May 2007
 


12-34.626N
081-41.549W

Anchored
Island of San Andres

Sunday, May 28

15 knot easterlies made our 55 mile trip from Providencia fast and uneventful.  A problem was that the autopilot locked in an out.  It is designed to stop working anytime we are more than 20 degrees off course for 20 seconds.  We think that the underlying problem was that sails were not balanced, that Pachamama could not quickly recover from a big wave.  Another aspect of sailing we had forgotten.

A scooter ride around San Andres took us to a lovely restaurant on the east side and to an even lovelier spot on the west side call Piscinita, a section of coast enclosed like a swimming pool, complete with fish and photographers to record your relationship with the fish.

Fun island, but too quiet for us.  Tomorrow, on to Pachamama's home for a couple of months, Bocas del Toro.


13-22.732N
081-22.393W

Anchored
Island of Providencia

Friday, May 19

Tuesday, Chris Parker said a cold front was headed our way.  We thought about leaving Vivarios, but found enough wind on the nose to make us head back.  Three knots of forward motion just isn't that much fun.  So, we waited.  About 2 a.m. Wednesday morning, the fireworks started, the rain came down, the boat pulled on its anchor, changed its lie, and made us generally miserable as the cold front passed.  From then on, the wind was west, and we had no protection.  With little sleep, we headed out at first light, making 6 or 7 knots over the ground.  Lots of fun, with the wind on our starboard stern quarter.  But we were tired.

John went to bed at 1 a.m. Thursday night, with Pachamama making five or six knots toward Providencia.  At that rate, we would make it by 10 a.m. Friday.  T'weren't to be.  When he got up at four, we were making two knots, and would not arrive in Providencia until after dark.  A current had grabbed us and told us "we don't want you to make good time."  For the next hours, John tried to find some formula, some tack that would give us speed in the water with the following wind while still making a direct line to our destination.  Dummy, it was not until 6 or later that he figured out the obvious.  The only way to do it was to swing the boom out as far as possible, secure it with a preventer, and put the boat on the correct heading.  And he was tired.

We arrived yesterday at 1430, still tired.  Our bodies, well, let's just say no human would relish being within ten feet of us.  Perspiration, salt, sun screen, you name it, we had it.  Then, just as John had removed all his clothes in preparation for a shower in the cockpit, up comes the boarding crew, the bureaucrats from Providencia who write something on the products of fallen trees, then put those products in a drawer, never to be seen again.  Today, we are fine, and ready to explore.



15-50.080N
083-17.036W

Anchored
Los Grandes Cayos Vivarios

Tuesday, May 16

The Hermit of Vivarios Cays

Armando, from Guanaja, in his large cayuco, with portable blue sail, visited us immediately on arrival here Saturday, as we were told he would.  He wanted rum or beer.  We wanted our rum and beer.  He got tequila, later complaining that it did not sit well on his stomach.  Poor fellow.

Armando is a cross between Bob Marley and Alex Guy.  Lots of hair on the face, very trim and erect,  big smile, conveying a type of warmth, somewhat offset by odd habits, perhaps the symptoms of someone slightly retarded.  He spends three months here, alone, every year.  The other months we believe he works on a Guanjan fishing vessel.  While here, he was friendly, but not so when we dinked to his home, a mound of sand, grass, and 33 palm trees.  Walking across this cay takes 5 minutes.  Walking around it takes less than 15.  He now seemed distant, stand offish, as though he did not welcome our presence in his home.  I guess I don't blame him.  A man's home is sacred. Though totally alone, he has a portable battery radio for listening to Honduran soccer games, a 15 foot VHF antenna housed in a shack whose roof is geared to catch and to direct rain into large barrels.  The first day, he promised us lobsters, but on the second day he stopped by to say that he could not find lobsters.  We thought we had been had, that the four ounces of tequila were for naught.  Then, yesterday morning, he brought us two lobsters (and asked for a soda).  From all appearances, this is a happy life for him.

On arrival, we saw s-v Liberty, and invited Tom and Nancy for cocktails.  Later, two other boats came in.  One was single handed by Darrel.  The other was a couple and two children, she from Trinidad, he American.  The boat was Calisto, manned by Selma, but the names of the others did not make it to our mental hard disks.    

We stuck our nose out this morning, soon changing our minds as a 12 knot wind out of 140 reduced our speed to 3 knots, with dark clouds everywhere.  We turned around and again anchored, in the rain.  Chris Parker tells us that a front is passing through, that the wind will clock south, then west, then north, giving us a light tail wind for an overnight to Providencia.  


16-26.505N
085-53.488W

Anchored
Near Guanaja Settlement
Island of Guanaja, Bay Islands
Honduras

Thursday, May 11

We fear the sea.  This is not the fear of darkness or of events in a scary movie.  Instead, it is a tiredness, a knowledge that the next chapter could be tough.  We always have known that the trip from Guanaja to Vivarios would be the most challenging, because the course is 110 degrees and the prevailing winds vary from 080 to 110.  This week, the winds have been over 20 knots.  We could make the trip, but not comfortably.  We would be constantly tired and wet.  They don't call up wind sailing "beating" for nothing.  

So we wait.  This morning, we were ready to go.  We asked Chris Parker about the winds.  He could sense we were ready.  At the end of the conversation he said, " you know, John.  Tomorrow is a better day, because seas will drop from 4 feet to three. Darn, I had not thought about sea state.  He did us a good turn, and we wait until tomorrow.

Last night, too, was a wake up, literally.  About 11 p.m., in bed, John sensed something amiss.  What caused this suspicion?  We don't know.  He went to the cockpit, and found us almost 100 yards back from where we had anchored.  We were dragging anchor in winds that might have been over 25.  Motor on.  Foredeck light on.  Anchor light on.  Chichi up.  Raise the anchor (now in 60 feet).  Move forward, in the dark, not quite sure where.  We dropped it again in 12 feet, and let out 120 feet, ten to one. Twenty minutes later we were secure, with the anchor alarm turned on, as it should have been earlier.  The anchor snubber felt like steel.

We spent a day or two in another anchorage called El Bight.  Next door was a natural friend.  A Cabo Rico 38, like ours, but shorter.  We remember the name as Skywacket, run be George and Laura, who are returning north to the states, having been out more than 7 years.  


Sunday, May 7

Friends, worth everything.

Jochen and Anne Schweizer contributed more to our continued sailing experience than anyone we know.  We met them on The Delaware River, convoyed with them from Newport to Bermuda to St. Marten, and met them frequently over those early months, the time we wanted to quit sailing.  They helped to keep us going.  And there they were . . . .

After uneventful trips from Puerto Escondido to Utila, then to Roatan, we slowed as we found our way into French Cay Harbor, and an unknown dinghy comes at us at high speed, piloted by a fellow who looks remarkably like actor Richard Harris, with a broad rim sailing hat and a big smile:  Jochen, to guide us to the anchorage, next to their boat Germania.  As we anchored and settled in, they waited for our invitation to come over.  The friendship was renewed amidst abrazos and beer.

Other fine friends were waiting too:  Cheri and Sandy Billings on Namiste', whom we had met in Monkey Bay Marina.  It was like returning to a comfortable village.  A week of lots of meals and good times, including a drive to the east end of the island, gave us more fine memories, offset, as always, by departure and separation.  When we pulled out of French Cay Harbor Friday morning, Jochen and Anne were on deck, waving, offering us the tribute of friendship.  We hope we see them often (and we agreed to meet when we are age 80, maybe have condos near each other).  (Old softy cried as he steered our way out.)

Our movements between islands are controlled by wind.  The Honduran coast runs east west, forcing us to sail east, into the trade winds, before turning south around Nicaragua toward Panama and/or Colombia.  Our next hop is to Los Cayos Vivarios, 105 degrees.  For this week, all week, high winds are predicted from 110.  So, we sit, and wait.  Lighter winds from 090 must be here somewhere.  Nevertheless, this 30 hours trip will be the toughest of this chapter.

Roatan is growing its tourist capabilities with a fine airport, new ferry terminal and excellent resorts.  The Fantasy Island Resort, at $75 a night per person, is excellent.  Down the way, other resorts, vacation home and condominium developments, are appearing. We stopped at Parrot Tree for lunch.  An American sales manager showed us one of the Condos, about $375,000, clean, luxurious, wide open, wonderful.  Annual costs are about $4,000 for the association, and another $2,000 for Honduran taxes.  

Guanaja is not geared for tourists.  Its primary activity is fishing, boats out at least nine months a year, continuously.  All the boats are in now, the off season, and cooks like Miguel, who helped us load 50 gallons of water, have little to do.  The only business location here, and the home of most residents, is The Guanaja Settlement, on an island so small you can cover it in any direction in less than 15 minutes, walking slowly.  Homes and businesses are jammed together.  Passage ways are like two sidewalks side by side. Hence, no cars.  We are anchored in a commercially active area, near The Texaco Station.  After perhaps seeing a football game today at The Airport Stadium, we will go to El  Bight, a mile away, for a quieter experience.

John continued his winning ways fixing things.  The Link 20 Battery Monitor went blank.  He fixed it by turning it off, then on.  We loaded water yesterday, and added oil Mighty Gen (the diesel engine).

International phone calls are becoming more economical.  At a Cybercafe here, we were charged about 6 cents a minute to say hello to Laura and to Alex.  Laura has set her wedding date:  September 22, 2007.  Mixing cultures, she is having an Irish theme at The Scottish Rite Cathedral.  Guests from Bolivia, Germany and Indiana will further stir the pot.