November 2003
 

10-28.694N
064-11.098W

Docked
Marina Cumanagoto
Cumana, Venezuela

Sunday, November 30

Our arrival in Margarita last week was blessed by dolphins, a family that welcomed us during the last thirty minutes before anchoring.  They swam under and around the bow, appearing to play by continuously rolling over, like puppies wanting a pet to the stomach.

Jochen and Anne Schweizer (see frequent references in earlier commentaries) were waiting.  They directed us to an anchor spot just 100 yards off their bow, then provided both the hugs and the drinks needed for us to calm down, to relax, to get ready for a new adventure.  As the week rolled on, we visited Asuncion and Juan Griego, as well as parts of Porlamar and Pompatar.  Pachamama and Germania left Porlamar Sunday for Isla Coche, about four hours, where we anchored off the new hotel.  Chichi spent the entire day, Monday, on the beach, in the hotel, relaxing, swimming, reading, and just being her wonderful self.  Meanwhile, Germania went to another island, Cubagua, about two hours west.  We departed early Tuesday from Isla Coche at the same time Germania departed from Cubagua, both of us heading for Laguna Grande in El Golfo de Cariaco, about 40 miles.  This large bay is quiet, desert like, with a small fishing village, and dry but beautifully colored hills.  It is a place for isolation and quiet reflection.
Unfortunately, Anne arrived with a very bad back.  Wednesday, we got on the amateur radio net, and soon talked with a  U.S. Coast Guard flight surgeon who told us how much of which pain killer to use.  Anne suffered most of Wednesday, and part of Thursday, but she valiantly made the short dinghy ride to Pachamama for turkey, mashed potatoes, corn, green beans, stuffing and gravy, not to mention wine.  We had a fine meal, with fine friends.  This was the most isolated Thanksgiving we ever have experienced, and a bit sad.  By amateur radio, we talked to Chico and to Alex, but we could not reach Laura or Cindy.  

Friday, John had to send an important fax.  We left early, saying what we hope is a brief good bye to Germania.  Anne wanted another day or two before leaving, and we learned by radio yesterday that she is getting better, and that they will meet us again in Puerto La Cruz.

We arrived in Cumana mid day, an operation that required seven persons handling different lines because the 30 knot wind wanted to take charge of our boat.  John sent the fax, and we then had a fine lunch, and met friendly people.  Cumana is the capital of the state of Sucre.  It is a busy town, with street vendors of all sorts and taxis everywhere.  (A taxi to town cost $1.00.)  

Our moods this week have been volatile.  With Thanksgiving around the corner, a certain loneliness in the islands, Anne's bad back, then Chichi's bad back, we seemed to drop low, then rise high during an activity like eating turkey or exploring.  A good part of our attention now is planning for the arrival of Chico, December 17.  We look forward to spending days alone with him, without outside pressures, especially the pressure for him to pass medical school examinations.  This might be the last time we will be able to spend time just with him, because medical school will consume more and more of his attention.  We will meet him in Puerto La Cruz, the "yachting capital" of Venezuela, where many boaters seek major repairs, or leave their boats for the hurricane season.

In a couple of hours (about noon), we will leave Cumana to spend one or two nights in Mochima National Park, ten miles from here, and 20 miles from Puerto La Cruz.


10-57.044W
063-49.822N

Anchored
Porlamar, Margarita, Venezuela

Tuesday, November 18


Escape-Slow Sailing-Two Invitations-The Motor Stops-Chichi Looses Her Sight


Los Testigos are islands 40 miles off The Venezuelan Coast, perfectly situated as an intermediary stop between Trinidad and Margarita, and between Margarita and Martinique.  From Trinidad, the sail north puts the wind on the starboard beam, then on the stern after the turn west.  A one to three knot current usually gives a boast.  

We started from Scotland Bay, Trinidad,  at 5 p.m. for a relaxing overnighter that turned out just fine, though several hours longer than we planned because the boat moved slowly on the downwind leg.  We slept the afternoon after check in, recovering from the sleepless night.  The next morning we walked along the village beach, greeting everyone in Chichi's favorite language, and earning for ourselves a dinner invitation, 6 p.m. for lobster.  Meanwhile, Chichi brought gifts for the school, and another invitation came forward.  The teacher, Delia, invited us to coffee at 4.  Never before in John's life has he become socially acceptable so quickly.  We also learned that Delia's husband Richard found the fender we lost.  A sailor's rule is that if a knot is not tied perfectly, it will come undone efficiently, quietly, and always with loss.

(From John's perspective, Chichi is the greatest friend gatherer in history.  She walks among the locals, smiling and saying "ola," usually resulting in smiles, hugs, abrazos, and a general good time, not to mention invitations.)

Los Testigos has about 200 residents, apparently all fishermen and their families. Everyone is cousin to somebody near by.  The main village has perhaps 15 homes, electrified  by two diesel generators, and water delivered  in the dry season by tanker.  It has a school, Catholic Church but no full time priest (mass is performed without communion), and an infirmary, plus a post of La Guarda Costa.  We were going to need their help.  Delia provided excellent coffee and conversation while she worked at several hundred jobs. Watching two kids; boiling soup and adding ingredients; making bread; serving us; checking the laundry.  She never stopped moving, except for wonderful moments when she gave us a taste of the soup.  The soup made us want to remain with her, but we had another engagement, five houses down.  Before leaving, Delia's mother came by.  She resembles Senora Quezada, Chichi's Mother who died two years ago.  The encounter brought tears, and a big, comfortable, sincere abrazo.  

We shared dinner with Tainee (not sure about the spelling; it is pronounced Tie Knee with accent on the knee), her husband Augustine, several children, and a neighbor.  We learned that islanders pay no taxes.  Utilities, health care, and schools appear to be provided by the national government, perhaps in support of the ancient art of catching lobsters and moving them to tables in Caracas.  The lobster and lobster salad served us was the best we ever have experienced.  Good laughs and good food made for a wonderful night.

Next day, we returned to the village to leave gifts and to say good bye.  On powering about 15 minutes into the bay, the hot engine warning came on, forcing John to stop the engine.  We were no more than three or four thousand feet from rocks. Rapid deployment of the genoa gave us forward motion and control.  We got back to our original anchorage, the first time we have used wind alone to arrive at a conclusion.  After a couple of hours of investigation, we found that the fresh water cooling system had no water. A small valve had slipped open, permitting it all to run out.  We continued on our way to the neighboring island and its anchorage, Bahia Balandra, where we spent a peaceful night.  

Our goal next day was to hike to the top of the dunes, but we got lost, and on return to the boat Chichi had draconian burning in both eyes.  She could not see at all.  Using a net of amateur radio operators, John made indirect contact with the company that manufactures the insect repellent that probably got in her eyes.  After an hour, however, she got worse, showing symptoms of shock.  John  broadcast for help locally, and La Guarda Costa responded immediately.  Within 15 minutes, a launch carrying a committee of ten, but, most importantly, a doctor, arrived.  The doctor took Chichi to the infirmary, treated her shock, and gave her eye drops.  By the next morning, she was OK.  While lying in the infirmary, our dinner hostess came by to console, and half the town looked in to see the Bolivian Gringa getting first class attention.  This could have happened somewhere else.  It could have happened with no one around.  But, it didn't.  It happened in Los Testigos, where the people are warm and caring, friendly and "abierto."  We love them.  We are grateful.  We will stop there again to express our deep feelings.  And what luck!  A doctor was present, a semi retired Frenchman from Martinique who resides on his boat with his Colombian wife, a nurse.  

Thank you, people of Los Testigos.

We had a pleasant Sunday sail to Porlamar, knowing that on arrival, we would see our best friends on Germania.  More on that, next time.