10-12.487N
064-39.867W
Docked
Marina Bahia Redonda
Puerto La Cruz
Venezuela
Sunday, December 28
Thank you, Chico.
Thank you for coming, for adding to our lives, for giving us purpose, an
outside view and perspective, a link to family and to friends, a context for
the great Christian holiday.
It was all fun, even the hard times, like the two trips to the airport when
you did not arrive on time, and the challenges of communicating during those
inevitable moments of stress when the lines are not quite right and the tender
is about to be torn apart while John worries about oil pressure and batteries
that are not charging, and trying to lower sail in the middle of the night
while not able even to see or to describe the brakes and winches that must
be brought to bear. We needed your company, and we hope that you needed
ours. You were good to be with, always saying that you are "just happy
to be here."
That fish at the fish restaurant was good, wasn't it, as was our final
dinner in down town Puerto La Cruz. Was it called "El Morocco?" Thanks
to Chichi, we had plenty of good food on board, for a well fed crew is a happy
crew.
You dug in right away. No experience. No training. The overnight to
La Blanquilla was a fine sail, with winds gusting to 25, and us healed to
port continuously, while both John and Chichi fought mal de mer, but you remained
sano and optimistic. That was a fine beach, and a good anchorage. In
other circumstances, you could have spent "two weeks here." Starting
the 100 miles back to Puerto La Cruz was easy and comfortable, until the end,
when the wind kept blowing though we were only several hundred yards from
shore where one expects a little protection. John feels that tension.
John feels all the tension. The possibility that the roller furling
main would not operate nagged and nagged until he decided to fix it under
way, a decision that turned out to be fortuitous as that wind kept attacking
our little 45 foot craft. Imagine where that sail would have gone had
we been required to take it down by hand.
The last 50 miles, from the west coast, Margarita, anchorage, near Boca
de Pozo, was, at first, ideal sailing, with good winds on the beam, but that
resource said good bye about noon, and we had to access the diesel tank
for the last twenty miles to Chimana Grande and its southern anchorage, Cienaga.
On arrival, John felt he deserved peace, but nature did not acquiesce.
Instead, she gave us a bottom unfit for a six foot draft, a bottom
at one moment 40 feet, the next 7 feet, all within 50 yards. How many
times did we anchor? Two? Three? We don't remember,
and, fortunately, we no longer care, because peace arrived when the deed was
done.
Thank you for a fine Christmas Day, Chico, for your gifts, and for the gifts
you brought from others. Your companionship was important and cherished.
And the little adventures weren't bad either, like the trip to the
fishing village, the songs of the fishermen, their good will and hospitality,
followed by the dinghy ride around the point to the busy public beach, where
a snack of fish and rice held us over until dinner.
Next day, it was hard for John to say "time to leave," but it had to be
done. It was even harder on him when the oil pressure gauge showed
no pressure and the batteries showed no charge, when the fuel dock was busy
for almost an hour forcing us to hold position in the channel, when the dingy
wanted to get in the way going in, and when it wanted to stay when we were
going out. Arnaldo and his assistants got us through the rest, giving
us a comfortable birth for the night and a secure feeling as we went to dinner.
at El Morocco.
This was good for us. The oldest son, the leader, the honchosito,
the future physician, the father, the friend. That's you.
Sunday, December 14
Sailors look for adventure, on land and off. Long successive hot
days working in a Marina, handcuffed to the boat by its peculiar needs, or
by the needs of a hired hand (such as Juan Carlos, age 23, two kids, 5 months
and two years, who waxed our hull over four strenuous days) dampen the spirit,
and make us wonder what this trip is all about. In addition to Dr.
Guy's famous rum punch, sailors have two solutions to the problem of increasing
tedium as the inactive days roll by, adding a pound or two of shoulder weight
each day. The first solution is to socialize with other sailors. The
second is to seek adventure on land.
We have no trouble socializing, using Guy's wonder medicine to loosen
the tongue. We've had delightful times with Susan and Paul from California,
with Wendy and Richard from London, and with Jochen and Anne who honored
us by having a good bye dinner on Germania. (They are off to
Tortuga, Los Roques and Bonaire.)
Getting away on land is another matter. The local urban area is
busy, and well served by bus and taxi, but, it is a city. The big
trips require plane tickets: Angel Falls, Merida , The Orinoco. We
don't have time for those yet. What to do? OK. Let's go
to the airport at Barcelona, rent a car for three days, and see what happens.
Something always does. Something did.
Yesterday, we headed east along the coast, almost missing a sign to "Los
Altos." We took the turn, climbed 900 meters, and found ourselves in
a charming, quiet, pollution free, friendly village, with only a couple of
places to go. The first place was the restaurant El Petit. The
second was the Posada Montana Vista. In these, we struck it rich. With
not a mast in sight, no sailors to entertain, but with plenty of vegetation,
birds, monkeys, horses, and nice people, we found heaven, time just to ourselves
to read and to relax. Lunch at El Petit was plesant--more than pleasant.
What to do next? We parked under a tree and took the afternoon
siesta, waking to the question: shall we stay here tonight. A
quick look at La Posada Montana Vista confirmed the decision. Nice
rooms, a relax area with hammocks, sounds of birds, good service, good food,
and a manager who solved our biggest problem by lending sweaters to both
of us. (Nine hundred meters makes a difference.)
Current boat jobs: hull waxed, forward head leaks, remove rust spots,
charge the hand held radio, satellite phone and spotlight, provision for
the two weeks with Chico who arrives Wednesday, change light switches, drink
a lot.
Come on Chico. We need you. We need another new adventure
on the sea.