Introducing the new crew member

After a tedious long selection we have decided to go with Heather Beige as our sumbrella collor.  She's brown with a spec of black and white looks very sexy when the sun shines on her.  All of our canvas will be this colour and we think this combination will work really well.
We are excited to have Heather shielding the sun and the salt water from our faces.  We will post pictures once the project is finalized.

                                       
                                                         The sexy Heather Beige

Work in progress

The work continues going strong despite the extremely hot temperatures.  It’s been around 40C for the last two weeks and it’s very challenging working under this heat.  Monika has arrived and we are both working hard to get as many projects as we can before relauching in early December.  We managed to strip the entire deck from it’s hardware, we are epoxing all the holes, redrilling and rebeding all the hardware.  But before we can do that we will paint the deck.  

Monika also took the cabin sole as a project and we stripped the entire varnish of the sole and now have sanded to 320 grit.  We will use Cetol for the sole (up to 8 coats).  

We have also decided to redo the entire bright work on the boat (outside wood) we are now well underway to finishing up stripping and sanding the wood.  We will be ready to apply epifanes varnish the outside wood, something along 8-10 coats.  It’s a long tedious process but it will look very sharp when all done.  We can only apply one coat a day and they have to be wet sanded in between coats so as you can see 8-10 coats will take some time.  

We have decided to redo the entire canvas on the boat (dodger, bimini, sail cover).  Unfortunately the canvas is a job that we will not be able to do on our own and had to hire a company here in Trinidad do undertake the job for us.  We are also redoing most of stainless steel work.  This will include solid stainless bars as our lifelines, a new bimini with a solar panel bracket mount on top of it and reworking of our wind generator mounting bracket and location.   This work is also being done by a local Trini contractor and we should have the stainless and canvas done with in three weeks.  

The bottom have now been stripped of it’s 10 coats of antifouling, this job needed to be done as the antifouling was peeling from the bottom.  We will apply two coats of epoxy primer and than three coats of fresh new antifouling paint.  

                                       
                                          Bottom scrapped and ready for primer and antifoul
                           

                                                The tedious process of varnish scrapping

                                      Deck with most of it's hardware off and wood stripped

                                                                          Wood masked off ready for sealer 

The refit

I managed to arrived in Trinidad on Wednesday at around 02:00 after a full day and a half from my previous scheduled time.  You might ask, did I sail over here? Why so slow? Well, hurricane Sandy and a mechanical problem with the Planes spoiled the trip.
The only job I had previously arranged to get done while the boat was on the hard and I was away working, did get it done and it looks really sharp.  Allen a local Trini painter, painted the hull, raised the water line by 6 inches an did a very good job.  I ended up using awlgrip 2000, a little more expensive but the final result is impressive.  It's nice to have different people coming by and asking what type of boat this is, the year.  Rodeo is loving the attention.
I'm now slowly working away on a few other projects and I'll try and post here what I end up doing while being here in Trinidad.

Hurricane Sandy, messing up with my plans

So here I was sitting inside the plane and almost ready for takeoff, already day dreaming about Rodeo, the warm weather the very large ever growing to do list.  But now the pilot has come over the PA to announce that we will not be going anywhere and that the flight is cancelled.  You can see on my watch the barometric pressure was at 981 which is very low and we are still 300nm from the storm center.  On the left you can see the proposed track for the hurricane, looking at that picture makes me think I'll be stuck here in Toronto for at least two more days.   Oh well, it's time to seat back enjoy the hotel and wait until the hurricane passes.

30 hours of flying to see my Rodeo

Well the day has finally arrived, it’s the 29th of October 2012 and I’m at the airport in Toronto awaiting my flight to Port of Spain.  It’s been a while since I last posted and many of you have no idea why it has been so long.  During the four months of hurricane season I was offered a job part in Canada and part in Africa.  So after 4 gruelling months I’m very excited to be ready to head back to my floating home my safe haven the place that will always be there for me my beloved boat Rodeo.  Ohh how I miss her, her smell, her curves and her lines.  

The plan is to work on her for the next four weeks, installing a much needed new watermaker, new autopilot and a bunch of other projects.  I’ll work 10 to 12 hour days and will do everything I can to be back sailing by the first or second week of December.  

You may ask whats next? Brasil? Panama? Europe? At this point everything is a possibility I shall know better in the next few weeks what the plan is going to be.  

Hanging tight

Rodeo is on the hard. Several things about that sentence make me feel wretched. We're leaving her behind for nearly four months while we travel back to Canada to work.  It will be an unwelcome separation, but very much a necessary one because our budget has run low and going back to Canada will give us a chance to save up for some long coveted upgrades. Nevertheless Rodeo has been a home to me for over a year and much longer to Gabe, and it is hard to imagine spending time away from her now. Time away from Rodeo will also be time off from our travels and this vagabond lifestyle we've come to love so much. It means adjusting back to life on land in the hustle and bustle of a city. It means being part of a stable society as opposed to our transient community of fun seeking cruisers. It means going from constant state of fluid motion to hard, solid ground. There are many benefits to going back ashore. One of the top ones is catching up with family and friends. Can't beat that. Another one is the change of pace. Going back to work will allow us to keep a routine, something that can be difficult to maintain while moving around from place to place. Being back in civilization also means I get to take bubble baths, something I've been without since the last visit to my parents' house last October.
For many reasons getting hauled out in Trinidad marks an end to a chapter of our lives. It is a destination many set out from North America to reach, but for various reasons never do. We made it and we feel a sense of accomplishment in doing so. It has been a great journey and an incredible learning experience, the sort of which we're not likely to relive. We want to continue to sail of course, but our first year cruising will always be our first. Filled with uncertainty, self doubt and fear we have made mistakes and learned from them. The lessons we've learned this first year will guide us through all the consecutive passages and we will certainly do a lot of things differently in the future. A lot of what we've been through is behind us. Also, depending on what we decide to do once we get back to the boat it may be the end of cruising in the Caribbean. If we chose to sail to Brazil directly from Trinidad it will be a short, but challenging passage with very few, if any, stops in between. This route is more difficult because of opposing currents and trade winds, but if done right could bring us to Brazil in a matter of weeks. If we chose to do the great loop, which would take us back through the Caribbean, across the Atlantic, down the west coast of Africa and back across the Atlantic again, it would be a longer but more comfortable sail with the trade winds. Regardless of our future plans we chose to bring the boat to Trinidad to keep her safe during the hurricane season and to get heaps of work done to her once we return. Leaving Rodeo here is like leaving a piece of ourselves behind. What's even more agonizing is that we had to leave Pickle with friends in Grenada for the time being. We contemplated bringing her back to Canada with us, but Trinidad's Department of Agriculture makes the process very difficult and we've been told that she may not be able to come back with us without going through a 3 month quarantine. We couldn't bear the thought of putting her through that. We miss her more than we every imagined possible. She has been part of our crew and a part of this experience, and not having her around has left a quiet, hairless void behind. Now that the decision to go back to work for a few months has brought us to Trinidad we await our arrival in Canada with mixed emotions. There is a great deal to look forward to, but a precious lot of things we'll miss while we're gone. 

Tobago Cays

We swam with turtles again and this time there were dozens of them. We spent a day in a turtle sanctuary at Tobago Cays. The area is a cluster of small uninhabited islands, protected from the open Atlantic by a ring of reefs. We were able to spend an afternoon there before winds picked up and nasty weather chased us away in search of better shelter. When we arrived we were so eager to jump in the water I did so without bringing a camera. Big mistake. We had to swim quite a distance to get to the protected zone, so by the time we got into the turtle crowds I had no desire to go back and get it. I regret the decision now, because we swam among a massive colony of green turtles so accustomed to human presence they let us get real close. I figured I could snap a few pics the following day, which of course never happened, because we moved first thing in the morning. We had a sleepless night while swinging wildly at anchor and we knew we wouldn't be able to relax out there, where the gusts charged freely across the open water. We moved a few miles back to Saltwhistle Bay on Mayreau Island. It was no coincidence that we ended up there. Saltwhistle Bay is the very one that Gerard's boat has been named after and he could not pass up the opportunity to visit the namesake. We spent a few days on Mayreau waiting for the front to pass, during which time our friends on Katarina and Blue Kai caught up to us. It was a sweet reunion. We had been traveling separately for a month and we really missed those guys, especially the kids. As soon as we came over to their boat, Hannah and Rye went wild showing off their recently acquired skills. Hannah was now able to swim in deep water, without a life jacket. She kicked and paddled with chaotic sweeps of arms and legs, a strange combination of panic and satisfaction painted on her face. Rye, on the other hand, has been bravely jumping off the deck into the deep water, and was more than willing to showcase his abilities, over and over and over again. Rye and I practiced variations of cannon balls throughout the afternoon, until our eyes stung from the salt water. 
Later that day we all met up at one of the beach bars for a reunion drink. Everyone was drinking beers, but I got ambitious and ordered a gin and tonic. And then another, and another. I should have known better, I've been there before. You can never have just one gin and tonic. It all began very innocently and then a group of young tourists from Colorado took over the bar for a birthday celebration. They had arranged for a big table and a home cooked meal by Black Boy's, the bar owner's wife. After Katarina and Blue Kai called it the night, Gerard, Gabriel and I crashed Colorado's party. We couldn't help it. They brought out their own rum punch and musical instruments, and they celebrated with infectious dynamism. We mingled, we played and danced, and I was on my best behavior until I had my fourth gin and tonic after which I enjoyed a slow climb toward a complete breakdown. At first I noticed I couldn't carry out my elaborate dance moves with any sort of fluidity, then my speech became slurred until finally I got so dizzy all I wanted to do was lay down. I asked Gabe to take me to our beached dinghy. I lay curled up inside of it while Gabe went back in to find out if Gerard was ready to go. He wasn't, but he came out to help Gabe get the dinghy in the water and then we were off, put putting back toward Rodeo. I needed my head to stop spinning and I wanted everything around me to stop moving. Naturally it wouldn't. The choppy ride home was excruciating and things got only marginally better once I was aboard Rodeo. Gabe had to go back to shore to wait for Gerard's verve to expire, leaving me slouched in the cockpit with my head hung over the cap rail. Pickle was visibly troubled by my state, mainly because I was in no shape to feed her. She made a point of complaining to Gabe about it later. Slowly, painstakingly I adorned Rodeo's hull with convulsive heaves and finally crawled into bed, relieved from my torture by deep sleep only to be woken back to it the next morning. 

Mr. Williams

Having spent a week in Bequia we were eager to move ahead. We still had a few weeks before we had to be in Trinidad for the hurricane season, but we wanted to make sure we got there with time to spare. Actually, the plan to go all the way to Trinidad solidified recently, when Gabriel was offered a short term contract with a company in Ontario. Until then we planned on spending the summer in Grenada and surrounding areas, hoping to pick up some work and make a little bit of money while still enjoying the cruising lifestyle. The opportunity back in Canada, however, was just too good to pass up. It will give us a chance to make a lot of money fast, which we will use to upgrade a few things on the boat and put more towards our cruising budget for next year. Trinidad is where we are going to leave the boat on the hard to be stored for the hurricane season and later do work on, once we return from Canada. The idea of leaving the boat for 4 months is an agonizing one. We have really come to love this way of life and suddenly we are reaching the end of the line, the end of our adventure. Perhaps that's a bit too dramatic, considering that we'll be back in the Caribbean in a few months, though I can't help but feel nostalgic. Reality was encroaching on our dream. We had to start thinking of arrangements for the boat, our travel and Pickle's travel. All in due time, we still had some island hopping to enjoy before the hiatus from our hiatus. We raised the sails and steered for Canouan in the chain of St. Vincent and the Grenadine Islands, where we made an overnight stop before moving on to Tobago Cays. Once anchored Gerrard, Gabe and I made our way to shore, to explore the small village that encircles Charlestown Bay. When we were tying up the dinghy a small man with blood shot eyes staggered toward us and offered his assistance. We asked him where a good place to eat local food might be, but he only guided us into a beachfront hotel. Perhaps hoping for gratuity from the hotel dining room staff for brining people in, or more likely because he took us for the fancy kind that would frown upon a cheap meal in an alley shack. He was wrong. A cheap meal in an alley shack is exactly what we were in the mood for and we let ourselves be led by the man, who introduced himself as Mr.Williams, through the poorly lit streets of Charlestown. We could barely understand his drunken garble as he fed us tidbits about the local food and his career as a fisherman. Fishing? Now there was a language Gabe could understand. They jabbered on as we walked. The town was alive with activity. Cool evening breeze brought people out onto porches and curbside. Small bars lining the main street were filling up with loud music and swaying bodies. Mr.Williams rushed ahead of us, waving to and greeting everyone in site. People waved back and shouted his name, but we got the feeling that Mr.Williams was know by everyone in town for all the wrong reasons. We followed just the same. He first took us into a noisy bar with a deli counter, from behind which his sister was serving up bowls of pork sause and boiled breadfruit. Neither the food nor the atmosphere were appealing enough to make us stay. We apologized to Mr.Williams and his sister and asked him if there was some place else we could eat. He said something inaudible and pointed up the road. We shrugged and followed his lead. The place he brought us to was Mangrove Cafe, an open beach restaurant with a small bar and a large BBQ. The young man tending to it was leaning over a rack of pork chunks, engulfed in fragrant smoke that rose high in the air. We set down, ordered a round of beers and invited Mr.Williams to sit with us. He didn't think twice about it. A DJ was playing reggae tunes from the corner of the restaurant, a few other tourists and many locals soon filled the place. We really enjoyed the atmosphere and commented on how we wouldn't have stumbled on the place if it wasn't for Mr.Williams. Our chance encounter deserved another round of beers. Besides we needed something to wash down the BBQ pork down with. We ate, we drank, we were merry and after bidding Mr.Williams goodnight we strolled back to our boats for a night of rest before departing for Tobago Cays in the morning.

A little help from our friend

We flew toward St. Vincent on a steady SE wind, but once we got there we were becalmed in the lee of the island. We expected as much or at least considered that possibility. What we didn't consider was having water flood our engine. Our sails were beginning to flog in the dying wind and it was time to motor, but when we tried to put it on it turned a few times then ceased. Gabe immediately opened up the engine room to get a better look at what was happening. Judging by the engine's behavior he concluded that following seas must have rushed inside the motor through the exhaust. It's an incredibly rare incident, but it happens and after everything our little Yanmar has been through already it was now choking on salt water. We concluded that there was nothing to be done while under way. The motor required a flush and 3 oil changes to get it back in working order and that would have to wait until we got to Bequia. But how do we make any forward progress with no wind and no motor? The wind was coughing up brief gusts of air into the sails, but mostly we were dead in the water. Under motor power now himself, Gerard was watching Rodeo struggle forward at pitiable 1 knot/hr. Without even waiting to be asked, he called on the radio and offered to tow us the length of the island beyond which we could pick up wind and move on under sail. We accepted his offer without hesitation. There was nothing else to be done.
Saltwhistle back tracked a bit to meet us on our starboard, tow line in place. He tossed it across the narrow gap between our boats, to where I stood at the bow waiting. Once I had the line I made it fast around the bow cleat, then Gerard pulled forward and a few moments later we felt the gentle tug of the line and we felt Rodeo pick up speed. We weren't sure if Saltwhistle could actually pull the weight of us behind, but the scheme worked, the line held and we managed to get pass the lee of St. Vincent in no time. Out in the open the wind came in steady once more and we sailed for another 5 miles towards Bequia. Port Elizabeth is a wide and deep harbour and we were fairly confident that we could enter and anchor in it without a motor, but Saltwhistle, who went ahead to scope out the anchorage would be on standby to lend a hand again, if needed. With his dinghy and 15HP outboard motor in the water he waited for us to arrive. If the wind died and we couldn't pull into the anchorage under sail, he would pull alongside Rodeo in his dinghy and side tow us into our spot. Luckily the wind blew light and steady through the  low hills surrounding Port Elizabeth and we were able to reduce sails, slow down and maneuver into the anchorage without incident. We were quite proud of ourselves for having accomplished this. Anchoring can be tricky under the best of conditions and we managed to do it without a running motor. We couldn't have gotten there without Gerard though and we wanted to pay him back for being a pal. It also happened to be his birthday, all the more reason for a celebration, so we invited him over for supper. We caught 2 beautiful Dorado on the way and half of one ended up in a creamy caper wine sauce, served over rice with a side of fresh salad, the ingredients for which I had picked up from a street vendor back in Soufriere, St. Lucia. The rich taste of those home grown vegetables reminded me of the organic flavors that permeated produce from my grandmother's garden. The lettuce was crisp, refreshing with a tinge of bitterness, tomatoes juicy and sweet and the green onion fragrant and sharp. It was a wonderful compliment to the mild, creamy taste of the Dorado. A meal worthy of celebrating our friend's birthday and our camaraderie.

Smooth operators

Marigot Bay in St. Lucia greeted us and Saltwhistle in a spectacle of lush hillsides decorated with vibrant tropical flowers and posh homes. At the back of the bay lay an upscale marina complex with all imaginable amenities. Calm waters, serene surroundings and the presence of many other boats put us at ease about being in St. Lucia. From what we read the country can be rough, and instances of burglary are common. Injected with this feeling of confidence and security we moved anchor the following day to Anse la Raye. It was Friday, the day of Fish Fest in Anse la Raye, a town wide street fair that showcases local cuisine and music. This town was nothing like the bay we came from. It was shabby and grey, its residents clearly not the well-to-do folk of Marigot. We felt a bit uneasy when we first got to shore, but after we chatted with a couple of locals and guzzled a few glasses of rum punch we started to relax and really enjoy ourselves. We carried this feeling of relaxation with us back to the boat and well into the evening until we heard thumping along the hull. We paused the movie we were watching and listened. Another thump and voices came in from outside heightening all of our senses. We sprang up and flew through the companion way and into the cockpit where we saw two dark figures swimming at the side of Rodeo. We freaked. One of them had his hands on the rail and was about to pull himself up on deck. They startled us and we startled them. I don't think they were expecting us to be on board. We started to scream at them, me in English, Gabe in Portuguese. With a confused tone in his voice one of them exclaimed that they're just looking, but it was too late for explanations. Gabe had already called out for me to bring out the "gun" and was promising to kill them for the intrusion. The intruders scurried off at the point of our spear gun and it was then we noticed that there were four of them in total, two on each side of the boat. In just a few blurry seconds we had the motor going and were weighing anchor to get out of Anse la Raye. With his voice already hoarse and strained, Gabe continued to scream and point the spear gun at the lot of them as we turned around and pulled out of the bay. While under way back to Marigot Bay we called the coast guard and made a report of what just happened. They promptly sent a Police boat out to check on us and then to check on Gerard and Saltwhistle who stayed behind in Anse la Raye. We reunited with him the following morning and were happy to find that he had a peaceful night of rest in the same anchorage we escaped from. Our good impression of St.Lucia was now marred by our brush with the shark burglars and we wanted to get out as fast as we could. We sailed south along the coast to town of Soufriere, where we cleared out at customs then, barricaded inside our boats at anchor, we waited to depart in the morning. It is heartbreaking to have to take such precautions, but we continued to lock the boat up at night until we got to Grenada. We didn't enjoy much of St.Lucia, which is a shame, because the island is beautiful. We set sail from there just as the sun slipped out from behind Gros and Petit Piton, sending golden streaks of lights through chalky morning haze. Heat would burn through it later in the day, but at the time everything was hushed and soft, wrapped in cotton. It looked innocent and alluring and it was hard not to admire it, but we were happy to press on for Bequia in St. Vincent and the Grenadines.

Grand surprises in Grande Anse d'Arlet

After Guadeloupe we made two brief stops, one in Martinique and one in St.Lucia. Martinique's modest, little coast towns were the perfect backdrop for days of leisurely activities. We were sluggish and unmotivated to do much in those days except snorkel in search of turtles. I had been waiting for an opportunity to swim with them and to watch them more closely under water. With the exception of Culebra in the Spanish Virgin Islands, I've only been able to spot them as they come up for air. Even then it's an event that prompts shrieks of excitement out of me. Finally, though, in a quiet anchorage of Grande Anse d'Arlet we found a number of them feeding on the grassy bay bottom. Mottled gray and brown, they were hard to spot against the grass, but as they moved around we saw that there was a whole group of them. They slowly nibbled on fine blades of turf, occasionally swimming up to the surface for air. One gulp, two gulps and back down for more salad. They moved slowly and awkwardly through the water. Their bodies waddled under the surface while they beat their way forward with one front flipper then the other, though there was certain gracefulness to their efforts. Gabe and I kept grunting at each other through our snorkels, pointing out individual turtles as they came into view. I was so happy I kept bringing my hands together into soundless underwater claps. As we swam away from the turtles and back toward the boat we noticed an enormous black cloud moving through the water. A bit spooked but curious we waited while it approached. It turned out to be a school of little fish swimming through the bay like an apparition. It was made up of what must have been thousands of tiny fish swimming in unison, swerving instinctively as we swam toward and into their mass. When we dove into the depth of the school the fish dashed in opposite directions then converged back into their formation ahead, over and behind us, engulfing us in its swift current of movements. We love getting in the water to explore even in the most unassuming areas, because we never know what we're going to find. 

Farewell to Justynka

It was inevitable. My comic relief, my extra shot of estrogen, my gal pal Justyna has left Rodeo to rejoin the real world. We tried very hard to convince her to stay. Gabe, Gerrard and myself felt that it would be perfectly acceptable for Justyna to call up good old boss and tell him that due to unforeseen circumstances she wasn't able to make it back to work for another...hmmm, say week or two. A few days before leaving Justyna sustained a minor head injury while climbing under Saltwhistle's life lines. After being terrorized by a scratch and win ticket hustler, thrown overboard and now nursing a conspicuous forehead laceration she could have easily made her boss believe that she was injured, traumatized and unable to fly home, at least not for a while. We begged, we pleaded, we reasoned. But, unlike ourselves, Justyna is a scrupulous, hard working individual, who actually likes her job. She was impervious to our questionable arguments and misguided methods of persuasion. She couldn't stay. She wouldn't stay, but she did promise to come back. I hold on to that promise. It was such a treat to have her spend those 9 days with us. She is a courteous guest and a lighthearted, high spirited companion. Most of all she's a damn good friend. We all had a lot of fun together. We shared such great memories, in fact, that when we got to Dominica we passed up the opportunity to seek more waterfalls inland, because we felt that this new adventure might take away from what we experienced with Justyna. As strange as that might sound I, at least, wasn't ready for any awe inspiring sight seeing sans Justyna.  
Despite ourselves we've seen many beautiful places since she left. We spent the next 5 days in Les Saintes. A cluster of picturesque islands off Guadeloupe's south coast. Terre-de-Haut, the main town of the archipelago was one of those places we could see ourselves settling in. It was charming, unhurried. Its residents laid back and friendly. The islands receive enough tourists to sustain local businesses and the most populated areas have just enough modern conveniences to afford a comfortable, delicious life filled with French delicacies. What more could you ask for?

Guadeloupe

The following day we arrived in Guadeloupe. What a delightful sight it was. It appeared like a mirage at first. Bleak and hazy, shrouded in the milky vail of a torrential downpour. Heavy clouds hung low over the highest peaks, drenching the island from head to toe. As we got closer the wind swept waves of heavy rain our way. When we saw it approaching we got ourselves ready for a rain shower. With soap and shampoo on standby we stripped down and waited for the energizing pallets of fresh water to drive down on us. Fresh water is invaluable to cruisers like us, so we take advantage of the free supply as much as we can. After an all night passage and lots of salt spray it's a treat for both Rodeo and us. When the rain cleared Guadeloupe exploded in front of us in its dense, fragrant glory. The island is the most luscious one we've seen. People describe its shape as a lopsided butterfly, but to me it looks like a set of lungs. With every habitable square inch of its ground covered in oxygen producing flora, Guadeloupe could easily be called the lungs of the Caribbean. Like thick, green icing spread over the land, vegetation was dripping off gently sloping peaks, over the cliffs and down toward the water, staining it with its rich green colour. In the distance town of Deshaies sparkled from the recent rainfall. Air was perfumed with aromas of wet plants, moist ground and the promise of extraordinary adventures. 
Deshaies Bay is where we spent the rest of the week with Justyna and Gerrard. We enjoyed the leisurely atmosphere of the town and all the benefits of being on French territory. Strong, flavourful coffee with fresh pastries in the morning, baguettes and camembert cheese for lunch, local vegetables, fish and French wine at supper. Guadeloupe was a feast for all senses. The pungent scent of honey locust trees. The sweet smell of mangoes we picked off the ground at the side of the road. The sound of crickets and tree frogs echoing throughout the bay in the evenings. And then the sights. We rented a car on Friday to drive up to the interior of the island in search of waterfalls. Equipped with a rudimentary map of the island provided by the rental company we took the long way round Basse Terre, the western part of Guadeloupe, to get a feel for the island and eventually lost our bearings, but found a waterfall. Ecrevisses Falls was waiting for us at the end of a perfectly laid stone path that lead us through a dense forest. The minute we stepped in there we were overcome by its enormity and the diversity of life inside of it. We felt like lilliputs in this place of exaggerated shapes. We walked among ferns spread out overhead like patio umbrellas, palm leaves as big as surf boards and old growth, vine covered trees that towered over us like mountains. The dense, rich green of it punctuated only by vibrant bursts of tropical flowers. Hermit crab, lizards and snails were scurrying about the ground. Mourning doves, bananaquit and hummingbirds gilded the canopy. Every bit of the forest was buzzing with life. 
We swam in the small pool at the foot of the falls. Every cell of my body seemed to be relishing the refreshing, sweet taste of the water. Then we soaked up our surroundings as we lay, like salamanders, on encircling rocks, drying off before heading back to the car. Corbit Falls was the next one to see. This much bigger waterfall could only be viewed from a platform at the base of it, where it fed into a rocky mountain stream, but the trail leading to it was so wonderful we didn't mind not taking a dip. Another skillfully laid wood and stone path took us in and out of the heart of the forest that was even more spectacular than the last. Later, driving down the mountain, we found a marked but unkept path that guided us toward another waterfall. The narrow footpath, wet and slippery from frequent rainfalls, ran deep into the heart of the forest and along another rocky stream. We followed it down until its crystal clear water emptied into a deep, moon shaped gorge where the water pooled before cascading away, deeper into the forest. Justyna wasted no time getting in. She eased herself into it at the shallow end of the pool and said the water was freezing, which was surprising, because at our feet the water trickling over the rocks was warm. We read that there are many thermal springs in the mountains, and the water coming out of the forest, flowing gently over the walls of the gorge must have come from one of those spring. But the water that fed into the waterfall was indeed cold and the rest of us decided to jump into the depth of it in a swift leap off the enclosing rock. The jump and the water were invigorating. We swam for as long as we could stand the temperature and then laid with our backs pressed against the tall walls of the gorge, where the hot spring water trickled down and over our cooled bodies. The best part, we had the waterfall all to ourselves for a good half hour. Everything about that spot was sublime. We drank it up with all of our senses.

Jumping ship

We spent another day in St. Martin after the scratch and win incident. Justyna and i went over to Marigot market to look at local arts and crafts. After all we never made it to Philipsburg for souvenirs the day  before. We also checked out of the country at the Captainierre office and then made our way back to Grand Case to provision for the next leg of the trip. We decided to head to St. Barths the following morning. A weather window was opening up and we needed to take it before it closed up, trapping us where we were. We had no regrets about leaving St. Martin. Sometimes it's hard. We find a place we like and wish we could linger. There were a lot of things we enjoyed about St. Martin: delicious cheeses, fresh pastries, inexpensive wine, smooth jazz on the beach, but after a week there we were ready to move on. 
We were underway early Sunday and sailed well into the afternoon to get to Ile Fourchue, just north of St. Barths. The rugged, moon shaped island is an old volcano and the bay where we moored is its flooded crater. The 2006 guide book we've been using says there was a herd of goats living on it, decimating all the vegetation, eating itself out of food. Well it must have finally, because when we got there there were no goats and a number of new, green bushes were covering the hills. Aside from these few patches though, the island was barren and grey, the rock face dry and wrinkled like elephant skin. The place was captivating. And it afforded great snorkeling, which Justyna's been really looking forward to. We enjoyed those serene surroundings for a day and were off again on Monday. We hoped to ride that weather window all the way to Guadeloupe. It would be a 24 hour passage, which meant a night sail, something Justyna was excited about. She's done her share of sailing and it was nothing new to her, but this time it was with a twist. We suggested that she join Gerrard on Saltwhistle since he's single-handing and could probably use an extra set of eyes and hands. They both liked the idea. Gerard said that if nothing else it would be nice to have the company. The problem however, was that we were already under way when we sprouted this brilliant idea, so now we had to figure out a way to transfer Justyna from one moving vessel to another. The seas were just rough enough to make rafting together dangerous. She wouldn't be able to step from boat to boat. She would have to jump overboard and, hopefully, be retrieved by Gerard before being swallowed by the dark, cold vastness of the open ocean. It really wasn't that dramatic, but it sure sounds good in a story. Anyway. We considered our options and finally decided that Gerard would pull up alongside Rodeo and pass over his life ring so that Justyna could put it on before she jumped in the water. Once she did, he would pull her aboard. 
She packed a change of clothes, a book and a few other items in a dry bag, that I would toss over to Saltwhistle once she jumped. It almost went according to plan. Almost. As Saltwhistle pulled up alongside, Justyna and I waited at the bow, ready to retrieve the life ring. Gerard threw it and missed. It landed in the water. No problem, we could motor side by side and try again. But before any of us had a chance to react Justyna was climbing over the life lines, throwing herself into the narrowing space between the boats, reaching for the life ring. She just went for it. We couldn't believe it. It happened so fast. She jumped and was holding onto the floating ring a few seconds later. Gerard now worked on pulling her in towards his swim ladder and I attempted to pass her dry bag over. I missed. It bounced off the deck and tumbled into the water, floating fast between the moving boats toward where Justyna was trailing at the end of a long line. Holding onto the ring with one hand she reached out and snatched the bag with the other as it drifted past her. What a girl. Finally Gerard pulled her up into the safety of his boat just to be rescued in return from a long night of loneliness.

Scratch & Lose

Justyna's second day with us began uneventfully. We had a lazy morning and just before noon set out, with our friend Gerrard from Saltwhistle, to explore the town of Philipsburg on the Dutch side of St. Martin. We were going to there to stroll on the boardwalk, grab lunch and check out some souvenir stores. It is very easy to move around the island, and travel between the two sides is permitted once you clear on either side. All we had to do was catch a "maxi taxi", one of many privately owned cab vans that run frequently between all the major towns. We took one to Marigot to visit a marine store first, and after waited for another to take us to Philipsburg. Standing on the side of the road in Marigot we talked about food. Preoccupied with our mission to the marine store we lost track of time. It was close to 2 PM and we suddenly grew very hungry. Once in Philipsburg we would quickly chose a place to sit down among countless waterfront cafes, if only the bus would come soon. We stood awhile under the shade of a roadside tree, when a young man approached us. He introduced himself as en employee of a Westin Dawn Beach Resort and wanted to know if we'd like to participate in a giveaway. We had food on our minds and not a lot of time to kill, but he handed us some scratch and win tickets anyway. The bus hasn't shown yet so we scratched. Unfortunately the bar of symbols at the bottom of my ticket revealed 3 sevens. The most coveted combination in the Westin scratch and win ticket world. I say unfortunately, because what followed was an unfortunate turn of exciting, comical and frightening events. 
The triple sevens combination, young Jason informed us, would give us a one time opportunity to win a $1000 or a 5 day retreat at a Westin of our choosing... after enjoying a mandatory 90 minute tour of their facilities, of course. This sounded like a bit of a hassle for four hungry foreigners, but we're poor cruisers and we got so excited about the possibility of winning the cash we caved. Though not without protests from our empty stomachs, which Jason promised to fill on the way to the hotel. He seemed really excited about this, much more than we did, and we quickly learned why. Bringing 2 couples in with a triple seven card for a tour meant a $400 bonus for young Jason. He was stoked. He began to coach us in terms of the types of answers we would have to provide in order to fit the ideal Westin target demographic. I guess he was supposed to ask them all before letting us scratch the tickets to make sure that we were over 30, in long term relationships, preferably with kids, earning $10,000/month per household. We are the furthest thing from what Jason needed to bring in, but he didn't care. He just fed us the answers. Justyna and Gerrard had to pretend to be a couple of 6 years and they took their roles very seriously, beginning to bicker on cue. Jason spoke fast and erratically about what we should expect and we began to feel uneasy about our part in it, but by then we were already in his car and driving towards the Westin resort. 
As promised, Jason was taking us to eat first, but upon checking the contents of his wallet he announced he had very little money and needed to stop by a friend's to borrow some. Uh-oh! We exchanged a few suspicious glances. Justyna said to me in Polish: "This is beginning to feel like that time I got robbed in Jamaica". Uh-oh! Jason called his friend and spoke in French, something about meeting him at the beach. We drove on. When we got to the beach the friend was not there. Another short, cryptic phone conversation followed. We decided we didn't need Jason to pay for lunch. We could cover it if he only just got us to a place we could eat. We didn't feel in danger, the area we were driving through was populated, but we were certainly apprehensive. This guy's behavior was proving to be less than professional and it concerned us. We pulled up to a small convenience store with a deli counter to get sandwiches. It felt good to get out of that car. Jason wasn't threatening in any way, he even showed me his driver's license, but we still felt uneasy. I think he sensed it and when we asked how much further to the resort he asked the lady at the deli counter to confirm that it was just down the road. Seeing as though the place he was taking us to really existed, we felt relieved and piled back into his car after our sandwiches were ready. We were fed and a bit more comfortable, until Jason pulled into a parking lot saying he was going to grab that money from his friend after all. He jumped out of the car and disappeared inside a storefront. We didn't know what to do. Justyna laughed nervously saying: "Something like this happened right before I got robbed in Jamaica". Gabe was starting to get a really bad vibe, and when Jason emerged from the store followed by his friend, Gabe got out of the car and watched them. Jason's friend walked over to his own car and pulled something out. It was a stack of pamphlets, with details about some other prizes available to us. Clearly this other fellow was Jason's work associate, helping his buddy seal the deal. That's all. Clearly Gabe was overreacting. Or was he? He began whispering in my left ear just how wrong all this felt. Justyna sat in the back seat with us, over to my right, speaking in Polish about how it all felt wrong to her too. And then Jason told us the resort was just over there, down the hill and beyond this really awesome beach we just had to see. It was going to be a short detour, but well worth the views. Once again, laughing with disbelief, reluctant to accept that it might actually be true, Justyna whispered: "It's starting to look more and more like the time I got robbed in Jamaica". That's when Gabriel said we needed to get out of the car. Whatever it took. Thankfully it didn't take much. Jason stopped the car promptly when Gabe faked car sickness and demanded to be let out. Everyone piled out. Confused at first we tried to comfort Gabe, never truly realizing it was a ruse. So did Jason and once he saw through it he seemed to be genuinely affected. He asked if we're getting out because we didn't trust him and I had to tell him that yes, his conduct left too much to the imagination. We were glad to see a "maxi taxi" come around the corner and we hailed it. Once in the safety of the van tensions relaxed and we laughed. We laughed at our stupidity, at our gullibility. We laughed at Gabe's outstanding performance. The way he staggered out of the car, bent in half, grasping for a nearby wall and dry-heaving. We laughed at our dumb luck and at poor Jason, who in the end seemed very hurt by our betrayal. Ultimately we came to agree that we may not have been in danger, but we all felt we were being played, and that was bad enough. Gabe had a strong hunch that he refused to ignore and we're very glad we followed his lead, especially that after a quick internet search the next morning we learnt that Jason and his Westin resort deal were in fact a fraud. 

Fair enough

No I don't think it's fair that our friends and family work hard to carry on, responsibly, through the daily routines of their lives back home while we squander a good portion of our savings on gourmet creole dinners, French wine and fresh baguettes. I don't think it's fair that the people we care about the most are left to fight traffic on their morning commute, while some days the biggest challenge we face is deciding what kind of rum to put in a ti-punch or how much sun screen to use. We don't always have it easy, as you know from previous entries, but we do have it pretty sweet most of the time. That's why we've extended an open invitation to all of our family and friends to come join us for as long as they can, whenever they can. Sometimes I wonder what we did to deserve this life, this adventure. And the simple answer, I've discovered, is we left port. We took a chance on the boat, on each other and our ability to handle this challenge. We stepped out of our comfort zone to discover something about ourselves and the world around us. We leapt, and we have encouraged others to do it with us. 
This month my friend Justyna flew in from Edmonton to accompany us on the passage between St. Martin and Guadeloupe. We picked her up at the small airport on the Dutch side of St. Martin and transported her to Rodeo on our friend's dinghy. Ours is barely big enough for the two of us, let alone a guest and her luggage. Already low to the water "Mini Max" would never make it from Marigot Bay to the airport without taking on the liquid waste that fills Simpson Lagoon, which separates St. Martin from St. Maarten. The lagoon is filthy, especially on the French side. It is a landlocked body of water accessible only via 2 bridges, one on each side of the island. It is home to dozens of charter boats, permanently anchored live-aboards and countless transient cruisers. Effluent from these boats is constantly and visibly fed into the stagnant waters of the lagoon. Absolutely revolting. 
Rodeo was anchored out in Marigot Bay, on the open ocean side, where water was moving and clean, but every trip into town was a health hazard. I'm not even exaggerating. Shielding our hands from contact with lagoon water and plugging our noses was all we could do to keep our breakfast (of delicious crisp pastries and fresh coffee) down and staph infections at bay. By the time Justyna arrived on a Thursday afternoon, May 12, we had already been there a few days and had no desire to stay any longer. After our friend unpacked and settled in we made a move for cleaner pastures, a neighboring bay of Grand Case. Thursday night is salsa night at Calmos Cafe in Grand Case, and that's where we headed after a modest supper of BBQ tuna, coleslaw and rice. The waterfront cafe is as much a local hang out as a tourist attraction. No more than a beach shack with most of its low tables nestled in the sand, it's a quirky and fun place with a laid back atmosphere and a killer drink menu. We felt obliged to drink, laugh and kick up some dust on the sandy dance floor way past our usual bed time. I know, life is tough. But like I said, it could be for you, too. The invitation stands.

More of the good stuff

Caneel Bay is home to an awfully gorgeous resort, set amidst the ruins of an old plantation. The main building is low lying, colonial style, surrounded by lush vegetation and tropical flowers. Inconspicuous cabanas, tucked into dense foliage, spread across the hills of the estate, each with a view of the bay. The long stretch of the beach is backed by rolling hills threaded together by a handful of narrow roads that wind about the island. We spent a few leisurely days in Caneel, taking time to explore the neighboring town, too. While there we picked up a hiking trail guide and some informational pamphlets. I'm telling you, we were having a hard time sticking to our preconceptions as we learned more about St.John.
After Caneel Bay we moved a whopping mile north to Hawksnest Bay to find another charming mooring with more stunning beaches. Later that day we were joined by Blue Kai, who had caught up to us after a 3 day detour to visit St.Thomas and together we set out on a short hike that led us to old sugar mill ruins. Rye and Hanna, the youngest crew from Blue Kai spent their time climbing rocks and snapping photos of everything in site while the adults discussed the finer points of cruising. Gabe and I hovered somewhere in between. We usually do. We have become very fond of the kids and we tend to get drawn out of the adult world and into theirs when we're all together. Since reuniting with all three boats in St.John, we have spent most of our time as a group, exploring the island by day and sharing pot luck dinners at night. Gabe's birthday was no exception. We joint forces for a BBQ on the beach to celebrate. Hawksnest Beach has common grilling areas with picnic tables, hidden among the trees. We took over one of those and caroused till dark, at which point we moved the festivities aboard Blue Kai for shots of Yagermaister and cake. Some sang and some danced until the children fell tired into the laps of their parents. The rest of us quickly took cue and retired to our own boats. 
Following morning we were on the move again, this time to Francis Bay at the north end of St. John. We loved Hawksnest because of its setting, but the mooring field was shielded from wind yet exposed to ocean swell, which meant pretty rolly nights. Without sufficient wind to push the boat away from the mooring ball, it was at liberty to smack into our haul as the rolling sea drove us into it. The hollow thuds were pretty hard to ignore the first night it happened. When it became obvious that we wouldn't be able to dodge the ball the next night, Gabe brought it out of the water and onto our deck. It worked, the banging stopped. Still, the swell persisted and even without the assault from the mooring ball we had a few rough nights of sleep. That's one of the reasons why Francis Bay was such a welcome change. It allowed enough wind to push Rodeo away from the mooring ball, but was sheltered from the swell. Having secured the boat we went ashore to check out the beach and the forest beyond it. There we a discovery path led us through the woods and towards mud planes. The path was a boardwalk, raised off the ground to minimize our impact on the soft forest soil. Lookout points granted clear views of the mud planes where curlews waded through wet spots, fishing for crab. Wild deer and chickens could be seen rustling through the dried leaf bedding of  the woods. Mongoose and lizards were hiding in the cool shade of the trees. The island was truly captivating and we could no longer deny it. We were getting smacked right in the face with it. 

Be careful what you wish for

We wanted to avoid going to the US and British Virgin Islands if we could help it. We felt asa though it wasn't going to be our cup of tea. Countless charter boats unloading masked bandits into our water, scaring our fish; beach combing tourist kicking up sand, disturbing our utopia! We certainly didn't tread the thorny path all this way to put up with that. Sure we wanted internet access and good provisioning, maybe a bar stool to kick off our sandals from at happy hour, and still feel like we were a world away from civilization. But at what cost?! The serenity of it would surely be ruined by the hoards of sun worshipers stepping on our sandy toes. Turned out St. John in the US Virgin Islands had enough beaches, palm trees and enough water for us to displace into our own little paradise. No elbow pushing necessary. Most of the island is a very well managed National Park with small settlements and resorts dispersed throughout. We joined our friends on Katarina in Caneel Bay, just outside a quaint little town of Cruz Bay. At 4PM it was still bustling with the day's activities. Large catamaran charters were picking up schools of beached snorkelers who had spent the afternoon exploring the area, but by 6 it all began to quiet down. We settled in for the evening on a mooring ball provided by the park. Anchoring is discouraged, because it damages coral and sea grass beds. We were happy to oblige. We set in the bay with a great view of St.Thomas on the other side of the channel. As the sun set over its hills, the city lights began to glow in the distance, serenaded by quiet lapping of waves against the nearby shore behind us. We were able to pick up internet from a resort close by, Cruz Bay and all of its conveniences were just around the corner, beneath us 30ft of clear, cool water arrested by a long stretch of a palm fringed beach. It was perfect. And we hated to admit it. We knew we were going to enjoy it, despite ourselves.

Magic all around

We spent a few days bobbing around Culebra Island and its sister island Culebrita, a National Turtle Sanctuary, where we were able catch a glimpse of some native Green Turtles and their habitat. At Culebrita we rafted together with our friends on Pura Vida and Blue Kai. We swam together, explored together, and at the end of the day we shared meals together. A little floating commune. Culebrita was a blast. An unpopulated island with beautiful ruins of a light house that afforded stunning views of the area and great swimming and snorkeling, which meant great hunting grounds for Gabe. He loves diving and spear fishing, he does it with compulsive determination. He has gotten very good at it, and we were all reaping the benefits, but the few 5lb lobsters Gabe could catch at Culebrita would only feed his habit for so long. He needed a bigger hit. We heard through the cruising grape vine, that Vieques Island, just south of Culebrita had what Gabe needed and we all coveted: bigger, juicier lobster. We moved our flotilla to Vieques where Gabe and the boys from the rest of our fleet set out on a dive immediately upon arrival. Like I said, compulsive determination. And it paid off. We dined on lobster alfredo that night, but it wasn't until the following day that he speared a 20lb king of the reef. We pot lucked on Blue Kai that evening along with friends from Pura Vida and Saltwhistle, 12 of us in total. Oh what a feast that was. Complete with French 75 cocktails by Susan and tuna patties by Gerard, who sang and played guitar for us after dinner. But the treat of the night came once we got back in our dinghy and made way for Rodeo. South coast of Vieques is famous for abundant bioluminescence which flares up on the surface of the water when it's disturbed. There in Bahia Salina del Sur, under a nearly perfect cover of the night, with only the light from our anchored boats piercing it, we saw what looked like underwater fireworks. Ahead flashes of lime green glow appeared deep under the surface, where current and fish disturbed the luminescent microorganisms, while the wake from our propeller left a milky way of glowing dust behind us. It was magical. 

All's well that ends well

Despite all of its natural beauty the Dominican Republic just didn't click with us. We really enjoyed the quietness of our first anchorage, Bahia de las Aguilas and the magnificent climb up to see El Limón, but in the long run DR left a bitter-sweet taste in our mouths. Much like Boca Chica, Las Terrenas is a tourist town that attracts a great deal of working girls and foreign visitors in search of them. Many European and American expats settle there because of this "natural resource". We found the atmosphere in both towns disquieting and depressing. Brazen glances from burnt out, middle aged gringos followed girls around everywhere. I couldn't help but feel a part of the meat market, even in the company of Gabe and João. 
There was also garbage everywhere. Beaches and streets were awash with plastic wrappers and styrofoam cups. But what I found most heartbreaking in DR was the mistreatment of cats and dogs. City streets are full of battered, hungry animals that wonder around in search of their next meal. Dominicans have no sympathy or patience for them. They get kicked, run over and left to live out their miserable lives on empty stomachs. 
Dealing with Marina de Guerra, especially in Boca Chica, further cemented our sentiments toward DR. The day before our scheduled departure from port, Rodeo and 2 other boats traveling with us were boarded by the Customs and Immigration as well as Drug Enforcement officers. It was late Friday afternoon, and these guys had apparently started their weekend a few hours prematurely. They were drunk, rude and very unprofessional. We watched from our cockpit as one of them urinated on our neighbors' boat before boarding it. They later told us that one of the officers stole a camera while performing "a routine search of their boat". It was a farce. The four officers pulled up to Rodeo and began swearing at Gabe in spanish, laughing, until the marina manager, who brought them out on a tender warned them that Gabe speaks it fluently. That made them laugh even harder and they began to turn it all into a joke. They came down below requesting drinks, when we told them we had no alcohol on board, they started tossing cushions, opening cupboards and looking through personal items. It all seamed very superficial and pointless. At one point the Drug Enforcement officer pulled Gabe aside and asked if he wanted to buy drugs. We had no choice but to grin and bare it. We needed those clowns to clear us out of the country and give us the despacho for Puerto Rico. It was all very disheartening and we were all too happy to leave it behind. 
Now that we're in Puerto Rico we let out a quiet sigh of relief for having returned to the kind of cruising we love. Surrounded by clear waters, clean beaches and quiet anchorages we're swimming and diving again, back in our penny-pinching ways of making our own water and catching our own dinner. All is right with the world again. 
The Spanish Virgin Islands are shaping up to be great cruising grounds. 

El Limón

Having spent some time in Puerto Rico now, we are taken aback by the cultural differences between here and Dominican Republic. Clean streets and beaches, courteous people including law abiding drivers and  a mindful boating community, and above all a healthier natural environment. Our last port of call in the Dominican was Boca Chica. There we found more of the familiar Dominican ruckus. The only place to stay in town is Marina ZarPar, incidentally owned by the author of the cruising guide which has lead us there along the south coast of Hispaniola. Centrally located between town of Andres and Boca Chica, it was a great place from which to explore the area, and from which to appreciate it for the prime tourist destination that it is. Boca Chica beach was teeming with activity all through the days and into the nights. Power boats carrying exuberant passengers zipped across the harbor and slalomed between our moored sail boats, elevating the wake and our frustration. But despite all the activity the marina was a much needed refuge, allowing us access to proper showers, laundry and a shuttle to and from town where we could do provisioning. We also rented a car from a nearby airport and set out to explore the interior and the north coast of DR. Still in the company of our friend João Paulo, we drove towards Las Terrenas to see Dominican Republic's most beautiful waterfall, El Limón. It took us a little under 2 hours to cut across the country. Our little rental car climbed up the highlands that flank the south coast, flew pass the plains that followed and got into the mountain range of the north. The steep slopes there were covered with lush vegetation that in places revealed rich, red clay soil underneath. Wide sweeping highway serpentine took us between the peaks and towards the north coast. There we rolled through town and toward the hotel lined beaches of Las Terrenas. After grabbing a quick lunch of fried fish, chicken creole, rice and beans with tostones, we headed for the base of El Limón. There were two ways to tackle the 700 foot climb: by horse or on foot. The horse back trek would get us there in half hour, but would set us back $50 each. On foot we still had to pay for a guide, but it was a more reasonable $30 between the three of us, so we chose to do it by foot. The latter option was insistently discouraged by the base camp personnel, who tried to persuade us to do it on horse back. We watched a procession of grinning tourists click clack their way into the forest on horses, ornately outfitted in colorful, hand woven wool saddles, and I must admit it looked like fun, but we had made up our minds. Escorted by Juan, a middle aged local villager, covered in lean muscle head to toe, we slipped into the hot, moist air of the forest. There we followed the horse trail, into a ravine, across a stream, up through a canyon and into the highlands. The foot path, or hoof path rather, was soft and damp rain forest soil, strewn with horse dung and rocks. Juan wore knee high rubber boots, we tackled the slippery slopes in less appropriate foot ware. I don't know how we did it, but we flew up that mountain in less than half hour. Blood was pounding in my ears and I could barely catch a breath. Though once we reached the peak and caught first glimpse of the waterfall the looming cardiac arrest was forgotten. El Limón was falling down moss covered rock face of an adjacent cliff in a cascade of lime green water. We then eased our pace and began to make our way down toward the bottom of the falls, where we took a long, refreshing swim in the fresh, energized pool fed by El Limón. Full of new pep we dashed back up and down the mountain towards the base camp. Back in the car we devised a plan for the rest of the afternoon which included finding a hotel room for the night, taking a nap and later heading to town for drinks and dancing. We found all that and more in Las Terrenas. 

Estamos em Puerto Rico

Vinte e oito horas no mar e mais uma travessia bem sucedida.  Desta vez pela passagem de Mona (parte do mar entre Republica Dominicana e Puerto Rico), temida por muitos devido as fortes correntes contrarias e vento aliseos também sempre contra para quem vai de oeste para leste que e o nosso caso.
O highlight da travessia foi a pesca de dois peixes um atum ainda em aguas Dominicanas e o dourado ja em aguas Porto Riquenhas.
Ponce foi o nosso porto oficial de entrada no pais, em cerca de 40 minutos já estávamos com os passaportes estampados e toda a documentação do barco em dia.

Ancoramos em frente ao yacht clube de Ponce em uma bahia bem calma a nao ser pelo grande movimento de barcos que saem e entram do yacht clube.  Ponce e a segunda maior cidade de Porto Rico, pode-se achar de tudo aqui.  Aproveitamos para reabastecer a dispensa do barco.  Proximo destino,  Culebra (Ilhas Virgens Espanholas)

Dominican Republic

Our friend and new crew member João Paulo spent 10 days aboard Rodeo with us, enjoying all the benefits and discomforts afforded by our vagabond life style. 
We bounced around a few anchorages, slowly making our way toward Boca Chica, where we planned to rent a car for a trip to the interior of the country. 
The first place out of Salinas we anchored was Bahia de Ocoa. A nice enough spot with a small settlement at the heart of it and upscale villas lining the bay. We played around there for a few days, taking in the local flavor and enjoying the company of our friends on Pura Vida and Katarina. Katarina had guests on board as well. Kathryn's daughter Ashley and her partner Alex came to visit for a week. John and Kathryn hosted a pot luck dinner on our last evening in Ocoa, to get everybody together before we moved on. Our contribution was a delicious Spanish Mackerel, done in a passion fruit marinade, prepared by João and Gabe. In keeping with the Brazilian theme the boys also mixed incredible rum and passion fruit cocktails we couldn't get enough of. After supper Ashley and Alex treated us to a serenade in the cockpit. They sang in harmony while Alex played guitar and João occasionally accompanied on a harmonica. With a star riddled sky above and phosphorescent waters splashing about beneath us, we went on, some singing some humming along, all the while relishing the moment. It is a tremendous blessing to have been conned into this life at sea by the one I love, and now to be able to share it with others I've come to cherish. 
Later the following day Rodeo and Pura Vida were under way once more, bearing for Puerto Palenque. Having picked up our guest, we were no longer on a schedule and we had more flexibility in terms of weather windows. We allowed ourselves the luxury of waiting for the seas to settle and the winds to lay down before we pulled anchor and headed east this time. We arrived in Palenque just as the local fishermen were gathering enormous nets strewn right across the bay. With four men per boat, one rowed along the buoyed edge of the net, while the rest pulled and piled it inside the vessel. Upon seeing us approach toward their bread and butter they waved and screamed for us to stay back. We no more wanted to get tangled up in the net than they wanted it ripped to shreds by our propeller, so we hung outside the bay until their work was done. We watched in amazement as dozens of fishermen walked the ends of the nets along the beach, pulling it ever so tighter and closer together, until its contents were scooped out ashore to be shared among all the workers. After being allowed to enter the bay we anchored near Playa Palenque, where we spent a few restless days awaiting favorable winds and a despacho from Marina de Guerra (Dominican Coast Guard). We're required to get a despacho, a stamped and signed document of permission for every new port we intent to visit. Legally this document should be provided at no charge, but Marina de Guerra has been happily accepting administrative fees from cruisers everywhere, and we had a hard time convincing the branch at Palenque that they should cough it up for free. But Gabe finally smooth talked them into giving in, and at last we were able to plan our escape. By now we have seen quite a few tourist traps, restaurants with overpriced menus, dirty, garbage strewn beaches and roads, working girls on the prowl. Though we heard good things about Palenque and we hoped to find it to be one of those pristine locations, like Bahia de las Aguilas, it wasn't. It was less than alluring and we couldn't wait to get going toward our next port of call, Boca Chica.

Shaking things up

After a few restful days in Aguilas we were ready to take on Cabo Beata. Leaving with us were Jim and Diana on Pura Vida, while Clint and Reina on Karma decided to stay behind another couple of days, waiting for a better weather window. 
We wanted to press on despite imperfect weather conditions because Gabriel's friend João Paulo was arriving from Brazil that very day and we wanted to make it to Salinas as soon as possible so as not to make him wait too long. He was in good hands for the time being. Our friends John and Kathryn were looking after him while we played catch up. 
Having left the anchorage at first light we were in the Beata passage for most of the morning, struggling against churned up seas and opposing winds. Nothing new, we were anticipating slow and painful, but what we got was ridiculous. To make the most of the wind we had to tack back and away from our destination. The two steps forward, one step back wasn't working for us and we opted to turn back for another night on anchor in the bay, hoping for calmer seas the next day. 

Our patience was rewarded and we made Salinas two days later after a long, but uneventful passage from Cabo Beata. We arrived in Salinas harbor around 2 AM, guided in by sounds of live music and bright city lights coming off the land. It's a tricky piece of water to navigate through because the lights on shore obstruct view of any other boats or markers that lay like obstacles ahead of us. We dodged a few of them as we pulled in closer towards the anchorage, where our friends on Katarina were shining a strobe light in our direction, helping us find the spot. 
Once we had the boat settled in we turned in to catch up on some much needed sleep, but it just wouldn't come. Perhaps we were too wired from the trip. Perhaps it was the festivities taking place in town, the sounds of which could be heard all throughout the night and into the following day. It turned out that we had arrived in Salinas during a week long festival that was just beginning. Once we ventured on shore we found that a large plot of land on the outskirts of the town was designated for that purpose. A large stage was set up for live bands, some booths served drinks others offered attractions for kids. An air of revelry engulfed the town and you could see it seeping out of every doorway, lurking around every corner. Music was coming from every direction, people singing and dancing about in the streets. We got the feeling that Salinas takes their partying very seriously when we popped into local convenience stores. Supplying essentials to the towns people by day, each store had a low, long counter laid out across it, that would serve as a bar at night, or whenever necessary. Shelves behind it were stocked with most coveted brands of alcohol, as well as cans of beans, cartons of eggs and packs of diapers. Each of the stores boasted a lighting and a sound system worthy of Studio 54, and for the duration of the festival each blasted music louder than their neighbor at all hours of the day. As we travel Dominican Republic we've come to learn that when Dominicans celebrate, be it a festival, the Holy Week or just the weekend, they do it with a roar. A roar that, on occasion, shook our bodies into motion, as we swayed to the rhythms of Bachata and Merengue. 

the truck is a discotheque!

The first place we visited in Dominican Republic was Bahia de las Aguilas. A wide, calm bay on the southwest coast of the country. It took nearly 24 hours of beating against the wind (again) to get there from Ile à Vache, and we were hoping to continue on toward Isla Beata and around Cabo Beata toward Salinas, but we needed to recharge our batteries first. Our friends from Katarina and Pura Vida were at least 6 hours ahead of us and by the time we got to Aguilas they were already rounding Cabo Beata, or so we thought. After anchoring in the bay and catching a short nap we began to prepare to press forward when we heard from our friends on Karma. They left Ile a Vache a day after us and were now pulling into the same anchorage, only hours behind us. They also had news of Pura Vida, who had turned back from the cape and were now making their way over to our anchorage. The seas proved too rough and the going too challenging for their liking so they decided to wait in Aguilas for a better weather window. We were only too happy to hear that they were on their way back and concluded that it would be best to stay put with them, and enjoy this beautiful new coast stretching out in front of us. Bahia de las Aguilas is part of Jaragua National Park with desert steppe like terrain, dry forests, volcanic cliffs and lots of caves. The beach itself is secluded, best accessed by boat as the trail leading to it is rough and not often braved by tourists. A local boating cooperative set up a water taxi service that brings people to the beach on weekends, but the area is otherwise quiet and we had it to ourselves most of the time. We met some of these boat owners and arranged to have one bring the 6 of us around to their cooperative restaurant, where we could catch a ride into Pedernales, a neighboring town, to do provisioning in. What we didn't realize is that the most common mode of transportation in DR is a motorbike and Ruvem, our guide, had every intention of getting the lot of us on 2 bikes to ride into town on. That wasn't going to work. It's not uncommon here to see 3 or 4 people piled onto a motorbike, but we weren't quite up for that kind of adventure. Ruvem promised to bring a truck the next morning so that we could give this excursion another try. There was nothing left to do but grab a beer and enjoy the rest of the day on the water.
The following morning Ruvem showed up an hour late. He had engine problems and had to go back to swap boats before he came to pick us up. With everyone collected from their respective boats we made our way towards the water taxi dock where a small pick up truck was waiting for us. The driver's cabin had a bench seat, so Reina, Diana and myself squeezed into it, leaving the open flat bed in the back for the boys to enjoy. The hour ride into town was as bumpy and uncomfortable as some of our passages. But Ruvem had the radio blasting Dominican tunes, and we couldn't help but get into the rhythm of it. The road leading out of the park was unpaved clay, eroded by floods in rainy season and lacerated by tires of vehicles coming and going in and out of the park. The truck rocked from side to side and jerked front to back as Ruvem flew across the dried up ridges and welts on the road. We had a good laugh about it up front, in the safety of the cabin, but the boys arrived in town battered and sore from getting bounced around in the back. 
First stop in town was at the bank. Once we finished there Ruvem was to take us to the market, but when we squeezed back into the truck it wouldn't start. We clambered back out into the street. The boys and a few passersby helped Ruvem push start the truck, but it wouldn't budge. He had to go get help. Poor guy, this was the second time an engine failed him in one day. 

We moped around the streets and visited an internet cafe while our guide got the truck sorted out. Within an hour we had wheels again and were headed for the market after which we treated Ruvem to lunch and had him drive us back to Aguilas. They say disasters come in threes and Ruvem was due for another one, considering his luck that day. He got the final blow on our way back when a tire blew on the truck, which we found out he had borrowed from a friend just to get us around. We felt horrible. Our boys got to work and with the help of a few locals who came to our rescue, the truck was in ship shape in no time. Not knowing how to be of service in any other way Reina and I cracked open a couple of cold beers we had sitting in a cooler, and passed them around. Now back in the truck Ruvem was taking long swigs out of the jumbo size Presidente bottle, giving us control of the car that bounced along the dirt road leading back into the National Park. Bachata rhythms filled the air once more when Ruvem turned the radio up. We bobbed up and down in the cabin as the truck danced in and out of its dusty tracks, Reina exclaiming in spanish: "El camion es una discoteca!"

Ile à Vache

Monday is market day on Ile à Vache and we couldn't possibly pass up the opportunity to experience it. Our friendly guides assured us it was going to be no more than a 45 minute walk over the hill, through the island's interior and over to the other coast. We started off at the resort, a beautifully constructed complex very much in harmony with its surroundings, laid out high up on the far point of the crescent bay where our boats were anchored. There were 10 of us, 4 couples from Katarina, Pura Vida, Karma and Rodeo. Plus our guides Carma and Ashley. We took soggy foot paths along the rolling hills of the uplands, climbing up and down among fields and farm houses. Air was filled with the crisp scent of fresh tilled soil and sweet smell of tropical plants. As we made our way further inland we met more and more Haitians on their way to the market. Women with bundles on their heads and men on horseback with hand woven baskets slung over their rumps (the horse, not the men), were quickly making their way forward. We kept getting distracted by the scenery, stopping to take pictures, pausing to smell the eucalyptus. After 45 minutes of meandering it became clear that we were nowhere near the market, and that our progress was painfully slow. Especially to our guides. These guys are used to walking these trails and they kept a pace that was putting all of us out of breath. Among the 8 of us, 4 are seniors and this marathon we found our selves on was shaping up to go on for at least another 2 hours. By the time we got to the open, sun scorched grounds of the market we were spent. It was hard to imagine how people from the other side of the island make this trip twice a week to pick up essentials not available in the bay. Getting around the market and shopping was an endurance test in itself. Small open stalls made of wood posts, topped with corrugated steal or leaves lined the market pathways. Any space unoccupied by a stall vendor was flooded with merchants squatting on the ground with their goods sprawled around them. Narrow paths directed swarms of people through the chaos and we found ourselves floating through the crowds as if in a tidal swell. It was hot, crowded and loud. We couldn't do any of our shopping because vendors would come up with astronomical prices at the site of tourists. So Carma and Ashley had to do our bargaining. With bunches of bananas in hand and bags of fresh fruits and vegetables we made our way to the outskirts of the market, getting a much needed breather from the bustle of it all. Hiking for 3 hours to get back to the bay was out of the question, so we hired a local fisherman to take us back on his wooden sloop. The lot of us ungracefully piled into a boat that can safely probably only hold 8 people. There were 18 of us in it altogether. Two other tourists, some Haitians and a goat were also hitching a ride. We just had to laugh. As we pulled away from shore our captain could barely maneuver his vessel with all of us in it. We had to manually help bring the boom over everyone's heads and across for tacking, but once balanced the boat glided smoothly over the surface. Hand sewn sails, a patchwork of miss matched fabric, quietly puffing up in the warm breeze. Half hour later we were safely back on land. Hungry, but full of verve we made our way over to Jean Jean's restaurant/shack for a fabulous dinner of grilled lobster and conch saus, all the while reliving the events of the day.