February 2004
 

17-58.327N
067-02.336W

Docked

Club Nautico de La Parguera
La Parguera
Puerto Rico

Wednesday, February 18

At 4 a.m. the other morning, we looked up, forward and aft, seeing simultaneously for the first time in our lives both Ursa Major and The Southern Cross, sailors' two most important friends, and both low in the skies.

John has been aware of Ursa Major all his life, though only recently learning that two of its stars point directly to The North Star, itself the last star in Ursa Minor.  Chichi has been aware all her life of the Southern Cross, routinely visible from all points in Bolivia. However, neither of us has seen both at the same time, and we rarely have seen The Southern Cross because even at our present low latitude it is visible only a few weeks a year, and not always during normal waking hours.  So, this vision was special, a good omen.

We left Porlamar last Thursday, motoring most of the way around Margarita, past Los Islas Frailes, and on to open waters, where we began to feel the strong winds, for most of the trip about 20 knots from the east, north east.  Our goal had been to arrive at Culebra, one of the Spanish Virgin Islands to the east of Puerto Rico.  Another Spanish Virgin Island is Vieques, politically hot the last few years as Puerto Ricans protested U.S. Navy target practice at that location.  But, Pachamama did not want to point to Culebra.  So, we aimed for Salinas to the west, finding that even that course was difficult, probably impossible without motor.  Pachamama seems very resistant to sailing closer than 45 or 50 degrees to the wind.  She slows down if we push her too hard that way.  Anyway, John was surprised.  We thought that the the east northeast wind would give us an easy romp to Culebra.  We forgot three  important facts.  First, the apparent wind always is forward of the true wind.  Pachamama, therefore, was feeling a wind perhaps  north east or north north east.  Second, the west setting current, perhaps 1 knot north of Margarita and a half knot south of Puerto Rico, pushed us away from our goal.  We also forgot Pachamama's own desires.  Our decision was to follow the gods, accept the situation, and to land at Ponce, Puerto Rico's second largest city, about half way west along the southern coast.

We did the 420 nautical miles in less than three days, using motor less than 5 % of the time.  Never before have we sailed so far 100 % with wind power.  At points, we were thrilled.  At others, exhausted by the constant heal and the nerve racking surges when wind gusts went to 22-27, inevitably at night when everything seems mysterious and scary.  Seldom was our speed less than 6 knots, sometimes almost 8, and the same current that was pushing us away from Culebra gave us an added push forward.  

Four times on this trip we hove to.  This technique removes heal and gives relative stability while crew rests, prepares meals, takes showers, whatever.  The maneuver is simple.  While sailing on a starboard tack (sails to port), the helm is turned sharply to windward, bringing the sails to starboard.  However, the port genoa sheet remains secured, forcing the genoa to back wind.  As soon as the bow comes through the wind, the helm is turned all the way to windward and secured.  The effect is that the genoa forces us in one direction, the helm in the other, and we almost stop moving, except for leeward movement caused by wind and current.  These one to two hour respites were good for our souls.

We sailed the entire trip with two reefs in the main (up about 50 % of mast height) and more than two reefs in the genoa (about 60 % showing), and full stay sail.  The toughest challenge was adapting our bodies to the constant heal, and to tension at night caused by occasional healing to port so sharp that the toe rail was under water.  Another event prompting humility and apprehension was discovery that our genoa sheet was almost 50 % shafted.  We cannot imagine what life would be like if that sheet separated under load, leaving the genoa to flap wildly out of control.  Our guess is that the genoa itself would suffer great damage in only a few minutes.  Let's not think about it.

We almost cost ourselves $5,000 in Ponce, forgetting than an arriving ship should call U.S. Customs immediately, a nice requirement for full crewed yachts and ships, but tough for a tired twosome without an on board telephone.  Luckily, we discovered later in the day that our Sprint cell phones work here just as in the United States.  We made the call Monday morning, visited Customs, purchased a $25 sticker, and were on our way, with the officer saying "you really owe $5,000, but I am a nice guy."  Hmmmm.

Our second phone call was to Dr. Nini Bermudez, a friend from Indianapolis, who answered on the second ring.  She is a physician, and her husband, A.B., is a retired engineer who worked for The Asphalt Institute in our fair town.  They have a home in La Parguera, and access to a marina.  We did not think more than five minutes to decide that our time in Puerto will be enhanced by these friends.  So, on Tuesday, we sailed here.  A.B. and Nini came out to meet us in their fishing boat, then guided us through the very narrow reefs.  Nice People.  A few beers and an evening meal with them made us feel totally at home here on The Enchanted Island.





10-157.143N
063-49.818W

Anchored
Porlamar, Margarita, Venezuela

Tuesday, February 10


The Long Wait


The Caribbean Sea is usually calm and predictable.  In most months, seas run 4-8 feet, with steady trade winds from the east, having a northerly bias in the winter months, and a southerly bias in other months.  Wind speeds usually are 15-20 this time of year. Our goal had been to spend three days here, resting and preparing for the four to five night trip to The Spanish Virgin Island, Culebra, just east of Puerto Rico.  The trip north should  be steady and easily managed. The course is about 345 true, giving us a nice beam reach if the wind is east or slightly north of east.   Many people believe that a beam reach is the most comfortable point of sail, producing a steady ride and a moderate heal.  Offshore conditions were acceptable in most of January. In fact, Pilot Charts indicate that seas over 8 feet are known less than ten percent of the time in February.   But it was not to be for us.

From the moment we planned a departure date, nothing has worked in our favor.  The Atlantic high has moved a bit south, and a low over South America has been a bit north, producing a sharper than average pressure gradient and consequently higher winds, predicted consistently to be 20-25 knots.  Sea heights have been predicted at least 8 feet, and sometimes as high as 13 feet.  Doable, but not fun.  So, we wait, go the mall and to movies.  Eat and drink with friends.  Process business over the phone and internet. We are doing just fine, trying always to remain patient, and to accept that our sailing comfort is more important than our schedule.

We left Puerto La Cruz January 31 in company with our friends aboard Eriu, Gerry and Lynne, mentioned in January.  They suggested we spend a night in Oculto, a marvelously isolated bay, then move up to Cubagua, location of the first known European settlement in these Americas.  Columbus saw the island, and pearl freaks soon followed.  From Cubagua, we sailed to Porlamar, presuming a departure to Puerto Rico only a few days later. The trip to Cubagua and then to Porlamar was a fairly stiff  beat, giving us in just a few hours one of the saltiest boat decks we have had.  A solid rain three nights after anchoring took all that away, much to our relief, because salt is hard on the feet, hard to keep from below, and generally a pain as it eats into our stainless steel.

That's it, folks.  Nothing more to say.  Stay tuned.  We hope that our next report is from Puerto Rico, and not too long from now.