Lombardi Gras

Samana turned out to not be too horrible when it came to repairs. Granted it was hard to get things and multiple things had to be shipped out, but the next morning when the repairman came over he quickly pulled out the temperature shut off gauge which Dad and Lee had looked for before.


Although that was just problem one. Mom was gotten a hold of and told of the situation. She stayed in Puerto Rico for a while, but was generally getting quite bored. As I was mostly useless to the situation, not to mention in the way, I went to New Orleans. (Ok, it looks like I am abandoning Dad, but he told me I could and I just mentioned my justifications – and I am sticking to them!) I bought a flight on Monday morning, took a Caribe Tours bus (for 300 pesos – just under $10 USD) to Santo Domingo, but unfortunately the airport is 12 kilometers outside of the town. As I was broke and not about to change money again, I start walking. A blond girl walking on a highway does not get far, so I had a nice (read – mildly creepy) elderly man. A free ride is a free ride and I know how to duck and roll. I have a very nice (read – uncomfortable) sleep on the airport benches and was ready to go for my 7 am flight. US Airways now charges for all checked luggage, ugh, so I didn’t check any luggage which was lucky because otherwise I would have missed my connection from Philly to Charleston. An hour and a half is no longer long enough for a layover (as I did the same thing on the return trip an almost missed my connection between Atlanta to Puerta Plata.

I arrive in New Orleans Tuesday night and guess what it is frigid. Where in the world am I supposed to live if I can’t stand a New Orleanian winter? I spent my first day exploring the French Quarter with Dan Haber. We tasted cracklin in the newly refurbished French Market, which finally once again has fresh produce, played the block game, where at each block one of us picks a direction, ate muffalettas at Central Grocery, rode the streetcar and just were tourists. The second day was spent rebonding over beer pong, flip cup, and Celeste’s new amazing LSU invention – the beer rifle at Micha’s house as all of the parades were cancelled.

This pushed all of the parades to Friday, which made for quite an eventful day as Celeste, her sister Josie, and I had to organize our MOM’s Ball outfits. After lots of humming and huffing we came up with Earth, Wind, and Fire. After a day of crafting, literally, a full day of crafting we had our outfits made. I even bought a bedazzler. We managed to make the end parade – one of the best – Muses. Where we were introduced to the Camel Toe Stepper and the 610 Stompers, two of the best dance teams I have ever seen.

Saturday during the day Celeste’s Dad, Freddie, and a lot of our ex-coworkers from Arthur J. Gallagher were riding in the Tucks Parade so we stopped by their float as they were setting up and introduced our bosses to the beer rifle. Gosh I miss that job.


And of course Saturday night was MOM’s Ball. There is nothing you can really say about MOM’s Ball except that it keeps getting better and we keep getting better with it. This year our costume was better, the limo was better, the dancing was better, the body painting was better, and there was Stand Up and Get Crunk.
Wind, Ms. Laurie, Earth, Fire
Sunday had to be a full recovery day which it was. We laid in the sun, we bedazzled, we ate snacks… but then we also had to play some make shift flip cup – because, come on, we went to Tulane.


As is the tradition we made it down to the Howling Wolf for the Sunday night Dumpstafunk show, which means lots of dancing in a grimy warehouse. Exactly what we needed at that point in Mardi Gras – less drinking and more dancing!

This entire time I had been in contact with both Mom and Dad. Dad was getting frustrated with a lazy crew and Mom was getting sick of sitting by herself in Puerto Rico and not knowing what is going on. So after many emails to Dad and phone calls to Mom, it was decided that I would go see a diesel mechanic to discuss our engine problem and Mom made a friend who would give her a ride over the Mona to Samana as they were headed that way. Finally we had a plan. So Monday was spent on the West Bank of New Orleans. I love the looks I get when I walk into machine shops. They expect me to ask for directions, oh no boys, I can talk tools. At one point, the mechanic looked at me and said “so you actually know what you are talking about.” I can’t blame him. I had a flower in my hair and glitter on my face. I didn’t look like the person who mildly understands a diesel boat engine.
This is our engine. Perkins 4108.
This was our whole day event. I have never done Lundi Gras right. I always try to stay up all night and then just die in the morning and miss all of Fat Tuesday. Not this year. We danced at the Goldmine until early morning hours, but then napped before catching St. Ann’s Parade at Mimi’s and then continuing to the tumble where Craig, Celeste, and Uncle Billy were.
GOLDMINE

The tumble ended at the Blue Nile and after an impromptu dinner with Uncle Paul, Celeste returned to Craig’s and I was in bed. Wednesday was all sleeping and getting to see a movie in a real movie theater!!! Something I have missed so much. I love movies in theaters! The next morning I was off and by 2 pm on Thursday I was back in the Dominican Republic. Of course the tourist card man tries to give me ripped American cash (which no Dominican exchange place would take), then the money change place shorts me 30 pesos, then the cab driver tells me it will be $200 USD to get to Samana, then the bus lady says there are no buses until tomorrow, and the motoconcho wants $10 USD to go to the bus station in Sosua. Then I want to punch everyone in the face, but instead I get a diet coke and start walking. As soon as I get to the main highway I see a guagua with “Puerta Plata – Samana” written in big letters across the front. I hail him down. He says “Samana”? I say “Samana”? We both don’t believe the other. Does this gringa really want to go to Samana? Will this guagua really take me to Samana? The answer to both is yes. For 250 pesos (under $7 USD) the guagua takes me all the way to Samana, we even stop for a snack break. I am there by 6 pm and find our dinghy tied up, our boat still on the mooring, and Mom and Dad at the Snack Shop. Back together again and it feels so good.
Day one back on the boat and we really need to test the engine. It is overcast and threatening rain, but there is a national park two hours to the south and we need to test the engine anyway so we go. The park is so beautiful and quaint. Everything is lush and lovely and lonely. We are the only ones there. Pictures never do these things justice, but here are some images of my first day back to the boat. It was perfect.







The next day we head back and as the engine (just barely) passed its overheating test we need to check the weather as it REALLY is time to go to Puerto Rico. We decide on Monday. So we spend Saturday at the Meringue Car Wash (yes dance club slash car wash) and Sunday preparing the boat and provisioning. And Monday – it is TIME FOR THE MONA.

For your consideration - pretty pretty Samana!

Book Reviews for Ms. Anna

(no sailing here, sorry)

It’s Your Boat Too. By Suzanne Giesemann.
I have been only reading Cruising World magazines and this book for quite a while. It seems I have finally fallen in love with sailing and I want to gobble up every little piece of information on it.
Of course I was turned off by the title of this book. A book for woman sailors seems pretty un-feminist. But it is true, most women on boats don’t know anything more than working the galley or tying lines. Not knowing about your engine or even how to tie a bowline knot can be very dangerous if your sailing partner (husband, boyfriend, dad, etc) were to ever fall sick or become injured while sailing. Besides it truly is much more fun and rewarding if you know what you are doing.

So I truly fell in love with this book. It started off very good with statements like – “there is absolutely nothing half so much worth doing as simply messing about in boats” and “nautical arithmetic says that one boat plus one boat equals at least two cocktails and one potluck supper” and finally “attitude: the difference between ordeal and adventure”. Also one that I now use every time the boat breaks “it’s the nature of boats”. It truly is. Nothing is easy on a boat! But the book puts things in a very good perspective such as saying “your number one goal aboard your boat should always be to keep the people on the inside and the water on the outside”. Gosh I feel like this entire entry about the book will just be me quoting the book, because honestly the advice is so good and so concise that each phrase makes you go YEAH!

• Fear is an unnecessary waste of time. – especially on a boat but also in life.
• One of the best ways to keep from falling overboard is to maintain one hand for yourself and one for the boat. – this is how I lost my camera and made a fool of myself on a beautiful catamaran.
• Fear of looking bad can keep you from becoming completely engaged.
• Adventure as something enjoyable that involves participation and an element of risk.
• When you are new to boating, the learning curve goes almost straight up.
• Mother Nature will continually throw pop quizzes to keep you on your toes.
• Always keep a weather eye.
• Anchors know Murphy’s Law.
• Only by taking risks do we grow.

There are so many good quotes and ideas and references that come out of this book. But now that I am off the boat and on to lots of public transportation I finally once again have an opportunity to just read books.

Sense and Sensibility and Sea Monsters. By Jane Austen and Ben H. Winters.
Even better than Pride and Prejudice and Zombies is this book. I really enjoyed the Jane Austen part of this book. I was rather surprised. There was just so much plot. I never knew who was meant to end up together. Not to mention I was obsessed with the sea monster aspect, which in all honesty was worse portrayed than the zombies in the previous book. The Winters part of the book wasn’t fleshed out enough for me, but it was continually intriguing. For some reason after reading these two books I feel I might actually be interested in any Jane Austen, but I may be lying to myself. I very much identified with Elinor as well as Marianne, which usually doesn’t happen. These two girls are very different, yet they work off of each other incredibly well. I was in love with Colonel Brandon from day one, even with his face deformity.
The only problem I found with this book is that I became too enthralled and soon had missed my bus stop and was left in rural Dominican Republic, whoops. I never knew what was going on with the steam on Pestilent Isle, I was unsure of how the destruction of Sub-Marine Station Beta would occur, I though Willoughby and Marianne were a perfect match, etc. Overall I never really knew what would happen next, which is why I liked the book so much. I feel this was as much due to Mr. Winters as it was to Ms. Austen. There was so much confusion as to the various love triangles, I honestly didn’t know where the true love was actually meant to be.

• “… and would forever remember thereafter as the sound emitted by an orangutan when it is run through with a cutlass.” – this is exactly the sillyness that I love and that keeps this story insanely nail biting and intriguing.

Overall, I truly adore both of these adaptations of Jane Austen classics and usually I would quickly forward them to Ms. Schwindt, but I found a 14 year old girl here who loves Jane Austen (maybe almost as much as Anna) so she is getting this as a gift. If you are a fan of Jane Austen or of sillyness – read these books because it is just like a Jay-Z and Bittersweet Symphony mash-up, it holds on to the integrity of the original but adds a level of ridiculousness that just makes you smile. This book makes me smile. Well done Quirk Classics.

The Bell Jar. By Sylvia Plath.
From page one I identify with Esther. She is on the sidelines, the girl who sits in the corner and observes. She wants to see everything, be everything, but yet feels to be nothing. That’s me. Feeling that all of the amazing things you are doing are not quite up to snuff with everyone else, that you are wasting your opportunities and even the things you are good at are not good enough. Until chapter 11 I am sure that Ester and I are complete kindred spirits – then they send her to a psychiatrist. Shit. Of course, someone who I believe is just like me is, invariably, insane. But really, I have always known that I was a bit crazy – it comes from my family, we are all a bit crazy, so it truly makes sense that I do identify with someone who is crazy.

• “I saw my life branching out before me like the green fig tree in the story… I saw myself sitting in the crotch of this fig tree, starving to death, just because I couldn’t make up my mind which of the figs I would choose. I wanted each and every one of them, but choosing one meant losing all the rest, and, as I sat there, unable to decide, the figs began to wrinkle and go black, and, one by one, they plopped to the ground at my feet.” – this is the crisis of the early 20s, its all rainbows and sunshine because yes you do have no responsibilities and a billion opportunities, but these opportunities can be so overwhelming. Every step towards the future is a step out on that one particular branch. It’s scary.
• “The last thing I wanted was infinite security and to be the place an arrow shoots off from [married]. I wanted change and excitement and to shoot off in all directions myself, like the colored arrows from a fourth of July rocket.” – a lovely metaphor for not being able to settle down and wanting it all.
• “And I knew that in spite of all the roses and kisses and restaurant dinners a man showered on a woman before he married her, what he secretly wanted when the wedding service ended was for her to flatten out underneath his feet like Mrs. Willard’s kitchen mat.”

She also is steadfast on her viewpoint of marriage, babies, and men; and these viewpoints happen to be very similar to my own. Other than between chapters 1 and 11, where I adore Ester and identify with her completely, the book is very, very well written. Her relationship with Buddy and knowing that this life with him is one she could have and should have, but in her heart knows she would really hate it. How she copes and recognizes the woman hater Marco. All of her life events are told with such color and vigor and elaborated on in beautiful metaphors.

Overall, the way she tells her story is very poetic (which makes sense because she is foremost a poet). She reads into everyday events that ring true in my mind. Unfortunately, when she goes insane she enters a world of electrotherapy and pain, one I can’t understand or really comprehend. As much as I enjoyed the beginning and her search for identity, it gets cut to short due to her incarceration into an asylum – but it is semi-biographical so I can’t really blame the author for this turn. Read until chapter 11 then stop.

Around the World on Idle.

Close Encounters of Kitesurfers, Whales, and yet another Engineless Semi-Passage

Weather windows: two words that plague the life of a sailor. To get to Puerto Rico we have to cruise (almost) the entire north coast of the Dominican Republic and then cross the Mona Passage which is notorious for its whirlpool waters over shoals and for funneling storms between Puerto Rico and Dominican Republic. Of course all of this is against the prevalent easterly trade winds, which are incredibly strong right now (the Christmas winds). We have been in the Dominican Republic for three weeks and during that time we had only seen one, maybe two, winds to get to Puerto Rico. So between the guidebook, the weather forecasts, the Luperon net, and other cruisers we really had no idea when to leave. Bruce VanSant, thorn less passage guidebook writer and eastern cruising guru, recommends using night lees, where the wind dies down a bit. But overall it really seemed that everyone had conflicted viewpoints on when to go. Or maybe we, ourselves, were just conflicted. The point is moot now, but we ended up leaving Friday morning with Margi heading to Santo Domingo to pick up the Sunday ferry to Puerto Rico.

We also managed to pick up a stray. Chris is a 37 year old guy trying to make it down to the end of the Caribbean, so he hailed us and offered to crew. The man eats like he hasn’t been fed in years, but was incredibly essential in what turns out to be quite a miserable semi-passage. We leave Friday morning at 8 am and are beating into 20 knot eastern winds and northerly swells. The highlight of the day was passing by Cabarete and having the kitesurfers come out and circle the boat.




Around ten hours after we start the engine overheats and has to be killed. We have to start sailing as the engine won’t take much strain. We tack out on a mostly eastern heading which takes us far away from land when we tack back after an almost 4 hour tack we are forced to go almost directly west. We spent most of the day wasting time like this, but we did get to see some big humpback whales leaping out of the water. Finally Saturday night, after a day and a half at sea we get a strong wind which gives us between 4-6 knots with the boat fully reefed. Thank goodness this wind helped us cover some ground, because around 2 am the winds completely died and never came back. Here is our weather window. Here is where we should be motoring across the Mona Passage.

But of course not. The engine now will only run for 20 mins at 1500 RPMs before it overheats. The RPM gauge has also bit the dust and there seems to be some sort of leak in propeller’s stuffing box as the bilge pump is running very frequently. After dealing with fluky winds of 5-9 knots we give up and start using the engine. After it quickly surpasses 180 degrees Fahrenheit (too hot, but not so hot that the buzzer goes off), we pull it down to 700 RPMs and with winds literally at 0-5 knots we continually motor into Samana anchorage. The engine stays hot but doesn’t need to be killed. Unfortunately, since we are only going 2 mph getting into Samana takes all day. What should have been a day long passage (or two nights) has taken us two and a half days of either very strong easterlies or no winds what-so-ever. We considered going back to Puerta Plata or Ocean World or possibly anchoring in Escondido or Sosua, but all of these possibilities would have either caused us to backtrack or be in danger (the anchorages are open to northern swells).
Samana
Dad and Chris going a whopping 2 knots
A great ad for Cruising World
Of course, now we have the problem of fixing the engine. The RPM gauge, the leak in the stuffingbox, and whatever the heck is causing the engine to overheat. Oh also, I forgot the mention, after we had the jib sail recut it began to stick when it is unfurled, so that is another thing that must be repaired. The next problem is finding Margi. As she is in Santo Domingo when we get into Samana and will soon be boarding the 8 pm ferry to Puerto Rico (where we will not be). We have no idea if there is anyone who repairs diesel engines in Samana or even what is in the anchorage there at all. Also, I was supposed to be in New Orleans on Tuesday and we are currently pulling into the anchorage on Sunday night. The final problem is the fact that we are going 2 mph when the New Orleans Saints are in the Superbowl, what a shame we have to be chugging along like this when something epic is happening.

Thus is the nature of boats.

Chris has been a lot of help, except for his loss of one of our winch handles which he knocked overboard as we were raising the main one evening (also, the fact that he eats everything and I have to deal with continuous cigar smoke). But doing two hour shifts then having four hours off has been incredibly helpful, but you usually didn’t get to sleep or sit for all of those four hours off as someone needed to be up with the helmsman to trim the sails. Nevertheless, we made it. We got in just at dusk, meaning we ran the engine on basically idle, getting around 2 knots for almost 12 hours. It was a long, long day. But come around 6 pm we pull into the anchorage in Samana Bay. We circle looking for a slip, but there are none. The area is beautiful with big palms and rolling hills. The city lights the mountainside so it looks like a pile of multicolored stars. It really is a breathtaking anchorage with a mix of both natural and urban landscapes. We get into town and attempt to find a place to change money and eat. After being hassled by Joe, the guy we bought a $5 per night mooring from and who is helping us find a diesel repair man, we settle on a Snack Bar (La Carracho or something like it) which is showing the Superbowl. After three days and two nights at sea, beer, pizza, and the Saints winning the Superbowl really soothed this girl’s heart.

Now all we have to do is #1 fix the engine, #2 find Margi, #3 get Nea to New Orleans, #4 cross the Mona – oh what an eventful few weeks we have coming up!

For your consideration - our last two meals in Luperon. They were pretty great!

Beauty Before Anything Else.

Beauty. It is a word that I use everyday traveling the DR. Sitting in guaguas four persons to a backseat and I realize that I smell the worst, that I look the most disheveled, and everyone else is pristine and fully quaffed. Beauty is their mantra. The people, the vistas, the beaches, the reefs all fit into the DR’s beauty mantra. With a guidebook in hand and a mother as a partner we are ready to set off to see some snip its of this Dominican wilderness.

First is Damajagua. Just south of Imbert (guagua from Luperon to Imbert then a motoconcho to Damajagua) lays one of the most wondrous nature sites I have ever seen. Take shoes, shorts and a change of clothes because there is a lot of climbing to the 27 falls of Damajagua. Our guide, Gabriel, has turned out feet stuffed into worn leather shoes. His ankles bulge like his biceps. He has been playing in the falls since he was a baby. With life vests and helmets on, we make the ascension. The entire time, as we walk literally right up the middle of the waterfalls, I ask - where is the infrastructure? Why don’t they have stairs or trails or something? I soon realize I am looking at it from the wrong viewpoint. Going up is just as fun as going down. With hands clamped either on a rope or on your guides arms you walk up the stone expecting each step to just fly out from under you as the water pounds your ankles. There 27 falls, but we only do 12 of them (310 pesos/$8.85USD per person). The way back down involves 10-15 foot cliff jumps and water slides. Don’t think, just, jump. After three hours of playing in waterfalls, looking at water carved rock formations, floating in the most crystal clear fresh water looking up at the lush forests of the DR.

Waterfalls in the morning… hmmm… what should we do next? A tour of a rum factory, oh yes please. We take a motoconcho back to Imbert and then a guagua to Puerta Plata. With a guide book now I have maps and directions. We head for the Brugal Rum factory, the third largest rum producer in the world (Bacardi is one and Captain Morgan is two). After a short video and a tour of the bottling plant we stop for tasting and, of course, then buying of incredibly cheap bottles of rum. We get a passion fruit rum slushy togo, which is probably one of the best things ever. After a stop at the Amber Museum where we see little lizards encrusted in big hunks of amber and learn how to differentiate fake from real amber (real amber floats) it is time to head home and plan for tomorrow – a trip to the interior.

Mom & I on a Motoconcho to Damajagua!



Dad is off to Puerta Plata or Sosua or Cabarete while Mom and I are off to explore the mountains around Jarabacoa, but not before throws another snag into our plans. I am beginning to think that Departure really does not like it when we leave her. We manage to have spun the prop on our dinghy engine and the only spar we had was to the Mercury that went with the old dinghy. We give the prop to Raphael who plans to put some set screws in place of the ruined rubber. The traveling part takes almost a full day (10 am to 3 pm) as we must go from Luperon to Imbert to Santiago to La Vega to Jarabacoa. Transferring guaguas in big cities while trying to use a language that I have majoratively forgotten is quite hard and stressful, but eventually we make it and as a reward we decide to stay two nights in the Gran Jimenoa Hotel which is about a kilometer outside of town. The perk of this hotel is that it is literally perched over the Jimenoa river. It is a resort with manicured lawns and a restaurant that makes a great duck in wine sauce and an even better milk candy dessert. That isn’t even talking about the assortment of multicolored ranging to neon hued alcoholic beverages.

Our one day in Jarabacoa is spent exploring as much of the natural beauty of the interior as possible. We start with a hike up to the Salto de Jimenoa, the waterfall where the intro of Jurassic Park was filmed. Unfortunately the bridge was out so we didn’t get to far into the national park, but we were able to walk through the forests and view all of the different agricultural plantations. We went back to the tour company for an incredibly large lunch, which was appreciated after four hours of hiking and then we were to set off on horseback. Going through rivers and up hills on the back of a horse, that I am pretty sure only spoke Spanish, finally ended at another beautiful waterfall. This one you could swim in and climb around on.





One day of travel later and we were on the pristine beaches of Cabarete with Dad. We walked the beaches, went swimming, did some light shopping, but most importantly took in a wonderful happy hour (everything on the menu half off) at Casanova. With billowing curtains and Chinese lanterns hanging from the palm trees over our heads on the beach, the food and drink was almost as amazing as the ambiance. After a shrimp tempura, a seafood ceviche, and the massive seafood platter Dad ordered, not to mention the many mango mojitos and pitchers of Caipirinha, I was on my own off to find my football buddy from two weeks ago. I find him (David) and his crew of friends at a local road bar named Alfredo’s. When Dad and Mom go home the next day I stay, for another three with David and his friends. We go to watch the kiteboarders at La Boca, a beach where the river meets the ocean and the professional kiteboarders play with the wind as if it were a yo-yo. The beach which is sparsly used mostly by kiteboarders, Dominican locals, and gringo locals has a wood hut bar on it. All they serve is the parrotfish, chicken, or crabs they catch along with beer and coconuts or pineapples with rum. The best fish I have ever had in my life, a whole parrotfish cooked and spiced to perfection. I do believe La Boca might be heaven. I spend a few moonlit nights enjoying happy hour at Villa Taina, eating supper in Sosua at an Italian restaurant after we all crammed into Peter’s rental car, watching the harvest moon light up the crescent shaped kite beach, having pizza at Pomoderos, or just sitting at Alfredo’s enjoying his fabulous chicken and the blaring Bachata music coming from the political advertising trucks that rumble by. The last day in Cabarete I take in a cockfight in the truly Dominican town nearby. I know this may sound cruel to you, but American processing of chicken is much crueler. Anyway, we sit in two tiered wooden bird cage that is all circled around a sand floor where the plucked and groomed chickens fight to the death (with a maximum time limit of 15 mins).

Back at the boat the dinghy engine isn’t fixed and Dad and Mom lost an oar with the winds in the harbor. So after four days of playing in Cabarete I must leave the dream and head back to my boat. Luckily upon arrival I find the oar and Raphael comes back with the prop fixed (well he put in a new steel bushing, which barely fit). The only thing left was to get the bottom cleaned. Easier said than done – after two or so hours under the boat and a million barnacles later Mom and I immerge from under the boat bleeding with millions of cuts and wounds from those damn sharp barnacles. Luckily the bull sharks of Luperon harbor didn’t show up. We bring Mom to the harbor and after almost a month in Luperon harbor we are ready to head east, straight towards the Mona Passage, and finally to our last stop – Puerto Rico.

The Luperon High Tide Goes Out.

After what seems like a traveling ordeal I just want to be back to the boat. I have never wanted to be back on my boat so badly. Unfortunately, as soon as I am back in Luperon I remember and realize how much work it is to be on a boat. The entire time I was away there was some very heavy rains, which, thanks to Raphael, didn’t sink our dinghy but those rains did seep into the woodwork in the boat which leads to… mold. There was a green fuzzy layer of mold over every piece of wood in the boat. I have a full week before Mom and Dad return from Minnesota and I spend this time cleaning mold, washing sheets (but also laying the sun)! This is the reason that I do not want to leave our boat in the water during the six month camping season.

The second reason I wouldn’t leave my boat in the water for the summer months is this story of the Swedish sailboat in Luperon. Very near to the mangrove shores of Luperon just off of the Muelle, the government dinghy dock, is a listing 34’ sailboat. The Swedish owners had left it two weeks ago to travel to the south of the Dominican Republic, unfortunately for them, their boat dragged anchor until it came upon a shoal. This happened during high tide, so as low tide occurred the boat became lodged on the sandbar while slowly being pushed onto its side by the underlying shoal. Soon the port hatches on the side became submerged and started to leak.


The entire interior was filled with water and the vultures were out. Soon the Dominicans who ferry fuel and water to the anchored sailboats were asking questions about the Swedish owner of this boat. They were fishing to find out if they could salvage the boat, which basically due to maritime law is if a boat has been left by its owners and it is in a state of disrepair the local people of that land are free to take whatever is left on the boat. Dave, a Tasmanian boater, quickly got in contact with the owners and let them know what had happened and then went straight to work. He borrowed bilge pumps and slowly drained the water out while running lines from the top of the main mast to anchors off of the starboard side thus causing the water to drain and the boat to right itself without going farther on its side. Somehow he did manage to right it and re-anchor it farther out.

Another crazy thing happened when I was out traveling. An Italian singlehander was bringing in his nice big monohull into Luperon, but he pushed himself too hard and had traveled some great distances to get here. Coming in from the east he cut the rumline to his waypoint too close and was pushed onto the rock breakers on the eastern side of the entrance. Granted the entrance to Luperon is tricky, but it was mostly due to shoals and crab nets. The breakers are pretty obvious, but the swell and the waves are dangerous. Some say he was sleeping, some say he was given an unreliable waypoint, but the moral of the story is the sea does not take kindly to mistakes and he should not have been there. He was pushed hard onto the rocks and his bolt on keel came off incredibly quickly. Water quickly pushed up into the boat and blew out through the port holes like they were blow holes. Due to this he quickly, QUICKLY sunk. Someone took their dinghy over there and saved the Italian singlehander, but the guy was very disoriented and didn’t grab many of his belongings. When they came back a few hours later the commandant and two local Dominicans were pulling apart his boat. Salvage rights, as mentioned earlier, were invoked. The commandant backed the two Dominicans saying that the boat now belonged to the Dominican people and no longer belonged to the Italian. He lost everything.
After a week of being solo on S/V Departure, Mom and Dad are set to return today and it also happens to be Sunday Sabbath. Vikings vs. Saints. I am at Shaggy’s and feel like the only Vikings fan. I am pumped all the way through the game until the fourth quarter when I start to pace and only focus on the game. Before we were goal for goal, drive for drive, but soon we start to lead in turnover, interceptions, and fumbles. Brett Favre is throwing lemons left and right. There is no pressure on Drew Brees and A.P. has again forgotten how to cradle the football. We throw away an opportunity to win and go into overtime. Well we all know what happens from here. I am a bit of a mess, obviously, because I had worked so hard this whole season to see all of the games and be the best fan I could be. Well, next year.

For your appreciation, the open letter I sent to some Vikings Sports editiors before the Vikes v. Saints game.
***** ***** ***** ***** ***** *****
I was surrounded by leering Packer fans, a side effect of living on a border battle town, when I had to set down my beer. While lesser Viking fans were settling their bets, I had my eyes glued to the TV. We could do this, we could beat the 49ers, and then it happened we beat the 49ers. In all my 22 years of being a Vikings fan I knew this season would be different. We had a good coach and a good quarterback – something that we had not been able to put together for a number of years. I was determined to see this season through. One problem: I was to be sailing the Caribbean for the next six months.
You can say many things about Vikings fans, but if you have ever heard the roar inside the dome or seen the image of the weeping blondes you know the one thing Vikings fans do not lack is dedication. There is no bandwagon in Minnesota. So I did it. I amped up my dedication – in Islamorada, FL; Nassau, Bahamas; Norman’s Cay, Exumas; Black Point, Exumas; Georgetown, Bahamas; Provo, Turks and Caicos; and Cabarete, Dominican Republic. With lots of adversity I only missed one game, the overtime game verses the Bears, where our engine overheated and we were adrift in the ocean for four days.
As we quickly approach our final adversary before the Super Bowl I implore you fellow Vikings fans, not to be scared, but instead to amp it up. Sure we have lost two Super Bowls in New Orleans, but now is our chance to prove ourselves as a force to be reckoned with. Do it for Bud Grant, do it for Prince, do it for the Purple People Eaters, do it because even after the Giants rolling over us in the 2001 playoffs or the tears shed after our 1998 NFC Championship loss or the love boat scandal or any of the other trials and tribulations we have been through – we are still Vikings fans. There is no bandwagon here.
Skol!
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Que linda es tu vida.

If any of you own a sailboat you know you plan, plan, plan, fix, fix, fix and then, bam, one day you are gone. Today was our day as we took apart the dinghy, closed up the boat, and had Raphael bring us to shore. Did I remember how to backpack? I hadn’t done it in so long so of course I made some glaring mistakes. As Douglas Adams taught me early in my life, never go anywhere without your towel; you’ll need it only always. But the second thing you need is a good guidebook, not to tell you where to eat or really what to see, but to provide you with a condensed book of information on traveling (buses, cars, taxis, trains, etc.) and complete maps. Most other things can easily be figured out or obtained, but having a good towel and a Lonely Planet is essential.

And of course, I had no guidebook. Traveling in the Dominican Republic is incredibly easy as there are motoconchos on every corner, conchos/publicos that run between most cities, and guaguas that run similar routes. There are also taxis and rental cars as well as Carib Tours, Metro Tours, Habia Tours and many other big bus companies that can get you across the country in an air-conditioned tour bus for under $10USD. Motoconchos are guys with motorbikes and usually one or two of you jump on behind and they are ubiquitous with almost any corner in the DR. Conchos/publicos are four door sedans that usually cram six people in plus the driver and have little markers on top of various colors that tell you the route they run. Guaguas are basically the same as conchos/publicos, but they are vans which usually fit around 18-20 people and have longer routes.


Dad and I take a guagua from Luperon to Imbert (50 pesos/$1.50USD) and a publico from Imbert to Puerta Plata (40 pesos/$1.15USD), but of course there are some downsides as you never know how fast they will go or how many times they will have to stop to drop off or pick up people. The center of Puerta Plata is the Ciudad Parque (city park) where all of the “hearders” wait for tourists that they can shuffle around for a buck – avoid these guys in the yellow shirts at all costs. With the best intentions to explore the town the downpouring rain caused a bump in the road. After a bit too pricy lunch (very good calamari) at Armando, we sit in our hotel, Hotel Victoriano. It costs us just under $20USD per night which includes English television, a shower that has one of those electrical heads that turns the shower water from ice cold to just cold and is electrically dangerous if touched, as well as small cockroaches. Mid afternoon my bed starts to sway, from living in New Orleans in an old house I was used to a bit of shaking when big trucks went by, but there was no truck here. The middle of the room is shaking. The bathroom is shaking. Everything is shaking. It goes on for almost a minute. The 7.0 earthquake with the epicenter just outside of Port-o-Prince, Haiti caused only minor damage to the Puerta Plata hospital. Other than a trip to Sam’s Bar, the typical ex-pat hangout, for supper Dad and I spend little time exploring Puerta Plata.

I can’t even explain how many times I have been glued to a TV watching CNN disaster updates from a hotel room. After we barely edged out the tsunami in Phuket due to an overbooked flight, we sat in our hotel room in Bangkok and then Vietnam watching the devastation. After moving in to my dorm room in the morning and then moving out in the afternoon, Mom and I evacuated New Orleans with Hurricane Katrina on our heels. We watched the horror from hotel rooms in Orange, Texas and then a friend’s house in Alexandria, LA. Now this – an earthquake just across the border – what could be next?

Our next stop is Sosua which is near the airport for Dad.


With nice beaches and basically one main road, Calle Pedro Clisante, it is basically like Phuket lite, with lots of prostitutes, lady-boys, and old European men. The hotel here has hot water and is quite a step up. The town also offers lots of ex-pat bars including, Brittanica, which offers wonderful breakfasts including the most decadent banana split waffle. Another restaurant that I was in love with is Café Cubano which offers gourmet coffee and wonderful desserts (my favorite is her Banana Bread Pudding, but I have also enjoyed the Carrot Cake and Strawberry Cake).


Somehow it is still raining. It is unbelievable that the northerly that pushed our sailboat quickly into the DR will not desist in pouring rain on the Dominican north coast. Nevertheless, Dad and I go out for the night. Not really my scene as these Dominican hookers aren’t nearly as nice as the Thai ones who will play checkers and drink with you all night long. Dad quickly finds many guys to talk to, while I try the local hooch. Mamaguana is a rum based shot that you sip which is supposedly an aphrodisiac. It is cured in big E.J. Gallo wine bottles that are stuffed with local vines, leafs, and twigs as well as seasoned with honey and sugar. The traditional version also includes turtle testicals. It is very sweet, but packs a whoalip. Two dance clubs, a casino, and probably a whole bottle of Tanquery later I eat the best 4 am street food I had ever had – a pulled barbeque chicken sandwich on a Kaiser roll.

After a wild night, Dad is on his way to the airport and I am free to roam. With a whole country at my fingertips, where do I travel first? For 420 pesos/$12USD, I take a Metro Tours bus to Santa Domingo, the DR’s capital on the southern coast of the island, about four hours away. Why I think it is a good idea to be hungover on travel days will only baffle me… when will I learn my lessons? The bus ride through the interior of the island is mountainous, lush, green, gorgeous, picturesque, tropical… perfect. I have never understood the term “breathless” as I have never lost my breath over anything, but here I did. Looking out at the Jurassic Park vistas I literally gasped at the incredible landscapes. The Zona Colonial, Colonial Zone, is the main tourist center of the city and within walking distance of the Carib Tours bus stop (of course with no guide book I did not know this on the way in and caught a ride with an old man who picked up a translator to hit on me – always bring a guidebook). After searching in the rain forever I am finally brought to Bettye’s Guesthouse, why a hostel wouldn’t have a sign is beyond me. It is a normal run of the mill hostel, but at a bit higher of prices ($22USD per night). The artwork is gorgeous since the lobby is also a gallery and she provides the most wonderful free breakfast which includes grenadine soaked pineapple, gourmet coffee, and assorted breads.


The Obvious Entry for Bettye's Hostel.


For two days I explore the capital. Between sitting and people watching at Café Conde to exploring the Duarte Museum, I was finally in a place to survey a bit of the Dominican history. The best part, by far, was the Alcazar de Colon which is the waterfront area where Columbus’ son’s house is as well as the Casas Royales, which was incredibly enjoyable. It housed a very large collection of weapons donated by Trujillo that ranged from large muskets to swords and much more! During my walking tour of the town I keep trying to find the really neat historical buildings and archeological sites, but they are really small and crammed into the rest of the town. I also take in the fortress, a few street sandwiches, and a few nice dinners; but that was the extent of my travels through the capital.


Isn't it great what the rest of the world thinks of the U.S.


Columbus' son's beautiful waterfront compound


Pancho Villa's outfit - how come this only reminds me of two for one margaritas?
Knowing that the Sunday Sabbath was coming up I have to get to a town with a sports bar, so I head to Santiago (Carib Tours for 260 pesos/$7.45USD). Unfortunately last time I came to town I came in on Metro Tours, so I didn’t realize that when I went through Santiago it would be at a different site, since I am on Carib Tours. So somehow my stupidity and lack of Spanish skills put me in Mao – not at all where I want to be. After being sort of kicked off of the bus in the middle of nowhere I sit to have a very large beer and a good cry. After I regain my traveling cajones I jump on a guagua to Puerta Plata and arrive somewhere in Puerta Plata in the dark and in the rain. I am so drained from my travels and my obvious inability to travel. I give in and jump on the back of a motoconcho to take me to the center of town – just take me there!

Above Sam’s Bar is the oldest hotel, Hotel Castilla, in Puerta Plata and it is also the most disgusting hotel in Puerta Plata.


For 450 pesos/$12.85USD per night I get a room full of asbestos and probably many infectious diseases including but not limited to elephantitus, bed bugs, crabs, and necrotizing fasciitis. Thank goodness I had my towel to use as a blanket. After this I could have RAN out of Puerta Plata but two publicos later (40 pesos to Sosua then 20 pesos to Cabarete) I was in Cabarete. I am so happy to be in a windsurfing, kite surfing, laser sailing type of town. With one road and a beach full of bars I am so happy, also, it finally stopped raining, after almost three weeks! Cabarete is a great town as I stay in a hotel (Hotel Kaoba) which is not disgusting, but in fact wonderful. With bungalows, comfy beds, a nice pool, a safe, and much more for only $32USD per night. After a fabulous lunch at Café Pitu, it is finally time for some Sabbath football! Jose O’Shays, an Irish Dominican bar, that has roughly seven TVs including a big screen which are all tuned to the Vikings vs. Cowboys game. How glorious!


What a kick butt decisive game! I was so excited all the way through. There were way more Minnesota fans than Dallas fans, which is bizarre and everyone is seriously worked up! Jared has two guys on him at all times which makes Ray Edwards a very dangerous man. Favre manages to keep up with the rest of the team with some nice passes to Rice. I am so excited that I even become friends with a Canadian Brett Favre fan in a Jets jersey. We are at high tide with Brett Favre and with the NFC championship on the line I am about to join the B. Favre bandwagon.

For your appreciation (even though we all know how this game ended), I was very excited for the next week game.