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!
***** ***** ***** ***** ***** *****

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.

Just waiting for my weather window, actually, I need a picture window.

Luperón: "the world's largest outdoor insane asylum”

We are here and we are tropo (read: lazy). We redo the dinghy lines, bring our jib sail in to be repaired at Flaco (which is just a open first level of a house with dirt floors and one sewing machine), and I am again on a mission to find new shoes as my last pair we snatched during New Years. It seems shoes hate me as much as I hate them. Luperon is a lot like Georgetown, except for this sailing community is actually made up of sailors. It’s a jumping off point for many as well as a place to leave your boat for a few years. There is a dinghy dock (with of course gaping holes) which leads right into Luperon, but there are also dinghy docks at the yachtclub (a restaurant) and at Puerto Blanco (a restaurant, small marina, and hardware shop).


Mangroves in front of The Yachtclub

Points of interest is the Juice Shop where you can get delicious fresh juice or shakes for 50cents USD or fresh Panini sandwiches (my current favorite is the zapote shake). Captain Steve’s is a big place owned by an ex-boater, his Dominican wife, Anne, and his two girls – Stephanie and Coral.


Nachos and Margaritas at Captain Steve's

Shaggy’s is up the other street. Shaggy used to work at Lor-e-lie’s and for some reason I already had a Shaggy’s Barstool Sailor bumper sticker in my log book (this is by far my favorite place to sit and drink beer) – not to mention the only place in Luperon where I can catch a football game. The yachtclub has wonderful pools overlooking the anchorage and lots of space, but no one ever seems to be there – a shame. The city is full of small chicken shops, fresh vegetable stands, bakeries, and is mixed with locals, ex-pats (who come for the prostitutes), and sailors. The streets are filled with kids, dogs, goats, chickens, and every once and a while a pig.

Lynn, from Shaggy’s, owns a mooring on the far side of the anchorage and the next day we are on a mooring so that when Dad is at home and I am out traveling the boat will be safely moored. We organized a trade with Rapheal, a local Dominican, who takes our TV off of our hands in exchange for watching the boat while we are gone (as well as going up the mast and taking off the notch that continually catches our main halyard). Our mooring is next to Zephyr, yes, we ran into Casey and Stephanie again! And with the boat being a bit farther out we now have a bit of the dinghy ride to the boat – which is wonderful because you can really enjoy the phosphorescent water. As you dinghy through you leave a wake of glowing neon blue water and you can watch the glowing trails of fish scurry away from your boat. We spend a few days organizing Dad’s flight home and Mom’s flight back. I spend a good chunk of money on a good set of oils ($150 USD), small solar panels, and celestial navigation books. What can I say? I really like sailing. Along with the pleasure of raw sugar pralines and morning lobster vendors, we also get to meet Bruce VanSant, the author of our nautical guidebook. In the guidebook he comes across a bit arrogant, but no matter what anyone may say about him. He is an amazing soul who I really enjoying talking to.

Since we arrive it had been continuously raining. Thanks bad weather Bob. Of course being trapped inside the boat, Dad is full of projects. We change the oil and the oil filter and then attempt to change the primary fuel filter. Of course it is not quite that easy and we quickly encounter a vapor lock – a bit dumbfounded about how to fix it we contact Casey and accidentally bleed over. Dave, a tazzie, quickly rows over and shows us that the Perkins 4108 has another fitting to crack which is hidden on the side of the engine. With our few little chores behind us, it is time for Dad to go to the airport and for me to do a bit of backpacking.


At Anchor in Luperon

Attitude – the Difference Between Ordeal and Adventure – A 50 knot Bluewater Passage.

During the football game we also used the internet there to make sure that we had a nice little northerly to the Dominican Republic. Under this information it looked like we had a nice weather window lasting from Monday to Wednesday. We decided to skip going over the banks and took the ship channel south to West Caico Island. We planned to take a nice little evening nap here, but our nice northerly had turned into a southerly and the anchorage turned out to be on the windward side and we were taking big winds from the southeast. The anchor was bucking badly and a nap was not going to happen, but we did get the opportunity to run a night anchoring drill. The light southerly, although not expected, was easy motor sailing all night. The next morning Dad takes longer shifts as I am exhausted from working all day yesterday in the rain. Around three pm Dad takes his shift and I hand him his fowl weather gear. Our sails are reefed and I go below to take a nap. Mistake #1: underestimating a brooding sky. The black sky reared its ugly head and soon the boat was healing like crazy. Everything below was flying around. Water was pouring in from all of the closed hatches. I start putting down towels and trying to keep things together in the salon, when all of a sudden the fridge flies open and everything inside goes zooming out. I realize there is nothing else I can do below, so I throw open the companionway door.

It was the most horrifying sight I had ever seen. The sky was black, but everything was lit in a faint white glow. The sky and sea merged and you could only differentiate then by seeing the white caps which were being blown off by the wind so you were getting hit with brackish water – a heavy mixture of sea water and rain water. Dad is white knuckled at the helm while our boat is heeled over with its port toe rail completely submerged in the water. The water is so thick in the air it is almost if we are already in the water. Dad is yelling at me, telling me something. Something in your body just takes over, you don’t have time to be terrified, you don’t have time to think, you only have time to do. Sailing gloves on – tighten the main sheet traveler, winch in the jib… as the wind meter records the highest wind I have ever experienced – 50 knots. Three turns on the winch and tail, crank, crank, crank. I am throwing my whole body into pulling the jib in as the wind is pulling it away from me and tearing it up. From there I clean the drains as the water coming in over the side is starting to accumulate and not flow out. Luckily, I had resewed the clew so that it didn’t completely rip off in the wind. The front of the squall had passed and I lowered our reefed jib, but huge seas continue with 20-25 knot winds gusting to 30. We had found our forecasted northerly – and it kicked our ass.

But that was only the beginning. The northerly had pushed us too fast and we were coming in hot to Luperon, Dominican Republic. We get close around 11 pm; unfortunately we have to wait for the 6:30 am sunrise before we can attempt to enter the anchorage. This is how many boats go down; you get desperate, tired, and reckless. I was dead. I don’t know how Dad did it, but he managed the helm for almost 7 hours. After failed attempts to heave to, Dad just went back and forth beating into the northerly and then letting it push us into the harbor. It was painful. Cold, pouring rain, pushing through 10 foot seas – no stars, no moon, but blackness and pain. By the end of it I had sworn off another blue water passage. How Dad managed I will never know. Around 6 am he can’t take it anymore and we begin to go into Luperon.

We don’t have charts for this anchorage (while we actually do, but haven’t found them yet). So we are relying heavily on Bruce VanSant’s The Gentleman’s Guide to Passages South and the chartplotter. As we get close the sun begins to rise and it is just magic. One of the most gorgeous sights I have ever seen in my life. You can smell the thick perfume of wet dirt. The water is light brown with green caps while the rolling hills are dark grey-green and covered with a mist descended from the glowing grey sky. We dodge fishing buoys and small fishing boats and as we turn the last corner there are mast, at first only a few but soon there are at least thirty! While we are in awe of this, we quickly run aground. As Bruce had said turn off your chartplotter. Our chartplotter had said we were just fine, but instead of giving the yellow stick berth we should have hugged it to the port (as it was a mid-channel marker). We can’t see much in the murky water but as I jump on the bow we dislodge in a plume of black mud. The anchorage is full of shallow shoals throughout – it seems like every area that a boat is not anchored at is actually a shoal. We lay down our Bruce in the very muddy bottom and are anchored next to the giant thatched roof of the yachtclub. The admiral comes to the boat to collect money, then we go pay four different people at customs – it comes to a total of around $150 USD. I doubt the majority of that will get to any real government organization. After another wonderful bluewater passage we are sitting in a nice hurricane hole, which we don’t plan on leaving for a while. Luperon will be our home for the next month or so and it is welcomed to be free of blue water for a bit.

Departure At Anchor (short one ripped jib)
For your appreciation – a haggard captain takes joy in finally getting a cheap beer! Yes that is right, we are finally out of the Bahamas and can afford to drink heavily! The first thing we do is drink cheap beer and have a fresh seafood lunch at Liddy’s (a house of ill-repute).

No Mercy? Damn Straight.

The Sabbath morning was a sailing lesson with how to whip lines, read tells, reef the main, and lower the lazy jacks. The boat sails very nicely this morning and it was fun to really have her sail, but Lee again discovers lots of issues. First and foremost is the jib sail.

The block and tackles which should be positioned so that the jib lines will bisect the sail are not at all near where they should be and are very hard to move, so we have to add new ones. The jib sail itself is too long on the hypotenuse and thus will not tighten up when lifted and cups the wind too much. Finally our jib sail is 150% which is too big for our boat. We need to recut the sail and insert some luffing foam so that the jib will not billow out so much.
We get back just in time to grab a car to Danny Buoy’s to watch the Sabbath game. I have to make up for last week when I was stuck at sea. I hear, even though it was a loss, that it was a good game with some overtime against the Bears. They put my game on all of the TVs and even the large projection screen. It is a wonderful game to watch on a big screen with the commentators booming over the loud speakers. I count this game as an apology to fans, saying “sorry we have been so bad, so here is a kick butt final home game, we won’t pull our starters – you deserve this!” Williams throws up an amazing block and Jared Allen gets a nice sack and force fumble. There is more noise in the metrodome for our defense than the offence, who is also doing some great work with good plays by Rice and Shianacoe. As the Cowboys fan next to me said, “This doesn’t seem like a team that is in the playoffs, but more like on who is fighting for it.” Bravo guys.

To top off this amazing day are the glow worms of Sapodilla Bay. The glow worms of the Caicos banks mate only three to six days after a full moon and then only for 15 minutes about an hour after dusk. There is a spiral of neon blue eggs that the male zigzags through. What it looks like from your boat is millions of neon blue star bursts with ensuing even brighter glowing lines. It was amazing. Sapodilla Bay, with its glowing marine worms at night and frolicking dolphins in the morning, was the highlight of Turks and Caicos.

As this wraps up the Vikings football season, I am ready to get back to work on our poor boat and get her ready for our next crossing. After hitchhiking for a ride to the Do-It Center, the only place to get any hardware in Provo, we spend the day in the rain working – whipping and (mildly) burning lines, tightening the lifelines, and resewing the clew in the jib sail. I really enjoy whipping lines and tightening the lifelines was easy, but resewing the jib sail was impossible. The material is so thick and stiff that it is almost impossible to sew even with the industrial needle I have. After two hours I had finished sewing the clew, only about 12 inches of sewing. Since we have a weather window we decide to quickly ready the boat and head out about 4 pm (just before dusk). Yes, it is time for another crossing. Soon I will be back in the Dominican Republic.