August 04, 2005
Irene?
We are watching the new Tropical Depression 9 located in the mid-Atlantic. HERE is the link to the National Hurricane Center.
Posted by dave at 05:59 PM | Comments (0)
June 20, 2005
Stupid Busted Bow Thruster
The day started simply – scrambled eggs, toast, coffee, etc. Still here in the glorious Exuma Cays Land & Sea Park, we heard that the ranger station on the far side of the island had internet. Yesterday, we had tried to hike the west (leeward) coast, and after an hour we saw the ranger station, which looked to be another 50 miles away. We decided to abandon the hike given the sweltering heat and terrain. We returned to the comfort of Platina.
You would think that the Bahamas, flat and wind-blown as they are, would be an easy hike. Oh, no, no, no! Limestone cliffs, coral reefs, poisonous trees. It was exhausting! And that’s a lot to be said for the relatively fit Platina crew.
Albert and Linda from “Bonnie” told us that it was easier to dinghy to the fourth beach up the windward side of the island, then walk across to the ranger station on the other side. So, around 11am, we set off in the dinghy. We hit the wide open Atlantic Ocean complete with big swells, found what we thought was the fourth beach, scattered with big pointy rocks, and decided that Dave’s white knuckles and pale complexion were a pretty good indication that this was not turning out to be a great idea. We abandoned attempt number two and turned around.
Inspired by the treachery of the waters, Dave decided this was a great time to inspect the bow thruster, which we had busted on our arrival. Donning snorkel gear, away he went. Bad idea. The tidal current was strong (full moon and summer solstice) and soon enough we had the mooring line tightly wrapped around the bow thruster again. After unwrapping it, and thoroughly exhausted fighting the current, Dave returned to the swim ladder to take a break. Chis was terrified at the speed Dave was swept to the swim ladder, and was hollering at him to get out of the water. He would have, except that his right pinky finger became painfully lodged in one of the ladder rungs. It seemed that in the current the finger would be lost. Careful maneuvering, and the poor little thing was freed.
We poured stiff drinks, swore at the bow thruster, and decided to wait for Ft Lauderdale to have it repaired.
Posted by dave at 07:24 AM | Comments (0)
June 18, 2005
N24.2 W76.3 Warderick Wells Cay, Exuma Cays Land & Sea Park
About 10 miles from Warderick Wells Cay, we called the park on the VHF radio to request a mooring (no anchoring in the park). They assigned us #3 in the south mooring field.
The cut is very difficult to find, and without our electronic charts we doubt we ever would have found it. As we entered through the cut, “Bonnie” called us on the radio to offer some advice. He asked if we could turn 53 feet of boat around in a narrow channel. We would have to pick up the mooring facing into the current, which was running north against us. No problem. Dave bragged on the radio about our bow thruster. Chis was on the bow with the boat hook, ready to pick up the mooring. Dave spun the boat around and put it right over the mooring. So close, that the mooring pennant was swept under the boat by the strong current, and proceeded to wrap itself neatly around the bow thruster. At least twice.
Albert from “Bonnie” hopped in his dinghy, and tied a second line to the mooring to secure us from drifting. Dave popped on snorkeling gear and went under the boat to unwrap the pennant from the bow thruster. The current was so strong, he could barely swim against it, with fins on. Successfully unwound from the pennant, Chis suggested we check the bow thruster for damage. Sure enough, the propeller was gone. Stupid bow thruster.
Dave will never brag about the bow thruster again.
We invited Albert, his partner, Linda, and their friend Gary, over to Platina for a couple of drinks at sundown. Lovely people, very helpful. We hope to stay in touch.
The south anchorage (where we are) was allegedly a hangout for pirates. Several small cays carry their names. Teach Rock after Edward Teach (Blackbeard), Ready Rock and Bonney Rocks (named after Mary Read and Anne Bonney, two female pirates of dominant character who wore men’s clothing).
With no fishing in the park, the snorkeling is excellent. At mooring #9 in the north anchorage, there is a burnt sailboat on the bottom, now home to a friendly 5-foot nurse shark. Bubba is a 4-foot barracuda that hangs around under boats and feeds on leftovers. Boo Boo is a 4-foot lemon shark and his 5½ foot brother Harbor Master have taken up residence in the harbour.
Posted by dave at 01:55 PM | Comments (0)
May 24, 2005
N17.6 W66.2 Salinas, Puerto Rico
Salinas was reported as the best place on the island for supplies. Lacking charts for the Dominican Republic, we headed for this area, which has a good reputation for hurricane holes. This we had to see. The holes are shallow muddy bottom holes in the mangroves, where the idea is to careen your boat into the mud, drop at least two anchors, and tie into the mangroves. Apparently, it works; we hope never to find out.
We dropped anchor just outside the hurricane holes, and headed in to get our charts.
That evening, we were hit by a series of heavy squalls and thunderstorms where the wind shifted from the east to the west, and then back. Of course, the boat points into the wind and we swung on the anchor. We knew the bottom shelved quickly to the beach, but we had no idea that the heavy winds during the storms would blow us so close. The depth sounder read 0.3 metres under the keel, and we started to take in anchor chain until it read 1 metre. Satsifed, we went to sleep, planning a very early departure.
In the morning, the depth sounder read 0.0 metres. We turned on the engine, and started to take up chain. We didn’t move. Not an inch. We dinghyed a second anchor off the right side into deeper water, and using our biggest winch, began to grind ourselves sideways off the sand shelf. We didn’t budge.
We called the Coast Guard, asking for assistance with a tow. After several minutes on the radio with them, responding to their 30 questions like “Are there any injuries?”, “Are you leaking fuel or oil?”. All boats are legally required to monitor VHF Channel 16 in the case of a distress call. Thank goodness. On anchor in the harbour, Bear Necessities called us to say he would come and tow us off the shelf. Truly amazing. He arrived 15 minutes later, along with the local Policia. The Policia were checking on us, friendly guys, drug squad. Bear Necessities tossed us a line, which we wrapped on our biggest deck cleat, and after 3 or 4 tugs, we were loose. Halleluiah! He wouldn’t take a thing for helping us, but we chatted for a few minutes on the radio, exchanged email addresses, and he asked only that we help someone in need, when the time comes. No problem!
The kindness of strangers!
One of the values we ascribe to is to always do the right thing, even if we don’t want to. We believe that by doing so, the great Creator, or guardian angel, or our destiny, will take good care of us. Every day, we remind ourselves of this. It has become more important to us now than ever before.
Posted by dave at 11:27 AM | Comments (0)
April 24, 2005
N18 W63 Simpson Bay, Sint Maarten
We left St Kitts with the full knowledge that we could experience squalls and thunderstorms, but also knew that we had seen the worst of it (yesterday, it rained without pause, with thunderstorms and high winds). We had a good sail under south winds (rare in these parts). About 2 miles from St Maarten, the squall hit us. We could see it coming, turned on the engine, took in some of the sails and waited it out. Finally, it ended, and we changed into dry clothes.
The marina we were heading for was inside a lagoon under a swing bridge that opens 3 times a day. We were early for the last opening, so we anchored in the bay outside the lagoon and waited. It was like riding a hobby horse. There was no protection from the south swells (normally the bay would have been protected in an east wind, which is 99% of the time).
Then, the second squall. This time, it wanted to move VERY slowly. And rain VERY hard. So hard, we couldn’t see the bridge. We could see boats starting to move for the bridge, so we followed. A pilot boat from the marina found us and told us to follow him into the lagoon. We did. We tied up at the dock, and the rain stopped, of course.
It took 2 days to dry everything out. Our fingers and toes are still prunes.
Sint Maarten is divided down the middle between the northern French part (St Martin) and the southern Dutch part (Sint Maarten). There is an unsubstantiated story that rather than fight over the island, a Frenchman, with a bottle of wine, walked in one direction, and a Dutchman, with a flask of gin, walked in the other direction. Where they met became the boundary. The French got a little bit more, apparently because the gin was stronger than the wine.
Posted by dave at 12:41 PM | Comments (0)
April 20, 2005
French Navy Ship Intercepts Platina
We were motor-sailing along the coast of Guadeloupe and we saw a battle ship in the distance, criss-crossing, so we thought that they were doing some sort of exercise. Then they seemed to be racing towards us, and when they were about a kilometer away, we heard, on the VHF radio, “pa-mumble, zis iz franche Naval Ship mumble…” We thought that they COULDN’T POSSIBLY be speaking to us. Then we heard it again, but this time there was impatience in zi voice. We got on the VHF and asked if they were talking to us…and they were. They said that they wanted to board us.
Suddenly a black zodiac dinghy appeared and came speeding towards us with about 8 soldiers (Dave believes that there must have been about 50…) in fatigues, toting machine guns. As they got closer, we could see that they could talk to, and hear each other, using tiny, in-the-ear, electronic communications equipment. Of course, they were all big and mean looking. And, of course, they could not speak English.
They pulled along side Platina, and after rapid French mumbling, through their special communications equipment, one of them said, “zis iz a standerd prosseedure. We want to bored yur bot.” How polite, to ask before you storm.
As soon as we said, “yes”, they scrambled aboard. Two entered the cockpit; four others stayed on our port- and starboard-decks, hugging their machine guns while they maintained a vigilant look-out. One of them was relaying information back to the war ship, “we boarded the boat; there are two men; we have entered the cockpit; one of them has gone below to get their boat papers; he has returned with the boat papers; we are in possession of their boat papers; we are in possession of their passports…”. Meanwhile, the naval ship kept circling us, in smaller and smaller circles. They asked a bunch of questions about which ports we had recently visited which ports and countries we plan to visit, whether we plan to take on passengers etc.
They were very polite. When they spoke to Dave, they assumed that he could understand them. One of them asked him if he was “that famous stockbroker guy from America”, and Dave just stared back. Chis jumped in and said that Dave is a famous financier, but only in Toronto. Once they knew that we are live-aboard and that the boat is new and from France, and that we had just sailed her across the Atlantic, they became almost friendly.
We had a détente.
If only George Bush could be so lucky.
After a bunch of note-taking and more secret-communication mumbling, they scrambled off Platina, boarded their high-speed zodiac, and disappeared. We wanted to take a photo, but thought that military prison in Guadeloupe would be quite uncomfortable. Just another day in the lives of Chis and Dave.
Posted by chis at 03:20 PM | Comments (0)
March 02, 2005
If It Wasn’t So Terrifying, It Would be Funny.
On the Atlantic Ocean crossing between Lanzarote, Canary Islands and Saint Lucia, we awoke one morning (or night?) warm under the duvet, for our 3-hour watch. We could hear the pitter-patter of the rain on the deck above us. It was a cozy feeling, and we were very happy to be alive. Chis heard Sam, our First Mate, tell Ed, our Skipper, that she had seen lightening. Lightening is not a good thing when you are the only thing for hundreds of miles, with 2 masts saying “I just dare you”. On his way to the cockpit to offer some help, Chis found that it was raining in the galley, through the open companion way. The water was everywhere. All over the chart table, the log book, everything. He caught a glimpse of lightening out of the corner of his eye, and looked up at Sam in the cockpit. She was drenched from head to toe. She made Chis think of Little Red Riding Hood with her foul weather gear, with a duck beak hood. She was trying to steer the boat, in very rough seas, through the windshield that was solid rain. Trying to figure out if the lightening was getting closer, the entire crew began to shut off all of the electronic equipment. Sam started to steer by the compass. We survived the ordeal with no damage to Platina or her crew.
Except that we did discover that the latch that keeps the microwave door from opening in heavy seas really does nothing at all. The eggs, that we had so cleverly stored there, came flying out and scrambled on the floor during the storm.
Posted by chis at 10:59 PM | Comments (0)