donating a large steak which fed us for four meals!

Tahiti was calling us, so we reluctantly left The Tuamotu’s ahead of a front bringing strong winds and enjoyed a 36hr passage, arriving in Tahiti mid morning.   My son, Jak and his wife Juliette, were due to arrive in a few days, so after doing laundry, a big shop at Carrefour and mandatory clean, tidy and sort of the boat, we moved into Papeete Marina.  The marina operates on a first-in-first-served basis so securing a berth feels like winning lottery, particularly when you listen to others hard-luck stories and pleas for a space.   We were lucky as our friends on Freya were leaving and we arranged a smooth exchange which, even though we did this with military co-ordination, another boat waiting in the wings almost tried to swoop into the berth ahead of us!  

The marina is located in the centre of the biggest city in The Society Islands so getting fresh produce, doing laundry and preparing for Jak and Ju’s arrival was easy.  While we waited I was invited by our friends on Cygnus Cygnus to attend Heiva, an annual festival of Polynesian Culture and we enjoyed a night of traditional dance and music with mesmorising drumming, fast knee knocking by the men and impressive bottom wiggling by the women.  

While in Papeete we caught up with lots of friends.  On one occasion we were meeting an Aussie/Irish contingent for lunch in a restaurant and were hidden away upstairs catching up on a couple of months news.   On coming up for air, we noticed that a group of other friends were sitting at another table having lunch and we called them over.   You know when you are with fellow cruisers when one of the friends walks over is carrying a bucket and, on noticing this, one of the Irish/Aussies says, “That’s a really nice bucket…”!   I wonder what we will consider important in the real world!

Jak and Ju’s much anticipated arrival happened at 5am one morning, just as it was starting to get light, and I ran into their warm embraces with huge excitement much to the amusement of the marina security guard who was alerted by my squeals of delight!   As we were having breakfast on deck a friendly turtle popped up beside the boat followed by a pod of dolphins that joined in the celebrations as we were leaving the harbour later that day!    A great start to their visit with levels of excitement high which would continue for the duration of their two weeks stay with us.    Together we explored Moorea where we swam with sharks and stingrays, went on long dinghy rides, explored some of the inland region, snorkeled in clear waters and introduced Jak and Ju to some of our friends.   We did an overnight sail to Huahine in conditions that were far from the perfect seastate I was hoping for with Ju, always cheerful and positive, incapacitated with seasickness, only emerging from her uncomfortable looking cocoon curled up on the saloon seating, once we were safely in the blue protected waters behind the island.    We hired bikes and circumnavigated Huahine, pushing the old one-speed bikes up the one steep hill on the island – Jak breaking his bike as he tried to pedal up the sharpest incline!   We watched blue-eyed eels as they stared back at us in a shallow river, were mesmorised by brightly coloured fish from a dock and marvelled at the shades of blue in the bay.   We sailed down to the most southerly bay and watched an octopus change colour to match the coral around it, spending a very windy night on a mooring buoy which we had raced to pick up ahead of another boat I was convinced would try to beat us to it, only to discover they had picked up a much better mooring further inland!  

On we sailed to Taha’a, inside a large reef it shared with its neighbour, Raiatea.   We enjoyed sundowners watching beautiful sunsets over nearby Bora Bora, drift snorkelled the Coral Garden, tasted local rum at the nearby distillery, listened to a local band play with local women joining in the dancing, visited a pearl farm and a vanilla plantation with processing plant, celebrated Bastille Day by visiting a festival in a small village, played games and laughed together.   Finally, we sailed to Bora Bora – a place I had wanted to visit since the early 1980’s when I watched a TV show called Tales of the Gold Monkey set, apparently in Bora Bora and I was mesmorised by its beautiful scenery and handsome lead!   When researching for this blog I discovered it was actually set in Bora Gora – wherever that is – and I must’ve been hearing the place wrong!!!  Well, it made me look up Bora Bora, stick a pin in my imaginary map of the globe and dream of the exotic location!   Now we were sailing there, and I couldn’t have been more excited.   As we rounded the south westerly corner of the reef, Bora Bora presented itself in all its beauty and travel brochure glory!   The emerald blue waters set against a dramatic crater rim of an extinct tall volcano was breathtaking.  

We met up with Tomas and Corine who guided us through narrow channels to a stunning anchorage in Baie Tehou.    We took the dinghies towards the reef and stood chest deep in water as numerous black tipped sharks and huge stingrays circled around us.   In the evening we had sharks around our boat and we swam in the clear warm waters, soaking up the extraordinary sights and experiences of this truly magical island.   Tomas’s friend, Corine, was leaving the next day so the six of us went into Vaitape, the main town, to explore and have lunch.   There is very little in the town, which shows that even with the many luxury resorts on the island, very little of that money spills over into the local economy – yes, there are jobs for the locals, but most of those are menial with the majority of the well paid jobs going to French or other nationalities.  

Having said that, The Societies have not been spoiled by large, ugly hotels.  Most of the buildings we saw were single, or at most, two storied buildings which were built to fit in with the landscape although did restrict access to some beautiful parts of the lagoon.   It is not possible to fully circumnavigate the island as the far south is not navigable, so we meandered our way to around the island and stayed in the south east corner, visiting a French Canadian who had established a Coconut Factory.   It was really just a small shack where he lived with his local wife and two gorgeous young children and operated a press to extract oil from coconuts grown on Bora Bora.   He added essence of other plants to the oil to make medicinal cures for burns, bites and increase energy levels.   His property stretched the width of the motu from blue lagoon to the battered windward side and he allowed us to explore, walking through his tendered garden and tall trees to the thunderous waves on the Pacific side.   We collected shells, watched crabs, waded in a huge rock pool where sharks hunted the trapped fish and coral broke the surface of the water.   

All too soon we were preparing for Jak and Ju to leave us.   It had been a wonderful, memorable and fun time together, laughing, exploring, playing games, doing quizzes, talking and sailing.  We needed to get fuel so suggested we drop them at the fuel dock for an easy walk into Vaitape where they could catch a free ferry to the airport – the only way to access the airport is by water.    Our attempts to get fuel turned into an unhappy series of events as the cashiers would only allow us to use our tax free certificate if we provided copies of the certificate, boat papers and entry permits.  They didn’t have a photocopier, would not accept electronic copies and didn’t know of anywhere who would copy them, so we left without filling our tanks!   That’ll show them!   It was not the final goodbye I had pictured for Jak and Ju but at least they were able to have an unfiltered insight into the trials and tribulations of cruising life!   

We waved to Jak and Ju as we motored away from the dock and headed out the pass, back into the rolly, unprotected waters of the Pacific Ocean.   We were headed for Raiatea as we had an appointment with a tradesman who could try and discover what was wrong with our steering as I was very concerned about a grating sound that occasionally caused the wheel to jerk.   We had unsuccessfully and frustratingly been trying to find the source to no avail and now needed to urgently have the steering assessed to see if it was safe to continue to New Zealand.    So a few days later we had a shipwright named Fred scratching his head too, trying to find the source of the problem, resulting in us getting hauled out the next day to check the integrity of our rudder.   We only just fit in the slipway where three men dived into the clear water and positioned slings under Cerulean.   As we were lifted we were pleasantly surprised by how clean Ceruleans bottom was – Steve had done a great job keeping the growth off and while we could we scraped barnacles and weed off the harder to reach places, cleaned the propeller and shaft and checked the anodes – all looking good!   The rudder was jiggled and wiggled hard, resulting in the noise becoming apparent, thankfully not from the rudder but, after a thorough check, found the offender to be our autohelm!   We were happy to have found the culprit – an easy fix – and hugely relieved there was nothing wrong with our steering, in fact the opposite as it was given a big thumbs up as being in perfect condition!     Our time in French Polynesia was coming to an end.   We were given 90 days in the country when we arrived in The Marquesas and were told the only way to stay longer was to apply for a longstay visa prior to arriving in French Polynesia.   As it turns out, getting an extension is easier than we believed, all you have to do is tell the Gendarmerie you have a problem with your boat and it will take a couple of months for the parts to arrive – bingo!    Although we had all the supporting proof that we had an issue with the boat, we decided we would not ask for an extension as time was ticking and there were still lots of other exotic islands to visit.  

We filled with fuel, reprovisioned and started the long process of checking out.   French Polynesia has a quite antiquated check in/out procedure.  We were told that, after checking in at The Marquesas, we had to complete the process once we arrived in Tahiti, which we duly did and were emailed a form as proof of this.   We were then advised we needed to seek permission if we were leaving Tahiti/Moorea to go to the outer islands and intended checking out of those islands, which we also did and were sent confirmation back.    We stayed the night in Raiatea’s main town of Uturoa on the town dock in the town centre, ignoring the advice we were given on arrival that we had to leave by 4.30pm, as we had been told we were allowed to spend one night there for free.   On Saturday morning we headed to the gendarmerie, completed numerous forms and were asked to return on Tuesday to collect our zarpe – no one asked for the other forms we had been given in Papeete. 

We decided to spend a few days exploring Raiatea and headed towards The Botanical Gardens which are located down a meandering river edged with palm trees.   After walking through the gardens we crossed to the other side of the river and met Andre, a local man who has been creating a large fruit and vegetable garden on land he leases at a peppercorn rent from the government for the last 35 years.   He has created a fabulous food basket, offering his hard won bounty to anyone who shows an interest in his garden.   We came away with bananas, beans, ginger, turmeric, pumpkin and plenty of exotic fruit which Andre encouraged us to try.   We gave him a donation which he accepted with a smile but he often feeds people who are unable to give money.

We received an email on Monday telling us our exit papers were ready so on Tuesday we returned to the town dock and completed our check out with the gendarmerie.   It was quick and easy with them stamping our passports and presenting us with our zarpe.   We were now officially checked out of French Polynesia and ready to sail west for the next leg of our journey back to New Zealand. We had been lucky enough to spend three months exploring French Polynesia. Every place we visited had its own special feel and memorable moments. To share these places with friends and family made them all the more incredible and as we sailed away from The Society Islands, we felt a mixture of sadness and excitement. Sadness as we would have loved to have spent more time in these beautiful (but expensive) islands, but excitement at the adventures that still lay ahead of us.

Costa Rica – Adventure, Wildlife and Beauty

One of the things I love about sailing is there is plenty of time to think.   I like to sit quietly and just let my mind wander and often find myself picking things apart and trying to understand behaviour patterns and thought processes.   Friendship was one of those subjects I found myself delving into and, in particular, looking at relationships made while cruising.   I have come to realise that landbased, longterm friendships are quite different to those made while cruising.   If we had not undertaken this adventure I would be mixing with the fantastic group of people I have been lucky to call friends for many years and would not necessarily seek, or have a need, to increase that circle.   I did not spend enough time with the friends I already had, so why go out and get more, so making friends as you get older, is harder.   When living this transient life, you do the complete opposite – we make an effort to meet new people and get to know them, even for a short time and, as everyone is in the same situation, new friendships come easily and readily.   It is very special when you meet people that share similar beliefs, interests and sense of humour as you, so shared experiences are enhanced and appreciated all the more.   Iain and Fi are our match – they’re probably more experienced, more clever and more knowledgeable than us, but they put up with us tagging along on the many adventures we have shared together!   When they suggested joining us on a trip to Costa Rica we answered enthusiastically, pleased to have great company to explore a new country with, particularly as Iain is very good at finding hidden treasures off the beaten path.

We had booked space at Carenero Marina so we could leave our boats, and negotiated the narrow, shallow entrance just before high tide, squeezing into a berth that was only just wide enough for us.   The marina could accommodate about 30 boats and most of the yachts there appeared to have made the marina their home, some never to move again!   Surrounding the marina were houses built on stilts over the water and every day children jumped off the small jetty infront of their home and played in the water.   Several hammocks were strewn across a large room with a small cooking area at the back, providing all the space they needed.  

Early next morning we caught a water taxi the short distance to Bocas, the main town in the region.   From there we caught another boat and a bus to take us to the border town of Sixaola.   A bridge separates Panama from Costa Rica so after presenting our passports on the Panama side, we walked across the wide bridge to enter Costa Rica.   The wide concrete bridge felt a little like we were doing a prisoner exchange as we passed people trailing their luggage along the narrow pavement, coming in the opposite direction, heads down as they focused on their feet and walked across the bridge.  

Our passports were stamped and we were given a 90 day visa to explore Costa Rica, a perfect way to reset our Panama visas and enjoy the delights of a new country.   We were shepherded onto another minibus and sped through the countryside, arriving in Puerto Veijo 40 minutes later.   Puerto Veijo had black sand beaches on the Caribbean coast and, like most of Costa Rica, is bordered by jungle and we were told was the best place to see sloths in the wild, something which evaded us!  

Today Costa Rica is famous for its forests, incredible wildlife and plethora of National Parks but, as we learned, things were quite different a short time ago.   In the 1940’s corrupt banks encouraged land to be cleared of forest before farmers could borrow money and then forced these same farmers off their land with high interest rates.  They then sold the land to friends, relations or people with influence, establishing large banana plantations.   Fortunately a newly elected government in 1996 recognised what was happening as half the country’s forest cover had been destroyed, and immediately made it illegal to clear land and encouraged the rejuvenation of the forest.   Today almost 60% of the country is once again forest and the local people, known as Chico’s, appear proud of their country with noticeably less rubbish and a keen interest in their environment.

Puerto Viejo is a small coastal town which is popular with backpackers.  It has that lovely sleepy, budget feel to it with several cafes and a variety of tourist shops but still holding on to its own identity.   We went for walks in the forest close to our accommodation, intrepidly following Iain who had managed to find hidden waterfalls, tracks and jungle walks that even locals were not aware of!   Toucans, macaws and oropendola flew noisily above us and we enjoyed identifying birds as they sang or flew into the thick trees.

We caught a bus to San Jose, the capital of Costa Rica, choosing to sit on what turned out to be the wrong side of the bus, as the seats on the right side had much less leg room than the spacious left side.   We didn’t notice until we slid into the seat and found we didn’t fit, but it was already too late as all the seats across the aisle were already filled.   We squeezed ourselves into the space, pulling our knees towards our chest as we made our way through the countryside.   We arrived at the bus station in San Jose 5hrs later and unfolded ourselves from the seats before being exposed to the bustling capital.    Our apartment was a couple of kms from the bus station and we elected to walk as we needed to stretch our aching limbs after the cramped bus ride.   This involved walking through a busy, rough and (I was the only one who thought this) scary neighbourhood where, at one point Fi and I decided to follow the faster Steve, by crossing an intersection without being able to see the traffic lights.   All of a sudden we were being yelled at by two heavily armed policemen on a motorbike which was heading straight for us!  

We only had one day in the city to explore, so lost no time, dropping our bags in our Air BnB and getting back out to catch the last of the afternoon sunshine, following a list of POI’s (Points of Interest) Iain had researched and marked on the city map.   The city reminded me a little of Dakar in Senegal – some interesting parts but mostly a place that has grown without plans or thought and was now a large sprawl with few interesting buildings and some unusual statues and monuments scattered around!   I may be being unfair as we were only there for a day!  

On the way back to the apartment we were accosted by a young guy who offered to cut Steve’s hair.   As he had not had a good haircut for some time, Steve was willingly led into the barbers shop while we continued back to the accommodation.   Two hours later I was getting concerned until eventually a shorn, but tidy, Steve returned regaling stories of all the illicit things the barber had offered him in addition to the haircut!    

We picked up a hire car and left the city behind, heading to the Pacific coast where we stayed in a rustic retreat (with fabulous outdoor shower) in the hills high above the small, but busy town of Jaco and close to a surfers black sand beach.   Along the way we crossed Crocodile Bridge where, peering over the side, numerous large crocodiles basked on a muddy bank.

We spent a week walking to waterfalls which Iain had once again masterly discovered, walking deep into the countryside, meeting horse riding cowboys and inquisitive motorbike riding locals.  Everyone welcomed us with a warm smile and stilted conversation as we tried to understand their Spanish with our limited abilities.   One morning we arranged to meet Randal, a local bird expert, in a nearby National Park and were treated to numerous sightings of exotic and colourful birds as Randal mimicked their song and drew them closer to us.   He taught us how to identify birds and where to look for them, encouraging us to train our eyes so we could notice more creatures around us.   The next day we were fortunate enough to see a Roseate Spoonbill wading in shallow water as it swept side to side, and watched as it flew off, displaying its beautiful pink wings – a stunning bird.

We were returning from a tiring but wonderful walk in the late afternoon, Iain driving slowly down a narrow road through forest, when an animal ran out in front of us.  Iain stopped, as did the animal, turning to look at us as it reached the other side of the road.   Quickly Iain grabbed a camera as we all watched, speechless as the small wild cat froze on the grass verge before disappearing into the forest.   We identified it by its markings as either a young jaguar or an ocelot and have had many experts confirm this to us, although unsure which one we had seen but all agreeing how lucky we were as so few people are privileged enough to see them in the wild.  

We loved our time in Costa Rica, the incredible birdlife, the beautiful waterfalls, rich wildlife, lush forests, long empty beaches, clean environment and great adventures with team Ruffian.   Some of the not so great things – we saw more intensive farming than we’ve seen anywhere else outside Europe, primarily pineapples, bananas and palm oil.  The palm oil companies encourage banana farmers to diversity by giving low interest loans and free seedlings while tying them in to long contracts, but then pay them less than they would get selling their crop elsewhere.  The banana crops are wrapped in large plastic bags which are filled with toxic chemicals, chemicals which are banned in most western countries.   Pineapple crops are sprayed with harmful chemicals and the spray drift is not controlled so rivers are becoming polluted and people getting sick.   We avoided a number of the more popular National Parks, primarily because they have become so overcrowded we believed it would feel like we were visiting a zoo, but once you get off the well beaten tourist paths, there is still a beautiful country to discover.

Our lasting memories of our time here was spending it with good friends, Iain and Fi, exploring new places together and creating a lifetime of memories.

Photo credit of wild cat: Iain and Fi, Ruffian of Amble

San Blas – Where time forgot

Our return to Santa Marta from our trip to the Amazon, marked the beginning of the end of our month in Colombia.   We were now on weather watch, waiting for a good window for the 2.5 day passage to Panama and it didn’t look like we would have to wait too long.  

We needed to stock up on provisions as we knew it would be a number of weeks before we were going to be anywhere near shops, as we were heading to some very remote places with no roads, airplanes or ports close by.    We made several trips to the supermarket and stocked up on all the essentials and then went back for more to fill any spare cupboards or storage spaces!   We bought fruit and vegetables which would last at least a week as these would become luxury items in the weeks to come! 

A few boats we knew arrived in Santa Marta just as we were preparing to go, so we spent our final couple of evenings socialising before checking out of Colombia on one of the last days of November 2022.   We had waved goodbye to Zen Again earlier that day as, being a little smaller and slower in the forecast conditions than us, they felt they wanted to leave by mid-day to ensure they arrived in Panama by Friday morning.   We decided to wait until 10pm to leave and slipped out with our fuel tanks filled to the brim with the cheapest fuel we’ll get, probably ever again!  

The wind was steady and we made excellent speed, breaking our best 24hr distance covered record by making 161NM.  In fact we were going too fast and decided to try to slow down.  We calculated we would not be able to reach landfall before sunset on Thursday and did not want to arrive in Puerto Obaldi at night time as we had heard the anchorage was quite rolly and uncomfortable.   Our decision to go to Puerto Obaldi was made due to the cheaper check-in options plus starting our exploration of the San Blas region of Panama from here, right on the border with Colombia, meant we had access to some of the most remote Guna Indian villages which was a real drawcard for us.  

Zen Again managed to arrive just as the light was fading on Thursday evening, but we were a few miles behind and decided to stand off the coast and heave-to for seven hours as we waited for daylight before heading into the exposed harbour.   (Heaving-to is a method of stopping the boat while having sails up to keep the boat in a comfortable, balanced position).  As it turned out, I’m glad we made this decision as we both managed to get a solid three hours of good sleep before we re-set the sails and headed into the harbour just as Avanti, another boat who left Santa Marta after us, arrived.  

Checking-in was a long, hot procedure and involved a visit to the police in a concrete bunker looking building with no windows or doors but a desk under a hole in the wall, where they inspected our passports.   Next, we needed to visit the immigration office where a queue had started outside the closed door.   Every so often someone would come out of the office, look at the line of people and go back in, shutting the door behind them.   We had just gotten to the front of the queue when, after about a wait of 45 minutes in the hot sun, the immigration officer appeared and apologised profusely for the delay, but now he had to go to the airport and would be back in 30 minutes.   I think he could tell we were crest-fallen, because 10 minutes later he was back and said he would process us quickly, which he did!   From there we went to the Port Captain to get a cruising permit.  He had no computer or typewriter and carefully completed about seven forms in neat handwriting, all designed for a dot matrix printer with perforated strips down the side of the carboned paper and all asking for the same information.   Quite what happened to the forms or the copies after we left, I have no idea!   After paying US$200 for a one year cruising permit for the whole of Panama – Caribbean and Pacific coasts – we were told to go to the copyshop as we needed to give the police a copy of our permit.   Back at the copyshop we were then charged US$10 for anchoring in the bay while we checked in!    Armed with all our papers we returned to the police and gave them copies of everything which they carefully examined, added our names to a large, thick notebook, smiled and told us we were free to go!     And go we did.   As soon as we were back on the boat, we sailed out of the bay to find a more protected anchorage so we could enjoy a good night’s sleep!

Panama is a beautiful country which many cruisers skip through on their way to the canal.  This is a huge mistake as there are hundreds of unspoilt bays and villages untouched by time that are begging to be explored.   Using the only accurate charts made of this area from a cruising guide we exchanged for guides we no longer required when in Grenada, we headed up the coast following the hillsides covered in virgin rainforest.   We anchored near the end of an inlet at Puerto Escoses close to a group of huts that had been built over the water just off the sandy beach.   All the huts were empty, but some were still being built and we could see dug out canoes close by so assumed the huts were still being used but just not when we were there!    It was deliciously peaceful with only the sounds of the forest to disturb the peace as we headed to bed and slept for nine solid hours!

The Guna people are indigenous to Panama.   They are fiercely protective of their culture and have tried to prevent western influence in their lives.   They live in small communities which often don’t mix with other Guna communities, and the women wear colourful clothing with intricately embroidered designs on the front and back, called Molas.   They live very simple lives – the men fish in small wooden dug out canoes or tend their coconut plantations, the women look after the family and prepare the meals.   They have large families and, as we witnessed, due to the desire to keep the village tribes “pure” there appeared to be a lot of close family couplings, as we saw a number of birth defects in the young.    The houses are very simple, often one storied with a thatched roof and built on land very close to the sea.   Extended families live together so houses are made larger as the family grows or daughters marry – daughters remain in the houses of their parents and new husbands move into their family home.  Walking though the villages made me feel like we were in a place that time forgot.   Fortunately the Panama government has not quite forgotten them and a few years ago paid for solar panels to be installed in most Guna communities.  This has made a huge difference to the villages who are very proud of the energy these panels produce.

Each village has a Congress House and villages (men and women) must attend meetings there every day.  This is the place to sort out problems, concerns, plans or celebrations in the village.  The chief or Sahila, will oversee proceedings from a hammock in the centre of the large thatched building. The meetings can be long and tedious as they cover every day matters and issues from disagreements to travel passes, so members of the community are employed to let out loud shrieks at regular intervals, or prod people with long sticks to ensure everyone stays awake and alert!   

The previous night we had heard several bangs that sounded like gunshots and cheering from the beach near our boat.   It transpired that a large cat (we were told a Jaguar) had swam across to the island, passing our boat and making its way to the beach, when it was shot and killed – not to protect humans but to protect their farm animals.   I was very sad to see pictures of the beautiful animal the next day and relieved to learn it was a very rare happening.   

It surprised us that we saw no chickens in the villages – a common sight in Colombia and everywhere else we have visited.  Pigs often seen in small bamboo huts on stilts above the water.   This is for two reasons – the first to keep them clean as their droppings fall straight into the water, but the second is to avoid crocodiles taking them.   This is also the reason there are no chickens as they will encourage crocodiles into the village.

We motor sailed a short distance to the settlement of Ustupu, the largest village in San Blas.   We spent a happy few hours getting lost in the labyrinth of small streets and passages that wind between the thatched houses, enjoying walking without fear of a vehicle speeding down the road, with the only engine noises being generators to service the many restaurants in the village!    A woman appeared at an open window and beckoned us inside the small square building.   She was sewing beautiful Molas on an antique Singer sewing machine and had several on display.  I couldn’t resist and bought a brightly coloured one from her for $10, which I will treasure.   As we continued through a small, dusty square, a man and his son called us over and they proceeded to play a beautiful tune on their roughly made blow pipes, telling us there would be dancing in the square later.   We walked on to the northern coastline where waves break on sharp rocks that were covered in litter.   I tried to explain to the young boys who were playing football close by and had come over to see who these strange white giants were, how seeing all that rubbish made me sad, but they looked at me as if I had just confirmed I really was from another planet!

As the only boat anchored in the shallow dirty bay, we became a local attraction as men and young boys slowly paddled past us, shouting their greetings and waving as they grinned at us with friendly curiosity.   We purchased a few lobsters from a man who approached us in his dugout canoe, clinging onto the side of Cerulean as he showed us his catch.  One of them tried to make a break for it and I was almost tempted to let it go back into the water, as they were all quite small, but the thought of fresh lobster for dinner prevented me from doing so!   That night, under a full moon and clear skies, we ate like kings and listened to the merriment ashore.

We discovered it was Mother’s Day and, on taking the dinghy up a small river in the north of the bay, saw a large gathering on the bank, near a small coconut and banana plantation in a clearing in the jungle.   The women enthusiastically waved us to come over and, as we scrambled up the steep muddy bank to join them, they thrust a bowl of food in our hands.   The women were all dressed in red with beautiful Molas on the front and back of their robes, red beads around their legs, red headscarf and red rouge on their cheeks.  They cooked in a huge pan over an open fire as the men and with children sat around watching them.   Through google translate, we were able to communicate with the husband of one of the women cooking.  I asked why the women were working on their special day and he answered, “They love to work.  If they don’t, they die!”    It then turned out we were actually in a graveyard, surrounded by their mothers and ancestors as we celebrated and remembered them.   Youngs guys were renovating an old tomb, fixing fresh leaves onto the thatched roof.   It was incredibly special to share that time with the happy group of different generations of brightly dressed women and we returned down the river, following a trail of red petals that were floating downstream in memory of all their mothers that had passed.

As we moved further west along the mainland Panama coast, we past a number of villages, all built perilously close to the pounding surf and often every square inch of the small island taken up with houses.   Occasionally we saw evidence of where there was once land and now the sea was washing away a construction that had stood there – bridges to nowhere stood as memorials of days recently gone by and the remains of a dock now stood attached to nothing but the sea floor.   As these scenes unfolded, I couldn’t help but ponder on the overwhelming sadness and irony of the situation – here were a peaceful race of people who have shunned Western influence and tradition, yet they are now at the sharp end of having to deal with the very real issue of rising sea levels while plastic washes ashore on their beaches, carried there by the strong currents from Colombia and further afield. 

The Mighty Amazon

Our flight from Cartagena to Bogota was very short.  The stewards only just had enough time to deliver each passenger a water before it was time to land in the capital of Colombia.   The city seemed to sprawl out for miles as we circled above on our approach.   Once landed we then had a short wait for our connecting flight to Leticia, the southern most city in Colombia, bordering Brazil and Peru, and our entrance point to the Amazon. 

I was fortunate enough to be able to have a window seat as we flew over the rainforest with views of a meandering river below us and the borderless lines that blur where Colombia finishes and Brazil starts.   I was so excited I thought I would burst as I tried to drink in the view that lay beneath us.

We were met at the airport by Sergio, the owner of Amazonas Jungle Tours who we had booked a three day adventure with.  After paying a small visitor tax, we were welcomed to Leticia and guided to two tuk-tuks which sped us into town along rutted roads.   Once again we were amazed at the driving abilities of road users as tuk-tuks and scooters jostled for position and unmarked crossroads seemed to follow a “who-dares-wins” road code.   We splashed through puddles in the potholes, bounced over ruts and swerved to overtake those travelling too slow, sometimes choosing to use the wrong side of a dual carriageway, which on-coming vehicles seemed to take in their stride.  I was mesmorised and felt slightly ill when I locked eyes with a young baby – less than 6 months old – being held by its young mother as they were both sped down the road on a scooter while our driver tailgated them at speed.   

Once checked into our cheap but adequate accommodation, we took a tuk-tuk into town and had an early dinner where Steve – always food adventurous – tried the Mojojoy platter – a local speciality of tree grub, like Huhu grubs in NZ.   I was disgusted but proud of him!!!  After our dinner we walked to the main square and climbed the church spire to watch flocks of parrots coming in to roost at dusk.   The sky was dark with thousands of parrots as they circled in flocks overhead and landed in the trees surrounding the square, squawking as they approached, drowning out any other noise around as we had to shout to be able to talk to each other!

In the morning we were collected early and taken to catch a small boat to the main port which was across a river that we would normally have walked across but the footbridge had been damaged and repairs were not yet complete.   The river was very busy with long wooden pirogues jostling for position as we pushed and squeezed our way out of the estuary and finally into the fast flowing stream of the mighty Amazon where we were loaded onto a much bigger and faster boat for the journey upstream. 

We were asked to put on lifejackets as the boat was filled with a mix of tourists and locals, the young captain masterly negotiating debris in the river as we made a highspeed journey upstream.   We made short stops at small villages and settlements along the river, depositing passengers on muddy banks and leaving them to scramble up hills as we continued our journey 40 miles up the river.   Eventually we reached Puerto Narino where we were met by Brehitner who would be our guide for the next few days.   Brehitner was in his late-twenties (I think) from Peru, spoke perfect English as he had trained as an English teacher, was hugely knowledgeable about nature and local tribes/traditions and was altogether a lovely man!  We would get to know each other quite well over the following few days.

Puerto Narino is a surprisingly big town populated by about 85% native tribes, with no cars or vehicles and clean, well kept pathways.   A waterfront stadium seemed to be in continuous use with football or volleyball games, well supported by enthusiastic spectators.   A daily market lined the footpath with fresh fish, fruit and some vegetables for sale as well as a very small amount of jewellery and local art.  

Our tour started straight away with a boat trip to see the pink dolphins that feed in the fast flowing waters in front of the town.  It didn’t take long before a flash of pink alerted us that we were in the company of a large river dolphin that are unique to the Amazon.  Unlike the bottlenose or common dolphins, pink dolphins do not often interact with humans, preferring to keep their distance.  They also do not jump out the water but slowly porpoise, showing their pink sides as they move through the water feeding on shrimps and crustacean that give the dolphin its pink colour.   They are large mammals – much larger than other dolphins we have seen – and are treasured but also occasionally hunted by the tribes.  

After following pink dolphins for a while Brehitner took us to a sandy island in the Amazon, across from Puerto Narino, and in doing so, crossed the invisible border into Peru for the first time.   Much to our amazement, we spotted a flash of pink in the shallow waters and we all hurried towards the disturbance where were treated to watching a group of pink dolphins mating, with lots of splashing, thrashing and pink flashes before they parted ways!  

Later that afternoon, wearing our gumboots we had been lent in Leticia, Brehitner guided us on a walk through the forest.  As we approached a clearance in the trees, we heard how two years ago there had been thick forest, but during Covid the family that owns the land had to clear it to grow food as they had no other means of feeding their family.  I get upset at seeing the destruction of part of the forest but struggle with the loss v’s understanding a mans need to feed his family.   We saw rubbish strewn along the banks and in the side rivers of the Amazon which are all products of the western world putting our values and lifestyles on every culture we come in contact with.   The Catholic Church has a huge dominance in even the smallest communities and it was strange to hear western classical music being played in the jungle to a group of school children, some dressed in traditional costume, as proud nuns looked over the proceedings.   Who are we to tell these people they cannot clear some of the jungle to provide food for their families?  However, the affect of this clearing is evident in the large mudslides that mark the edge of the fast-flowing river.  Big ancient trees have been swept away into the brown waters and Brehitner told us that they believe a large island very close to the town will soon be swept away as the wet season approaches. 

Our visit to the Amazon was at the end of the dry season, in the wet months the river swells and floods the villages turning the tall pole houses into homes constructed above fast flowing water and canoes as the only means to leave the house.  Gardens are flooded and the mangroves come alive again with fish, Cayman and pink dolphins that live in the shallow water, giving birth amongst the roots of the flooded trees.   Houses and trees are stained with muddy lines showing the height of the river when in flood, creating a very different environment to the one we experienced. 

We continued our walk through the forest with Brehitner showing us different plants used for medicines or hunting purposes – the bark of a tree to ward off, or cure malaria, the thorn from a tree to make darts, poisoned with a specific tree frog, a rubber tree where the sap was extracted and the scars could still be seen on the bark.   It was fascinating to see these trees and hear from someone who knew, and lived in, the forest.  

We arrived at a building on tall poles and walked through the grounds to two lakes where the owners had developed a fish farm.  In a tree near the house lived a friendly Toucan, free to fly away but comfortable around humans allowing us to get very close to it as it sat in the lower branches of a large tree.   They are such beautiful birds with the most stunning colours on their beaks and feathers.   I was mesmorised by it!   In the lake lived huge Pirarucu fish one of them was enormous and looked like a serpent as it came to the surface to feed.   They can grow to 3m in length and this one didn’t seem far off it as it slowly came towards us, grabbed the food being offered and quickly beat its retreat!  

We waited until dark, relaxing in hammocks, chatting away until night fell.  We then returned to the lake with Brehitner pointing out small colourful frogs along the way.  We were on the hunt for Caymans that live in the reeds around the lake and as Brehitner shone his bright torch along the bank, several red eyes were reflected back at us!   I was under the misguided impression Cayman were small alligators – not true!   They can be very big alligators and I wasn’t too keen to get much closer than just seeing their eyes as we were walking along the waters edge!

We walked back to the village through the forest with Brehitner uncovering interesting critters along the way – plenty of large tarantulas, tiny colourful frogs, lizards, beetles, stick insects and moths.  If we’d been on our own we would’ve missed them, but Brehitner knew exactly what to look for and where to look!

The next day we headed back across the river to Peru and a visit to a small indigenous village where a local guide walked us through the forest, pointing out special trees as we went while Brehitner translated.  Sloths, curled up in the top of the trees, resembled footballs as they slept the day away – I’m not sure if/when they are ever active!    In the wet season the village and forest are flooded and once again there is evidence of large mud slides that have taken a considerable amount of land from the small community where we were treated to a traditional lunch, cooked over open fires in a large communal kitchen.  

That evening Brehitner steered us up the river in a small tin dinghy, gave us a fishing rod made from a stripped stick, with a short piece of fishing line attached to it and small hook.  It was beautifully old fashioned and child-like as he masterly cut-up some bait and told us to cast the line as far from the boat as possible, first swishing the tip of the rod in the water.   This was not just any fishing trip, this was us fishing for piranha!  

Nic had the first catch, managing to snare a fish Brehitner identified as a sardine which he then cut up and used as more bait.   We then all managed to catch catfish of varying sizes which we immediately threw back.   After moving to another part of the river in muddy water and close to the shallows, I successfully landed the first Piranha – a small fish with red sides and very sharp teeth.   We had so much fun in the still evening with the sun setting behind us as our catch numbers increased, laughing as Steve caught a large Piranha that I was so afraid was going to land on me that I moved backwards and fell into the bottom of the boat completely beached and unable to do anything but laugh as the caught fish continued to dangle above my head!

We returned to the village for our last night, with four of the nine or so Piranha we had caught, throwing the rest back to fight another day!   Brehitner prepared the fish and masterly cooked them for us, showing us the big teeth that were hidden behind their lips.   The fish tasted surprisingly delicate and was a lovely way to end a great day.

On our last day we walked through the area’s secondary school and into the grounds of a monkey rescue centre.   All the monkeys are uncaged and free to play, live and roam the forest around them but food is easy to find at the centre, so they tend to hang around.   There were three types of monkey with the cheeky Capuchin steeling the show with their fearless antics, climbing on our shoulders and arms as we fed them banana.   The other monkeys were a lot more fearsome but it was lovely to watch them in the trees, nimbly jumping from branch to branch and calling to each other as they climbed.  

After a final walk to the market and visit to a small museum, it was time to leave Puerto Narino and head back to the metropolis of Leticia!  As we made our way downstream at high speed, dodging large trees and other organic matter floating down the Amazon, we reflected on the last few days.  It had been a magical experience to be in the Amazon, to witness life in an extremely isolated community and to have had the privilege to see so much nature.  It had been a dream of mine to one day get to the Amazon, but I was unsure how/if I could ever realise it.   How lucky am I to now have memories not dreams…?  

Colourful Cartagena

The alarm went off early on Monday morning and we were up and off the boat within half an hour, excited for the next part of our journey of discovery!   Together with our trusted friends and companions, Mike and Nicki, we hailed a taxi to take us to the main bus terminal which is on the outskirts of town.   We were heading to Cartagena, an old city about 400 miles west of Santa Marta which is steeped in history.

The bus was very comfortable and the roads leading out of Santa Marta were fast and smooth as we slowly left the city behind and started seeing more rural scenes as we sped through the countryside.   We passed an estuary with a large flock of pale pink flamingos that all took flight as we approached, flying beside us, much to my delight, their long necks outstretched as they beat their large wings. 

A short while later we passed a shanty village built on stilts over the Magdalena River estuary.  The river close to the houses was a rubbish tip and we watched someone throw a plastic bottle off their deck to join the rest of the rubbish collecting close to the houses.   Further downstream a group of men waded knee deep with a fishing nets in hand and I wondered whether they would catch more rubbish than fish……

We saw large flocks of Egrets and Turkey Vultures along the beach as we followed the coast on our journey west, passing through small towns where horse and carts were used to transport crops and goods.  Large Haciendas, marked with imposing gates and the occasional horseback riders gave the impression we were on the set of a movie as we continued our journey through the roads lined with trees ladened with ripening avocados with fallen fruit left to rot around the trunk.   It was an enjoyable five hour bus trip giving us a moving window into life in Colombia.

Cartagena was an import port for the export of gold and silver and for importing slaves from Africa. As it is in a key location, close to Central America as well as the Caribbean, and shipping precious cargo, the city was a target for pirates and privateers (pirates that were thieving under the name of royalty, like Sir Francis Drake), so the city was heavily fortified. As well as having a rich maritime history, the city has beautiful historic buildings which have colourful and interesting stories to tell.

Like in Santa Marta, the bus station in Cartagena is on the outskirts of town so we negotiated a low price for a taxi into the old city so we could get our bearings before finding our accommodation.   Cartagena has two distinct areas – the old and the new city, and we wanted to focus on the old part.   We approached the walled city, walking through Centenario Park where marmoset monkeys climbed in the branches and sloths, introduced to the park a few years ago, lazily sleep in the upper branches of trees.  

We had arrived on Cartegena independence Day, a national holiday which is celebrated with a large festival in the city, the culmination being the crowning of Miss Colombia!  With the festivities finished, it was now time to focus on Christmas and large decorations were being installed in the main square in front of the gate through the city walls.   As we approached the stone arched gateway we started to get a taste of what to expect in the city as men with hats stacked on their heads and arms full of sunglasses approached us trying to sell us their wares.   Once inside the walls we were taken aback by the amount of hustling and continuous requests to have us part with our money!   However this did not detract from the beauty of the buildings and sense of history in the lovely old city.   We were excited to get to know Cartagena over the next few days, but first we took a US$3 taxi ride to our accommodation, on the northern beaches of the city and settled into our modern apartment, wasting no time getting familiar with the washing machine, good showers and swimming pool!

Over the next few days we wandered the city streets, met up with friends for lunch, went on another excellent guided walking tour and enjoyed numerous eating and drinking establishments!   The city is vibrant and colourful with lots of beautiful buildings, lovely plazas and some spectacular murals on buildings in the Getsemani district.   Some of the old buildings had door knockers which gave an indication of the profession of the people that once lived there – a sea merchant would have  a knocker of an anchor, fish or anything to do with the sea; royalty or those from high society would have an iguana; clergy would have a hand and a lion represented members of the army or protectors of the city.   The big wooden doors that these knockers decorated often opened into a large lobby that led into a beautiful, enclosed courtyard.  

While on the walking tour, we were in the Plaza de la Aduana when our guide abruptly broke off from his speech and stopped a man in the street, introducing him to us as the Mayor of Cartagena.  He was very affable and spoke excellent English (we later learned he had lived in the USA for many years) and was very impressed we were from NZ.  His security team quickly surrounded him and hustled him away – we learned he is not a very popular Mayor!   A little while later we were led to an area where our guide announced he was going to introduce us to his future wife….. he then showed us a pavement dedicated to all the past winners of Miss Colombia, just as the stunning, newly crowned Miss Colombia made an appearance, flashed us a beautiful smile and entered the building.   Our guide was speechless as we joked with him that his future wife had just passed him by! 

The city had many fine statues and monuments but were outnumbered by the huge array of cafes and bars offering excellent coffee and appetising food!   One of our favourites was Abaco Libros y Café which was a small coffee house inside an old bookshop.  The walls were lined with thousands of books and gliding ladders gave access to those on the top shelves.  

After a few days exploring the city we made our way to the airport for the next leg of our adventure.   While we were sad to be leaving Cartagena we were also excited for what lay ahead as we were all about to experience something none of us imagined we would have had the opportunity to do.

The long goodbye

There are times when you know you are in the right place doing the right thing. When you feel a sense of calm come over you; when you feel the gentle embrace of friendship; the slow rhythm of life creating new routines and the sudden realisation that having a day off without feeling guilt is ok!

Our lives soon became a comfortable routine of happy moments and experiences. Our friends on Take Five had finally caught up after last seeing them in The Canaries when they left ahead of us to cross The Atlantic with my sister Bea and brother-in-law, Andy, on board. They anchored next to us in the busy bay which was now a happy community of old and new friends. Together we organised for a group of 20 to go to Carnival together, the first Carnival, or Spicemas, which has been held since 2019 due to Covid, so the island was ready to party.

Carnival is a two day public holiday which starts on the Monday at dawn with J’Ouvert where people dress as devils called Jabs-Jabs, wearing black horned helmets, chains and covered in black oil. Spectators are also covered in oil with back handprints and pale background seemingly being the ultimate prize for the horned Jabs-Jabs’. Monday night Mass is a parade of bands with colourful costumes and feature the Short Knee bands who carry talcum powder as a symbol of appreciation and sprinkle it on those who make a cash donation. Sadly the Festival was lacking a good Event Manager and nothing ran to time, with the Monday Mass starting 4hrs late – too late for most cruisers, so we missed the main part of the show. Carnival Tuesday is known as The Last Lap and dancers gyrate through the streets in bright, skimpy costumes following trucks, each with their own DJ or band playing music with the bass so loud it reverberated through our bodies as they passed us by. The atmosphere was friendly, happy and inclusive even though a lot of the symbolic costumes and actions referenced the days of slavery and the hatred of the white landowners.

With the date of our departure for Bonaire constantly being pushed back while we waited for news on whether our friends on Ilanda had received their new, larger outboard motor so we could buy their current one from them, we decided to take an introductory SCUBA dive. I am not confident under the water and didn’t want to commit to doing my PADI openwater certificate if I didn’t enjoy it. Steve and I were the only students on the day and we were well looked after as we practiced breathing under water and learning how to manage the heavy equipment. I loved it and felt very relaxed in the shallow warm waters at Lance Aux Epines Beach in Prickly Bay. Steve was, surprisingly, not quite as comfortable under the water but we both agreed it was something we wanted to take further once we arrive in Bonaire.

We were keen to see more of the island so, together with four other friends – Zen Again and Take Five – we hired a local guide who had come highly recommended, and spent a day touring the island. We had already been to some of the sights, but were keen to see others so suggested an itinerary which, Cutty, our guide, tweaked slightly before we left for a full day of adventure.

One of the many things we wanted to do before leaving Grenada was to see monkeys in the wild. Only a few of Caribbean islands have monkeys as they are not native to the area, having been brought here from Western Africa on slave ships in the 1700’s. The mona monkey is found in the interior of the island where the rain forest is thick and food plentiful, however sometimes they do come out of the interior and steal fruit crops, upsetting farmers and locals. For this reason, there is a hunting season and locals are allowed to eat their meat for a few months of the year. Cutty was a monkey whisperer and charmed a few cheeky monkeys out of the trees for us, encouraging them to land on our shoulders and heads as he used bananas as a reward! Their soft padded feet gently moved up my arms and they happily jumped from one person to the next, coaxed by the fruit that, when given to them, they ran back into the trees to savour the prized banana, storing it in their cheeks like hamsters, for them to enjoy later!

Our day included a swim in a refreshing pond under one of the Seven Sisters Waterfalls, a visit to a disused airfield where the PM’s old private plane lays decaying beside an old Cuban Airways passenger plane, both unused since the 70’s and now slowly rotting away in a field now used as a children’s playing ground! Cutty delighted in telling us about the wonderful medicinal qualities of the many native plants on the island as well as showing us how Cinnamon is harvested, explained about how nutmeg was the islands major export crop until the devastating hurricane 15 years ago destroyed 80% of the trees, and picked us a cacoa pod so we could suck on the sweet flesh that surrounds the cocoa bean. He took us to the islands oldest rum distillery which still uses a waterwheel to crush the sugarcane, although not open to the public, Cutty had a key and took us on a private tour explaining each step of the process.

It was a lovely day spent with good friends and a fabulous, informative guide. We travelled the length and width of the island, learning about the spices, politics and economy of this beautiful place we have been lucky enough to call home for about three months.

Our time in Grenada was coming to an end. The height of the hurricane season was now upon us and each morning we would study the weather forecast and what tropical waves may be starting to form in the Atlantic. Our insurance would not cover us for any named storms so we had to be ready to sail out of the path of any hurricane as soon as one looked like it was heading towards Grenada. It was time to start heading west, away from the hurricane belt and start exploring new waters.

Steve went up the mast to check the rigging, a task we do each time we are preparing for a long passage. He noticed a crack in one of the tangs that attach the stays to the mast – these are very important as a failure in heavy weather could result in losing the mast. We needed to get it fixed and quickly if we were to keep to our planned departure day in a weeks time. Luckily the local riggers had four of the exact fittings in stock and our friends on Escapade had an industrial rivet gun they lent us, so armed with a little bit of knowledge, some confidence and lots of hope, Steve was hoisted up the mast to replace four of the six tangs. It took two days to complete the task under the hot sun and rolling anchorage of Benji Bay with Steve spending hours up the mast pushing and straining as he rivetted the tangs in place and while I sent bags up the mast of needed tools and supplies. It was huge achievement getting them all replaced and the rigging re-secured.

It was time to farewell our friends and leave the country that had won our hearts and given us such wonderful memories.   As we prepared to leave the green hilly shores of Grenada I reflected on why this small, fertile island had won our hearts so much and what lasting impressions we would take away with us.  It is the small colourful houses perched on hillsides sitting on long poles that don’t look strong enough to support the house; the lush rain forest that dominates every view; the public buses blaring loud rap music as they career along narrow bumpy roads where it is best not to look as the driver weaves through obstacles and overtakes on blind corners; it is the hairstyles of the women which are really more like works of art; it is the huge smiles on the faces of the children and men (women don’t tend to be as cheerful!); it is the warm, calm waters that we would swim in every day; it is the amazing varieties of fruit that roadside sellers try to tempt you into buying from them; it is the roadside rumshacks that come alive in the evenings as neighbours come together and catch up on the days events; and it is the fabulous group of people we were fortunate enough to call friends and spend special times with as we all sheltered from the threat of hurricanes in these idyllic waters.    How lucky are we to have spent three months on this beautiful island?    But, as the sun rose on Sunday 4 September, we finished off the final preparations to leave and slipped out of Benji Bay with horns blasting from Take Five and several friends coming to wave us goodbye.  The excitement of what lay ahead was tinged with sadness as we slowly headed out into the blue Caribbean sea that lay beyond the protective reef.   Our course was set for the west, to Bonaire and the new adventures and friendships that lay ahead.

Home from Home

Going home was something we had both looked forward to with growing anticipation. We missed our family and friends after a two and a half year absence and were looking forward to hugging our family, spending time with our friends and drinking lots of good coffee!

Although the excitement was building, the thought of spending two days travelling back to Auckland was far less appealing and I tried to suppress the growing sense of dread as the days became hours and the time of our departure arrived. As we flew over Benji Bay, I could have sworn I saw King Richard on the deck of the cottage, sipping a can of beer as he enjoyed a few days of peace and quiet on his own in our slice of paradise!

The flight was as awful as we had imagined it to be, missing our connecting flight to LA from Miami due to long delays at immigration, and having to spend an uncomfortable night trying to sleep on the floor in the airport while our pre-paid Air B&B in LA remained unused and unrefundable! However, the thought of the warm welcome that awaited us in NZ kept our spirits high.

We arrived in Auckland ahead of schedule and were first through the doors into the arrivals hall, surprising my daughter and Steve’s mum, with our speedy passage through immigration and customs. It felt so good to give and receive warm embraces to Rebecca and Joy and the memories of the flight slowly faded as the realisation sunk in that we were really back home with our loved ones.

Our time in New Zealand was spent catching up with family and friends – every day it seemed we were with different people, making the most of our time with our children and family. We travelled from Auckland to Christchurch, where I screamed with delight as my son, Jak, surprised us at the airport, confusing and alarming the crowd of people at the luggage belt! I loved being back in Lyttelton, staying with my wonderful, generous and beautiful family – Erin and Dave – and catching up with so many friends. While there I gave a talk to about 60 people at the Little Ships Club about our travels to date and was really surprised and happy to see so many old friends attending. Bex travelled from Wellington and we had one glorious evening with both my children with me for the first time in so long. After a few blissful days relaxing with Jak and Ju in French Farm – the location of ours and Jak and Ju’s weddings and the beautiful second home of Dave and Erin’s – we continued on to Wellington where both Bex and Steve’s son, David, live. The saying, “you can’t beat Wellington on a good day”, is so true and we were lucky enough to have several days of clear skies and bright sunshine. It was wonderful and comforting to see how settled both Bex and David were and once again, will treasure the time spent with them both.

Back in Auckland we mostly focused on Steve’s family and spent time with all his siblings, children and grandchildren. It meant so much to us that everyone took time out of their busy lives to create special memories with us – we will live off those memories for the next couple of years and beyond!

All too soon, it was time to pack our bags and prepare for the long journey back to Grenada and the growing list of boat jobs ahead of us! We were staying with my cousin, Brent, in his beautiful home when Brent and Sandy both came down with Covid, so we sadly had to keep ourselves away from them and only communicate at a distance with a staircase between us! We were returning with more luggage than we had brought, weighing ourselves down with much needed new clothes and boat gear that was cheaper and more accessible in NZ than Grenada.

Although very long, the return flight was not quite as painful as the outward journey, with no stressful tight connections to worry about. We arrived back in Grenada about 40 minutes late and sped through immigration and customs before being spat out into the hot humid temperatures of the Caribbean where Sue, our landlady, met us in her beat up old truck. She drove us down the rutted, washed out road leading to the apartment we had rented from her for the next week. It was a welcome relief to experience the cool air conditioned rooms as we looked out over Benji Bay and spotted the familiar boat of our friends Kim and Ann, moored just off the private jetty below our apartment. Benji Bay was now full of yachts spending the hurricane season sheltering in the protective paradise of Grenada. As we looked across the bay and watched the sunset and the colours in the sky change from blue to pink, red and orange, we felt like we were home.

That night we slept really well and the next morning Nathan, our Australian friend and neighbour who was doing up his boat in the same yard, gave us a ride so we could start working on Cerulean. The batteries were dead as the solar panels had not kept up with the draw of the dehumidifier, but apart from that, everything seemed in order. We worked hard for three weeks, moving back onto the boat a week after our return, draping the hatches, opening windows and companionway with mosquito netting to try and keep any of the numerous bitey things out of our living space. At night the swarms of mosquitos and no-see-ems became particularly bad and, when mixed with the heat, it became almost unbearable as we scratched, swatted and fanned ourselves throughout the evenings!

Our beautiful new stainless steel watertank was hoisted into place and then hidden under the seating as we carefully re-installed the furniture, solving the krypton-factor-ish puzzle as we tried to remember how everything had come apart, and reversing it!!! It was a huge relief when finally, everything slotted into place and we were able to restore the cushions on the seats and have our comfortable saloon back together! It’s funny how a small amount of furniture can make the space a home again.

Our time out of the water was sociable as we celebrated success and met fellow boatyard dwellers! Each evening we made good use of the endless supply of water and enjoyed long showers as we scrubbed off the days dirt, sweat and smells! One night we were woken to the sound of torrential rain, quickly shutting all the open hatches and returning to our stifling hot bed as we listened to the storm gathering outside. The wind whipped round the boats, shaking us in the cradle and we lay there, relieved we didn’t have to worry about anchors dragging but still concerned about things hitting us! It was later announced that this sudden storm was actually classified as a grade 1 hurricane with winds reaching over 80mph. It was slightly disconcerting how quickly the system developed with no prior warning as it was apparently an extremely difficult event to predict – the perfect storm of conditions, I guess!

The day of our launch arrived and we were ready. We had a new watertank installed which we had successfully tested for two weeks with no sign of leaks; a new water guage so we can easily see how much water we have in the tanks; new antifoul (although we did have a colour disaster with the blue stripe and had to changed it to black at the last minute), propeller serviced, small leaks found and remedied, boat polished and cleaned, sails serviced and repaired, chaps made for our new dinghy (donated to us by Kim and Ann and named KAM), repairs made to our sprayhood which were more preventative than anything, shower sealed, generator exhaust repaired and all through hull seacocks serviced. We felt ready and eager to get back on the water. The yard had let us know we would launch at 2pm, so I decided I would jump on a free bus to town and renew our cruising permit (which from this point forward is known as a cursing permit). As I was waiting for the bus, I got talking to a South African man named Bert and we shared sailing stories as we pondered whether the bus was going to come. No sooner had this been vocalised when a man pulled up beside us in his rental car and offered us a ride. Unsure where he was going, and feeling a pang of guilt that I’d already told Patrick, the bus driver, that I wanted a ride, I turned down the offer. We continued to wait until, eventually Patrick’s bus slowly approached the yard. As we hopped in, joining a couple who had already been collected from another marina, Patrick informed us that he had a problem with the bus and proceeded to lift the front seat to expose the engine which was obviously overheating but when Patrick removed the radiator cap, a great puff of steam rose up into the already hot bus! I voiced concern and questioned out loud whether this was a good idea to head to town when we would be launching in a few hours time. Patrick assured me it would all be fine and, sure enough, it did not take long for us to be on our way again, hurtling down the narrow, winding roads in true Grenadan style! Our next stop was Whisper Cove Marina, a small settlement not far from the apartment we had rented when we first returned to Grenada. At this point Patrick announced his bus was too sick to continue but he had called a friend who would drive us into town. As we stood waiting the couple on the bus decided to head into the cafe for a drink and we were joined by a Canadian husband and wife as we passed the time talking and laughing, while inside I was starting to get concerned about the amount of time left for me to get the permit and return to the boat. The replacement bus and young driver arrived and the four of us piled in to the the hot van and waited for the missing couple as we tried to extract them from the cafe! Bert, knowing my time constraints, had some stern words to say to them as we eventually sped away. The driver was even more frightening than Patrick and I couldn’t watch as he overtook on blind bends and beeped at any car infront of us who would not get out of his way. It was when we slowly drew to a halt on the side of the road, that I realised we had broken down again and Bert lent forward and said to me – “Remember that guy who offered you a lift? It was a sign and you should’ve taken it…..!” Not helpful! A few minutes later we were on our way again, catching up with all the traffic we had earlier overtaken as we sped down the road that the driver seemed to think was a formula one race track.

We arrived at the chandlery and, as the driver was paid based on the number of passengers he brought to the shop, I went inside after telling him I would not be returning on the bus! Bert followed me in and told me to return to the chandlery when I’d got my permit and we would share the cost of a taxi back to the boatyard as he didn’t rate his chances of getting back alive on the bus. With that I started to run the 1.5km in stifling heat and jandels to the customs/immigration office in Port St Louis. As I turned into the approach road a young guy in a golf buggy must’ve taken pity on the disheveled looking woman who ran like a seal out of water, and offered me a lift to the marina entrance. I hopped in, grateful for the chance to catch my breath and cool down in the shade of the covered buggy. Finally I was at the customs/immigration office and a small queue greeted me, followed by a man telling me the officer had left 10 minutes ago and had not been seen since…..! It was now 11.30 and we were due to launch in 2.5hrs and I still had to find a taxi, pick up Bert and get back to Clarkes Court. At this point I was about to leave and admit defeat when the officer slowly ambled back towards the office, unlocked the door and invited the first person in the queue inside. While I waited two other men joined the queue, with one recognising me as being from the boat in front of his in Clarkes Court. I cheekily asked if he was driving back there and he offered to drop me at the end of the very rutted lane that leads to the boatyard. I explained that I was meeting Bert and he said “no problem, we’ll go find him”. Relief!!! The permit only took five minutes to sort and we continued to talk while my new driver (Shayden) waited for his friend, a large Russian man named Igor, sorted his permit. By the time we reached the car, we were old friends and with the air con pumping, we headed back down the approach road to find Bert. Bert, in the meantime, had run several errands and was making his way to Port Louis so it was with surprise that I saw him walking towards us. I’m not sure who was more surprised when I threw the passenger door open as the car was still moving forward and yelled at Bert to jump in, which he deftly did and bounced in beside me as the car continued moving, not missing a beat! We all chatted on the way back until we got to the turn off and Shayden decided to continue down the road all the way to the boatyard, dropping us outside Cerulean to a somewhat bemused and confused Steve! It was an adventure but we now had our cruising permit and, after a short delay in our launch, we were afloat just 2.5hrs later on our way to find a quiet anchorage. As we left the slipway, Steve announced how surprised he was at the joy he felt being back on the water and that was music to my ears as we dropped the anchor just off Benji Bay, surrounded by boats belonging to friends. The wind was cool, the mozzies non-existent and we breathed a huge sigh of relief as we headed out in the dinghy to have a rum with friends to celebrate being back on the water!

King of the SVG’s

Every boat needs a person that knows the engine, electrics and mechanics back-to-front and inside out.   Often this is the owner and, of course, this is the preferred and best scenario but it is rare to find someone who is a jack of all trades and can fix almost anything that breaks or needs attention.   We don’t have those skills, but we know someone that does……!    While we were in Cornwall getting work done in 2020/21 we were lucky enough to meet Richard who we initially employed to do some electrical work but soon discovered he had so many other valuable skills.    Since then he has worked with us to resolve countless problems or answer questions which have arisen in the last 12 months of cruising.   Richard is most definitely the third member of our crew, so when we were given an eyewatering quote to replace the worn out aquadrive thrust bearing, we checked on the cost of flights from the UK and asked Richard if he fancied an all expenses paid holiday to the Caribbean!    He accepted and we were delighted.

I collected Richard from the airport on a warm muggy evening and we celebrated his arrival with drinks on the deck as Richard slowly acclimatised himself to the heat and surroundings, losing no time to point out a few jobs that needed fixing!   Next morning work started on removing the worn out part and replacing it with a brand new, 30yr old one that Richard had collected for us from an auction we had won on eBay!    Steve and Richard worked tirelessly for three days – pulling, cutting, levering and pushing until, suddenly and amazingly, the shaft moved into place and the new bracket was installed.  A quick test showed the whole procedure had been a huge success and the engine was now purring again with the propeller shaft sounding quieter than we have ever heard it.  

Leatherback turtles nest on the northern beaches of Grenada.  The only time they come to shore is when the 15yr old female comes to shore, scrambles up the beach, digs a big hole, lays a batch of eggs and then buries them carefully in the sand before heading back to sea.   I was given the opportunity to join a small team of other sailors and marine biologists, to watch these magnificent creatures lay their eggs.   Once the large female had found her way up the beach, we were quietly ushered a short distance from this large creature as she used her back flippers to dig a deep hole.  Sand flew all around us as she put an enormous amount of effort into digging deeper and deeper.   When she was satisfied the hole was sufficiently deep enough, she started laying eggs.   She began by laying small unfertilised eggs which lined the bottom of the hole and provided a soft cushion for the fertilised eggs to fall on.    She then laid 115 fertilised eggs, mixed with unfertilised ones which will protect the turtles as they grow in the sand.   As she laid the eggs, the turtle goes into a trance and the scientists took this opportunity to measure the female and we were given the chance to touch her leathery shell.   It was an amazing experience to be so close to this magnificent creature as she put so much effort into laying her eggs, her eyes were full of tears as she groaned and gently moved her head side to side.   The egg laying process took about 20 minutes and then the great effort started in covering the eggs to protect them from predators and compacting the sand which she took a huge effort to ensure her tracks were covered and there were no visible signs of a nest.   The baby turtles will hatch in 6-8 weeks and I hope to be able to watch them as they emerge from the sand and make their dangerous run to the sea.   We watched her while she slowly edged towards the sea and allowed the waters to flood over her and a wave carry her back out to sea.

With the engine fixed, we set out on a sea trial by motor sailing 40 miles to Carriacou and checked out of Grenada after catching up with Zen Again for a quick meal ashore as our paths crossed again with us heading north and Mike & Nicki heading south to Grenada. 

We had sailed past and through St Vincent and the Grenadines (SVG) a couple of times, and now it was time to explore these much anticipated islands with Richard.   We had a lovely sail to Bequia, a small island only 5 miles long and one of only three places in the SVG’s you are able to check-in/out of the country.   Bequia was the only place we could check in and provide our own RAT’s kit, saving us US$50 each so we felt it was worth the journey to save that much!   We had completed all the on-line check-in requirements and had heard that a friend had managed to check-in without using an agent recently, so decided to attempt that too.   We made our way to the hospital with our test kits and a lovely nurse pushed the long testing stick up each of our noses.   We then waited outside, nervously anticipating the results.   While we waited a man came to see us and told us we would need to go to the agents office to complete our check-in procedure.   We tried to establish why we would need to do this, when we had done the testing and would still need to go to immigration and customs to complete the process.   The nurse re-appeared and gave us some good news, followed by bad…..we were all negative but the results with the required piece of paper, had been sent to the agents office.   We asked if we could have the record showing we had tested negative without going through the costly agent and were told this was not possible.   She was genuinely surprised when we told her that the agent wanted to charge us EC120 to issue the paper we needed to complete check-in.   Seeing no other way around it, we made our way to the agents, paid the fee and returned to immigration and customs to get the necessary stamps in our passports and cruising permits.  

Our friends on Puff had arrived in the same anchorage a few hours after us.   Keen to see some of the island, I joined Kris and Ingrid for a walk from Port Elizabeth, where we were anchored, across the island to Friendship Bay in the south.  It was a lovely walk/scramble at times losing the track and retracing our steps as we pushed back branches and thorny plants!    Our walk started and finished on the lovely white sands of Princess Margaret Bay, named to honour the Princess who visited Bequia in the 1950’s during one of her regular stays at her island home on neighbouring Mustique.   Bequia (pronounced Bec-way) is a beautiful island with a lovely Caribbean charm to it, gorgeous beaches, lovely homes and clear, blue seas.    We hope to return there before leaving Grenada and explore a little more.

After a few days, it was time to move on as we wanted to make sure we had sufficient time to explore other islands.   The wind was perfect for a good sail to Tobago Cays, a group of uninhabited islands in a National Park.   We wove our way through the reefs that border the main island and were guided into the bay by a local “boat man” where we carefully dropped our anchor into sand, avoiding the sea grass that provides food for the many turtles that breed in the waters.    We lost no time jumping into the dinghy and heading to a spot slightly out of the fast current that flows through the anchorage.   We soon saw a turtle lazily grazing of the seabed, occasionally coming to the surface before taking a breath and swimming back down to continue eating.   It is so wonderful to watch these creatures swimming underwater – something I can never tire of.

Over the next few days we snorkelled every day, exploring the many reefs that surround the Cays.   The coral was beautiful – there was some bleaching but certainly the best coral we have seen yet in the Caribbean.   The fish life was spectacular and we saw eels, squid, eagle rays and so many colourful fish it felt like we were in an aquarium.   In addition the number of turtles we saw was wonderful, often with three or four swimming close to us at one time.   On one day we were heading back to the dinghy having returned from a short walk when we noticed a couple of Lemon shark in the shallow waters just off the beach.   It was fascinating to explore these rich waters which are full of life and beautiful blue, clear waters.

We were due to be hauled out in less than a week, so it was time to return to Grenada after enjoying a couple of weeks creating happy memories with King Richard in the tropical surrounds of the SVG’s.   We felt we didn’t do the islands justice and hope to be able to return to them in a few months, if the weather allows us.

We had a very short sail to Union Island so we could check out of The Grenadines, sailing in the company of our friends, Kim and Ann on Ilanda.   Checking out was quick and easy, completing the process within 30 minutes so we could return to the boat and continue our sail south to Carriacou where we checked back into Grenada.    That night we had a lovely evening with Kim and Ann and Mark, the owner of a lovely Rustler yacht anchored next to us, and we watched the most wonderful sunset with the evening colours slowly intensifying until the grand finale was on display before us.

The next morning we set sail with Ilanda and headed south.  Once again we had a great sail between Carriacou and the top of Grenada but once we started heading more west the seas became sloppy and the sails starting flogging and our pace slowed considerably.   Ilanda turned into Woburn and we continued to Prickly Bay where we would prepare for our haul out.   Over the next few days we made use of Richards expertise and fixed a number of niggling issues on the boat as well as prepared for the major work we were doing once we were hauled out.    Each day we once again marvelled at Richards knowledge and our good fortune at meeting him and now having him as a friend. 

We were due to be hauled out on the Tuesday morning and moved to Woburn the night before we were lifted, anchoring close to the boat yard.   At 8am I called the yard to get instructions and they told us we were supposed to be there now as we were booked for haul out at 8am!    We quickly raised the anchor and motored to the slipway, just as a large squall and heavy rainfall arrived.   After a brief delay waiting for the rain and wind to pass, we were very professionally guided into the slipway and gently lifted, washed, placed into a cradle and secured for the next three months.   We were due to fly out for NZ in five days and in that time needed to dismantle the saloon and remove the old leaking water tank.  Again, under Richards guidance, we set about moving the furniture and exposing the stainless steel water tank.  We could now see more of the tank than we had ever seen before which looked in good condition.   We started to question whether we had imagined the leak, until we filled the tank and water soon came pouring into the bilge.   When the tank was removed we could see it had blown out, causing some weak points to leak and there were several areas at the back of the tank where the water was escaping.   Our decision to replace the tank was a good one, but expensive!  

The boat was now prepared for our one month away and ready for us to continue working on her when we return.   The weather was hot but noticeably wetter and we had moved off the boat into an apartment which had a pool and pontoon with beautiful garden.   We had a large mango tree beside our deck which dropped fruit on our neighbours roof each night.   Tiny tree frogs started calling as the sun went down until the noise was quite deafening. 

And now it’s time to leave for NZ.   We will leave Richard to enjoy the apartment on his own for a few days while we head to Florida and then LA.    He is finding things to repair in the apartment, now he’s completed so many of the jobs we had lined up for him on our boat.   He is also being invited on board a new friend’s boat to give advice on some of their issues – his fun never stops!  

On our last night we met up with a group of old and new friends before we all go our separate ways, not knowing when/if we will sail in the same waters again – Walkabout, Zen Again, Ilanda, Ari and Favorita.   As my mum used to quote – “Parting is such sweet sorrow” and, sadly, with the lifestyle we have, we get used to goodbyes but it certainly doesn’t make them any easier.   The boat is a mess, with everything piled up in the main saloon, ready for when we return and can complete the rest of the jobs that remain un-Richard-ed but with clear instructions on how we can complete them!     We will miss having King Richard around, both for his slightly whacky sense of humour, but also for his incredible expertise….. in everything!    Our hearts are now being pulled home into the arms of our families who we are so excited to see again after 27 months apart

A sail too far. Limping to Guadeloupe

The outline of the many islands that make up the Virgin group took along time to fade into the distance.   Cerulean was moving through the water well, but we were not making great speed over the ground.   I like to continually play with the sails to make sure we are making the best speed possible, but could not seem to get Cerulean moving as fast as I expected.   Then, just as the sun was getting low in the sky, our forward, and largest jib, started flapping, confusing me for a second, before I realised it was falling down.   A shackle attaching the top/head of the jib to the furler swivel, had broken, leaving the swivel at the top of the mast and the sail in the water.    Steve and I rushed forward and, in fading light and bumpy seas, pulled the sodden sail back on board.   Fortunately, as we have two jibs, we were able to continue sailing with our smaller Staysail up while we worked out what to do next!    We stowed the big jib in the forward cabin until we had better conditions for Steve to go up the mast to retrieve the swivel and halyard.     Our speed slowed even more and we bounced along, going an average of 4knots with the wind turning more southerly, so causing us to head further south than we wanted.    At this rate we would end up in Trinidad, but we kept positive and hoped the wind would go more easterly, or northerly for a while so we could make up some ground before having to tack.

During the night we experienced a number of squalls with the winds suddenly increasing from 17knots to 30knots with very little warning in the darkness of the surrounding sea and sky.   The boat and hydrovane managed the sudden changes in wind strength beautifully and, with full main and just the staysail out, we continued making steady progress towards the Eastern islands we had sailed past so quickly a couple of months earlier on our way to Antigua.   It soon became clear that what we thought was going to be, at most, a two day sail, was going to turn into a three day one as we were heading further south than we wanted and the winds dropped, making our progress painfully slow as the strong Westerly current was pushing us back another 2knots.   We decided to turn on the engine and, as the seas had flattened out considerably, Steve ventured up the mast so we could hoist the yankee again.    We had been experiencing a worrying noise coming from the prop shaft when the engine was in gear and recently this noise had become much louder.   While in St Martins, with the help of Mike from Zen Again, we traced the cause of the grating noise and had been nursing the offending part, hoping we could make it back to Grenada so we could fix the problem when we had the boat out of the water in a couple of months.    Steve had already started researching the required parts so in the meantime, we were trying to limit the use of the engine and keeping the revs down to as low as possible when we had to use the iron sail!

As we turned on the engine, we could hear that things were getting worse and the increase in noise was only matched by our growing concern as we were forced to turn off the engine and sit in no wind as we drifted further away from our preferred destination.    Fortunately we could see rain clouds ahead, and with the rain came squalls again, which turned out to be our friend, as we followed the clouds for a while and our speed increased.   At 3am on the third night, we were about 20NM off the coast of Montserrat when we tacked again, hoping the wind would back to the north, as forecast, so we could head straight for Guadeloupe.   As we progressed further south, our wishes were granted and the green hills of Guadeloupe were a welcoming sight as we gathered speed, heading towards the middle of the island.   Due to the high mountains, there is often a wind shadow to the west of the island and, when we were about 5NM away, the wind died completely.    We reluctantly turned on the engine, keeping the revs very low, and tried calling our friends, Mike and Nicki, on Zen Again, (who were already in Guadeloupe) on the off-chance they could a) hear us and b) have their radio on.    We were in luck and it was wonderful to hear Mike’s voice, directing us to their anchorage in Bouillante.  We later discovered they had only just turned on their radio after seeing us approaching on AIS. 

Bouillante is a small village with palm trees along the waterfront, nestled under high, tree covered hills.   A thermal power station in the south of the bay, provides a constant plume of steam and, with it, a faint smell of sulphur as warm thermal waters pour out into the anchorage, much to the enjoyment of locals who crowd the small bay at the weekend to enjoy a hot bathe in the already warm sea!

It took us a couple of attempts before the anchor gripped and then, once we were happy the anchor was solid, we tried, and failed, twice to check in to Guadelaupe – once taking the bus about 15 miles south to the capital city, Basse-Terre but could not find customs or immigration, or anything open for that matter.   The Town Hall, police station and most shops were closed so we returned from our failed mission with only a sim card and data to show for our effort.   The next day was Saturday so, together with Mike and Nicki, attempted to get a bus to Deshaies, about 15 miles in the opposite direction.   Once again we failed, as no buses were running and Bouillante does not have any taxis so we returned again to our boat, still flying the yellow Q flag to show we had not cleared customs yet.  

Back at the boat we called our “go-to” amazing friend and general hero, Richard, in the UK to pick his brains about the horrible grating noise we were getting when the engine was in gear.   After a lot of discussion, video conferencing and explaining, the resulting diagnosis found our situation to be even worse than we had feared, and we were advised to avoid using the engine at all cost.   I’m sure it’s not hard to imagine how we felt.   After spending so much work, time and money to ensure we had a reliable engine, we were now left with our worst case scenario of having no motor due to issues with our aquadrive thrust bearings, which essentially is a universal joint that connects the propellor shaft to the engine.   If this fails it could be catastrophic and, in effect, permanently damage the boat.   The risk was too great to even think about pushing our luck any further, but we had a number of issues to consider – whether we could get the required spares for a part that was already nearly 30 years old; if it was possible, how long it would take to have them delivered to the Caribbean; whether there was anyone with experience who could fit the parts, or at least oversee our work; and finally what the alternative was if we could not find the parts.    One thing was certain, we were currently anchored in one of the most isolated bays in the whole of Guadeloupe and, on talking to friends who are from the island, we realised we needed to get closer to where all the marine services are based – on the other side of the island in Pointe a Pitre.

On Monday morning, still not having checked in to the country, we waited for the sea breeze to arrive before sailing off our anchor and left the bay with Zen Again following close behind.   We headed to a group of islands at the very south of Guadeloupe, called Les Saintes, where we had been told it would be easier for us to access Pointe a Pitre due to regular ferry services with the mainland.   Once again, the sail took longer than we had anticipated as after about 5NM the wind died completely, spent about 10 minutes spinning around in every direction and then filled in from the west, which was where Mike and Nicki were, so they shot ahead of us as we, frustratingly sat becalmed for another 10 minutes! When the wind set in, we found we could not point as high as Zen Again so had to tack several times before getting a course into the channel which was scattered with fishing buoys. We arrived in Terre de Haut, the main island in Les Saintes, as it was getting dark and slowly tacked up the narrow channel towards mooring buoys that filled the bay in front of the attractive small town.   Luckily Zen Again had gone ahead and kept us informed of available buoys as we slowly edged our way towards them.   Mike guided us to a buoy and was there to help us secure our lines, which was a huge relief!   It was a few days later that we realised how lucky we were to have found a free mooring buoy as they were in hot demand and, in the week we were there, we never saw another empty mooring buoy in the evening. Maybe our luck was starting to change……

The next morning we, at last, checked in to the country and were able to drop our yellow Q flag, flying the French flag from our starboard spreader.   Checking in was the easiest yet, as it is all computer based and self service, so we completed the on-line form in an agents office, printed it off, had it stamped and signed and we were done!   No requirements to show papers, covid certificates, insurance or even passports.   Boom!

The islands of Les Saintes are the battle grounds of the biggest naval conflict fought by the English and French in the Caribbean in 1782.  The result was the building of a number of fortifications around the coast of the islands which still dominate the hillsides.    The islands are small but very popular with day trippers who clog up the narrow roads with electric bikes and golf carts so walking along the roads can be dangerous as they silently creep up behind you!   Iguanas and goats rustle through the fields and tiny colourful humming birds draw nectar from the many and varied colourful flowers that grow along the roadside.   The island was one of only a very few in the Caribbean which was not used for slavery as the poor soil was considered unviable for sugar plantations.

After exploring some of the island, our next task was trying to source the spare parts we desperately needed so we could use our engine again.   We carry a number of spares, but replacement thrust bearings are not a commonly needed item and, until they started to make a terrible grating noise, we had very little knowledge of what they were!   Now we knew more than we ever thought we’d need to know – every day being a school day!    We called in as much help as we could, asking advice and assistance from a number of different sources, trying to cover as many angles as possible.   In a moment of desperation, we had a look at eBay and, much to our surprise, there was an exact, brand new, full replacement for sale in the UK for a fraction of the price we would be able to pay normally and only slightly more than getting just the parts we desperately needed.  We checked with Richard in the UK who spent some time researching, checking measurements and then negotiating with the vendor on our behalf.   Less than 24hrs after first seeing the listing, we had bought the part and it was on its way to Richard so we could arrange for it to be transported to the Caribbean.   For once we felt the boat repair Gods were smiling down on us!

Easter had arrived, and with it came an email from a company who had agreed to fit the new part which they said we could have couriered directly to them.  They informed us they would need three full days to do the work and have the boat hauled out.   Although we were desperate, we were not that desperate, so after mulling over our options, we decided to continue on our journey south, without the engine.   As the boat was being hauled out in Grenada in about six weeks, it was a cost we could not warrant and, in addition, felt it was unnecessary as we were convinced the work could be done while we were still afloat.   We are a sailboat, after-all, so we would just make better use of the sails and allow extra time if the wind died…….!

We left Guadeloupe on Easter Monday, checking out using the on-line system from a shop in the centre of town.   It was very simple, but a little frustrating that we had to complete the exact same form as when we’d arrived with no ability to just access the original form and update our departure details.    Anyway, with the risk of being called a whinging pom, the system was much better than others we have experienced so I won’t knock it!

Just before 8am we hoisted our mainsail and sailed off the mooring buoy, with Zen Again closely following behind us.   It had been windy in the anchorage for two days and, once we were away from the shelter of the islands, the wind and seas picked up and we were soon crashing through the waves making good speed.   Cerulean does love these conditions and gave us a comfortable, if not a little wet, 4hr sail to Dominica.    As we rounded the final headland to Portsmouth, the main anchorage on the island, the wind dropped completely, spun in every direction and then, eventually, arrived with such force we were pushed right over on our side!   We sailed into the wide harbour, negotiating fishing buoys and boats as we tacked towards the town where our friends on Ruffian were already anchored having arrived a few days earlier.    We were welcomed to the bay by some helpful guides who suggested we pick up a mooring buoy, but on hearing we had engine issues, gave us “permission” to drop the anchor close to a fishing jetty. The bay was surrounded by tall hills covered in beautiful thick forest with the small colourful houses of Portsmouth strung out along the waters edge.    Ever since planning our time in the Caribbean, Dominica was top of the list of places we wanted to explore and we were excited about being here, reunited with good friends, knowing that fun adventures lay ahead of us.