Monday, December 02, 2007
Vivorillos Cays, HondurasStill here, still rolling at anchor,
waiting for an opening, which Chris Parker, the weather
guru, says we will have tomorrow as the wind slows and
shifts more northerly and the seas calm down to 3-5 feet
toward Providencia.
We have a feeling that the “incessant
begging” that Capt. Raines speaks of in his guidebook may
actually be the local fishermen, who boldly paddled up to us
yesterday in little fiberglass cayucos and offered to trade
us fresh shrimp for gasoline. Three or four pounds of
shrimp for about 2-1/2 gallons of gasoline. Not a bad
trade. We took the tank out of the dinghy, passed the guys
a funnel and a hose, and asked that they leave us about half
the tank. You could tell who the captain was by who was
sucking on the siphon and who wasn’t.
Today they were back – with fresh (like
right out of the water) conch and lobster that they cleaned
off the back of the boat, and traded for cigarettes and
rum. So it was fresh scampi with linguine for dinner.
So here’s the haul: Lobsters – 16.
Conch – 4. Shrimp – 4 pounds. Perfect helmet conch shells
– 2. Conversation – half an hour/45 minutes. Cost: 4
packs of Marlboros, 1 bottle of Captain Morgan rum, 1 bottle
of bad tequila, and the gasoline from yesterday.
Keeping Capt. Raines’ anecdotes in mind, we
boldly said our names and shook hands with each of them,
asking their names as well, while Ole took a few pictures.
We figured if we exchanged names and took pictures, any
scheme of robbing/mugging a visiting cruiser might be harder
to implement. Plus, taking the time to chat with them about
their life and their work and sharing that Ole used to fish
in Alaska helped us build a bit of a bridge. It’s that
karma thing.
Tonight it was improvised conch ceviche.
Neither Ole nor I have ever dealt with a conch – we’ve
bought fritters (Alabama Jack’s in Key Largo) and conch
chowder (15th street Fisheries in Ft.
Lauderdale), but had no clue about how to dispatch a
monovalve of such weight. So after consulting the trusty
Joy of Cooking and finding the first listing under “the best
way to eat fresh conch” was “raw,” we sliced them thin,
splashed on the lime juice, and added celery, cucumber,
tomatoes, red onion, bell pepper, and a dash of red pepper
flakes – and yummed our way through at least a quart of
salad.
What incessant begging?
A big however – we traded away a bit too
much gasoline to spend a whole lot of time in the dinghy.
We did make a trip to the bird end of the
cay, and walked among nesting boobies, some with young ones
just coming out of their downy stage, and fearless enough to
let us get within 3 feet. We packed our trusty Pentax in a
zip-lock bag, took three pictures, and poof. No batteries.
There we were, in a truly National Geographic moment, caught
with our batteries down. Here are the only pictures we
got. I guess a career as a wildlife photographer is out of
the question.
The one flaw in the excursion to the cay
was noticing all of the plastic junk piled up on the ocean
side of what we considered a wild reef: water and
soft-drink bottles, flip-flops, six-pack rings, Styrofoam.
More than just a little. Here we are, 30 miles offshore,
with the next land somewhere close to the Leeward Islands,
and there’s all this junk. Yes, we know that it is illegal
to dump plastic of any kind into the ocean. But we are
educated people. When we were in Norway this summer, I
noticed the same thing on the beach at Ole’s house. As a
species, we’re not only fouling our nest, but the nests of
these magnificent birds and reef creatures too.
I hear that we’re planning to take off
tomorrow morning at a reasonable hour, and Ole’s devised a
short cut to shave about 25 miles (4 hours) off the trip.
We’ll consult Chris the Guru, and see what develops.
Saturday, December 8
At Anchor, Providencia, ColombiaWe are tucked in at anchor in a very pretty
spot: Santa Isabel Harbor on the island of
Providencia,
a protectorate of Colombia. Only 18 kilometers
around, with a population of about 4,000, it’s pretty much
untouched by tourism and one of the friendliest places we’ve
been.
We left Vivorillos at about 9:30 on Tuesday
morning, heading south and east taking a short cut across
the Main Cape Channel, between Half Moon Cay and Alagarda
Reef before turning a bit more south toward Providencia.
What a nice ride! The wind was between 5-10 all day and
through the night, letting us experience sea swells instead
of wind chop coming slightly off our stern for the last half
of the ride. Even the cats were amazed, since our last day
in Vivorillos saw a wind shift that had us rolling back and
forth pretty violently for about 18 hours and experiencing
next to no rest. Getting underway was a relief! Our
longest passage to date of 188 miles, we tried to stand
3-hour watches and get as much rest as we could.
Of course, shit happens, though. We turned
on the generator, it ran for a few minutes, then stopped
because of high cooling water temperature. So when it
cooled off a few hours later, we tried it again and again it
stopped. The chief went down to take it apart and have a
look, and found that the problem was as simple as a hose
clamp that had broken and the cooler was sucking air instead
of water. Half an hour, and we were back in the electrical
business, happy that we wouldn’t have to throw out a freezer
full of fresh seafood.
Then at about three in the morning, Ole
found a freshwater leak in the vicinity of the port engine.
We suspected it was the water heater, since it’s 20 years
old and looking pretty rusty on the bottom, and we ordered a
replacement before we left Roatan to be waiting for us when
we arrive in Panama. But disconnecting the water heater,
then checking a few hours later, the water leak was still
there. Based on the Chief’s knowledge and intuition, it’s
the heat exchanger, a fairly simple part to replace, but not
easy to get. And running on a leaking one means getting
seawater running through the engine instead of fresh – not a
good plan in the long run. We shut down the port engine for
an hour so Ole could do his detective work, but made up the
time with a good following current.
Arriving in Providencia at 11:30 on
Wednesday morning, we found about a half dozen sailboats at
anchor, including Attitude, with Neil and Cathy, whom
we met just a few weeks ago in Utila. We anchored up in
about 10 feet of water, and Ole went ashore to meet with the
agent and do the entry formalities with the Port Captain.
Since he had to go back later in the day to meet with
immigration, I went with him and we took in the town, which
is pretty much one main street and one side street at the
head of the bay.
Everything has to come in by boat here
(although there is a very small airport), but we were amazed
that on the main street a mere four or five blocks long were
not less than three fairly large grocery stores and tiendas
of various types. There are two banks, two bakeries, an
internet café, and a few mom-and-pop restaurants, so it
seems a prosperous place. And the people here are
tri-lingual, speaking English, Spanish, and Creole with
apparently equal fluency. It’s clean, pretty, and lacks the
usual staging of tourism and its accompanying hype.
 We found a little cantina to sit in and
sample the local beer: Aguila (Eagle). Outstanding. While
we sat and watched the world go by, the agent (Mr. Bush)
joined us for a soda, then Neil and Cathy wandered past. We
compared our Vivorillos hauls, and swapped information about
what do with conch – so on the spur of the moment, we
invited them over Thursday evening to try our first attempt
at conch fritters.
Thursday, while I cleaned house and
consulted cookbooks for fritter recipes, Ole went back into
town because we couldn’t get cell signals, and he needed to
call American Diesel to talk over our heat exchanger problem
and order a spare. He made the phone call from the agent’s
office, and the agent recommended a repair guy “Mr. Bing”
who might be able to jury-rig a solution to our damaged
exchanger. That’s good news on such a small island. We
still have nearly 250 miles to go and it would be better
without worrying about a seawater-infused engine!
The conch fritters were pronounced a
success (used the recipe in the trusty Joy of Cooking), and
were accompanied by homemade garlic and rosemary focaccia.
Neil brought over a fruit “palate cleanser” – passion fruit
halves with papaya and mint, all local. This cruising stuff
is starting to make all kinds of sense. Over fritters we
agreed to meet in town on Friday to rent scooters and see
what there is to see.
Friday morning, the supermarket in town
that rents the scooters was fresh out and suggested we take
a taxi (pickup truck with bench seats along the sides of the
bed) to Freshwater Bay, where we found a clutch of scooters
and golf carts and negotiated a rate of $5 per hour with no
paperwork. I like this place. The island itself is
volcanic, with a sharp, rugged interior (no roads and cows
with two long legs and two short legs) and a coast road.
Most of the traffic is scooters and improvised trucks. Most
of the businesses seem to be concentrated in the town of
Santa Catalina, with a few little hotels, restaurants, and
dive shops in Freshwater Bay.
The highlight of the trip was an impromptu
stop at Refugio de la Luna, the studio of an artisan named
Carmeni Correa, who is living the kind of life I’d love to
someday. She works in papier mache, creating whimsical sea
creatures, panels, and sculptures in vibrant, primitive
colors from her house on The Bluff. A steep path leads from
the road, through a tunnel of flowers, fruit trees, and
scurrying indigenous blue lizards. We were met by three
dogs, , two cats and Carmeni smiling from the balcony. Her
house is a simple two-story concrete block construction,
with a corrugated roof and glassless shuttered windows, all
decorated with murals and stenciled cutouts painted with
fish, birds, and flowers. She works in the open air from a
wide, shaded balcony overlooking papayas, bananas, avocado,
lime, orange and plumarosa trees and out to the sea. Her
house is her gallery – the simple whitewashed walls and white
wicker furniture make her art sparkle. She told us she
walks every morning, and uses a lot of “found” objects and
trash to get started, obtaining her cardboard and paper from
the back of a local tienda, using plastic bottles as the
framework for some of her creatures – a neighbor called her
to report half a mannequin had washed up on the beach and
that became a fantastic mermaid rising from the sea. We
couldn’t leave without buying something – so there’s a new
golden seahorse ready for the Christmas tree!
Another interesting stop for lunch allowed
us to meet a man who is operating a hotel and restaurant
that sits on the spot formerly occupied by his parents’
home, their original concrete entry steps sit all by
themselves in a place of honor in the garden. The story is
that during the late 60’s a lot of hippies from Europe
discovered Providencia, and came with backpacks and tents.
His mother offered her garden, charging the hippies a few
pesos for a clean and safe spot to pitch their tents. She
spotted another opportunity when, during cooking, she
noticed hungry looks from the garden, and a restaurant was
born. Today, the hotel is a collection of bright yellow
frame buildings trimmed in red and blue, with a restaurant
perched in the open air right at the water’s edge, looking
due west. The food was good, the beer was cold, and the
proprietor was charming. Who could ask for more.
On our return to town we found out some
good news – the leak in the heat exchanger is a small one.
Word from the Chief is that up to 10% of the tubes in the
exchanger can be plugged without impairing its function.
This exchanger has only one bad tube. Karma wins!
Today, Saturday, we’ve been boat-bound, as
some weather blew in last night. We’ve clocked winds of 29
knots – Attitude, with a far more accurate wind generator,
has clocked over 31. Rain squalls have been blowing
throughout the day. Ole’s been inventorying spare parts.
I’ve been reading and napping. Tomorrow’s Sunday and we
understand most of the local businesses are closed. If the
weather lightens up a bit, we’ll go ashore and take a walk
around the little island of Santa Catalina which is
connected to town by a colorful footbridge.
Now it’s time for gin and tonics, as the sun
has gone down.
Wednesday, December 12, 2007
At Anchor, Catalina Harbor, ProvidenciaWe’ve been here a week, and three days of
it were “boat bound,” due to some pretty brisk winds that
threatened to drag us (again). Friday evening, after a
great day of scootering around the island, we went over to
Attitude for happy hour. As soon as we stepped
aboard, Neil and Dale (s/v Orangi) pointed and
shouted simultaneously “You’re dragging!” which prompted a
hasty three-man rescue attempt to try to prevent Emma Jo
from blowing into Attitude. Cathy, Dillis and I sat
and enjoyed the show, but the wind continued upwards of
20-30 knots through Monday and we didn’t’ feel comfortable
leaving the boat to go into town.
Ole did make it to town yesterday morning,
though, to pick up the repaired heat exchanger for the port
engine. Cost was 200,000 pesos (more or less $100), and the
leak was small – the repairman only had to plug about 3 of
the little tubes. That was the good news.
The bad news is that yesterday afternoon we
had planned to go ashore to stretch our legs, and as Ole
stepped from the shower, he noticed the shower pump was not
working. A hasty inspection found the bilge full of gray
water. No telling how long the pump had been out.
Fortunately he had a spare pump and float switch, and by
4:00 we were pretty much back in business.
We dinghied into town to find that all
satellite services to Providencia have been down for 9 days,
so there is no telephone or internet to be had. So we
stopped in at the bakery and had fresh lemon pie and coffee,
swapped some books at the exchange in the bakery, and
browsed the general store for Christmas cards. It felt good
to walk a bit.
In the early evening after the sun went
down, we noticed the locals were out and about, in the
tradition of an evening paseo – young men and women,
families, grandmas and grandpas just strolling or sitting
along the brightly painted little malecon. It’s worth
pondering what life could be like when what you do in the
evening is just go for a walk with your friends or family
and talk to your neighbors, instead of being shut in with
the television or the computer. The agent, Bernardo Bush,
told us that crime is virtually unheard of here, even though
there is a marine base and small police presence (or maybe
because of it). We noticed that there is no undercurrent of
hostility or danger here, unlike some of the other Caribbean
islands we’ve visited, maybe due to the island’s history.
The cruising guides we’ve read remark that here in
Providencia people are actually glad to welcome you, and
everyone we’ve passed on the street has been pleasant and
openly friendly.
This afternoon we decided to go ashore for
lunch, to a place on Isla Santa Catalina called Bambu. The
architecture was pretty remarkable – just a framework of
huge bamboo assembled as posts and beams around a paved
courtyard, with a little outbuilding that served as
bar/kitchen. The proprietor, an energetic 40-ish man asked
if he could just “drive” our lunch, by which we figured he
meant just decide and cook for us. We happily agreed. Our
first course was “crab toes” – the small minor claws of land
crabs, which are abundant here, prepared in butter and
garlic. Olivier, the chef/proprietor, giggled as he watched
us wolfing them down, saying “they are addictive – I could
eat a couple of hundred at a time.” He was right. This
first course was accompanied by some salmon (!) ceviche,
marinated in olive oil, herbs and lime, and homemade bread
with a spread we think was crab roe. The main course was a
beautiful array of perfectly fried sprats, little fishes
looking like art displayed on a plain wooden slab with a
large leaf and bougainvillea flower, with amazingly crisp
plantains, rice and salad. All happily washed down
with a cold Aguila. Olivier and his wife, a former
journalist from Bogota, moved here two years ago and seemed
insanely happy. I think I would be too.
We went to town to check out with Mr. Bush,
then took a little walk around Isla Santa Catalina which is
connected by a bright floating footbridge from the main
town. About 200 people live here, very simply. The island
is tidy, well-groomed, and fringed with a malecon, or
walkway, along the water. We strolled by folks just sitting
on their porches talking, and little kids out fishing for
sprats with what looked like mom’s tablecloth. The end of
the malecon leads upward to the remains of a 17th
century fort which we think was used by pirates to repel the
more lawful ships in the area.
After a light dinner on deck, we left at 2:00
a.m. for the 73 mile trip to the Albuquerque Cays --
about a third of the way to Bocas del Toro.
Tuesday, December 18, 2007
Albuquerque Cays, Columbia
Wow.
We are sitting at anchor in the most
amazing place. The
Albuquerque Cays are two tiny (less than
600 ft wide) coconut-fringed islets surrounded by a circular
reef about 110 miles off the central Nicaraguan coast, and
about 30 miles south of San Andres. We are at anchor
between and a little to the west of the two cays, in about
25 feet of the clearest water I’ve ever seen.
 The northern cay has an outpost of the
Colombian Navy – 9 sailors – who man a communication
station here. We were asked to come ashore and register with
them, so as our dinghy pulled up, all nine guys, in uniforms
consisting of khaki shorts and dog tags, came out to meet us
and escort us to their commandant. They speak no English,
but were gracious, charming, and hospitable, posing for a
photo for us, then escorting us on a tour of the base. At
the end of the tour, one of the young men asked me to go
back with him to the camp, where he offered me my pick of
small, beautiful shells. Apparently, the guys are stationed
here for 30 days at a time, ferried here with a month’s
worth of provisions and DVDs. The site of a pleasure boat,
and the chance to talk to tourists, breaks up the monotony
for them.
The southern cay has a fish camp, where it
seems about a dozen guys have a shelter, a generator, and a
nightly bonfire. They go out to the reef in their lanchas
in the morning, returning about 5:00 in the afternoon to tie
off to their buoys and clean conch for two hours before
finishing for the day. We’ve been here since the 13th,
but haven’t seen a supply boat yet. Unlike Vivorillos, the
fishermen haven’t approached us directly, but they wave as
they pass in the mornings and afternoons.
Snorkeling here has been fantastic, with
both shallow and deep places to explore. Ole’s finally got
the right gear, and is beginning to relax and really enjoy
the experience, although sighting a small nurse shark wasn’t
exactly comforting. We’ve seen the usual reef fishes, but
found ourselves in a current of blue tang that felt like
some sort of great migration, and the gray angelfish here
are the size of dinner plates. Out in deeper water, I got
the chance to see a spotted eagle ray and followed him for
about 15 minutes in 30-40 feet of water.
One of the highlights of being here is
we’ve had company for the first several days. Attitude,
with Neil and Cathy, is anchored ahead of us about 300
feet. They invited us over for fish curry the other night
(the unfortunate but tasty demise of one of Neil’s
snorkeling finds), but a half hour before we were due to
join them, we got a radio call from the commandant at the
navy base. In my limited way, I understood that he wanted
us to come ashore for something, so Ole threw on his
clothes, grabbed the boat papers, and when he got ashore was
greeted by 4 guys in full uniform with machine guns. The
panic subsided when, by clever use of hand gestures Ole was
made to understand he was being pressed into service in the
Colombian Navy, to ferry the four sailors to the fish camp
to check on a new arrival. Unfortunately we have no
pictures to document this service.
Once that mission had been accomplished and
we arrived at Neil and Cathy’s, we pondered the Colombian
Navy (Armada, in espanol) and the lack of water
transportation for these 9 sailors -- and we ate, drank,
talked and laughed until late.
Today we’re just sitting at anchor, watching
squall after squall pass through and thank Neptune that we
snorkeled the anchor and found it buried, with a large coral
head between it and the boat. Attitude left
yesterday morning for Bocas del Toro, heading for the same
marina as we are. They preferred the 15-20 knot winds of
yesterday. We’re waiting for tomorrow, when the squalls
dissipate and it’s expected to slow down to 10-15 knots,
which will have us arriving in Bocas on December 20 as
planned. We’ve got about 180 more miles to go, which should
make for one last 24-hour passage. Emma Jo has been very
very good to us so far this trip!
Whoever thought the Pedersens and cats
would spend a New Year’s Eve in west of nowhere, Panama!
We arrived here on schedule on the morning
of December 20, after a good passage down from
Albuquerque Cay.
The toughest part of the trip was getting OUT of Albuquerque
Cay, given it’s a reef system about 7 miles long and about 3
miles wide, full of coral heads and water so clear you can tell
the sex of the crabs on the bottom. It was quite the diaper
changer getting out, due to a good breeze and wind chop that
distorted our ability to read the water – Jan on the foredeck,
Ole at the depth sounder in the pilothouse, with walkie-talkies –
it took us nearly an hour to zigzag out with a few narrow
misses of coral pillars that arose out of nowhere.
The passage down was pleasant, especially
in the morning as we approached the entrance to Bocas del Toro.
There is quite a long fetch, and the wave height increased to
probably 6-9 feet – but with a light wind, all we experienced
was looooonnnnngggg sloooooowwww rollers that allowed us to just
surf pleasantly through the entrance between Isla Carenero and
Isla Bastimentos. Waiting for us at Marina Carenero were Kathy
and Neil, as well as Mack and the marina boys who helped us tie
up. The Port Captain and officials came over to clear us in,
collect their beer and fees – then we had to go over to town to
finish three more steps in the clearing-in cha-cha, visiting the
bank (modern! Air-conditioned!) to buy a stamp, deliver the
stamp and our passports to the immigration guy at the airport
who licked the stamp and explained our length of stay, then the
Port Captain, who typed up the document he had handwritten while
aboard. Final tally: $160 and 5 beers. Not bad. But then
there are additional fees and stamps for the cats, which the
agriculture guy will take care of.
Christmas Eve we hosted our annual glogg
party, complete with krumkake, pepparkake, and fatigmann, for
all the folks at the marina. We had 15 people aboard until
about 5:00 – at which time we kicked everybody off and Ole
started cooking our untraditional rib dinner with a slab of pork
short ribs we carried from Guatemala (no fat, not much meat) and
some packages of red and green sauerkraut we brought back from
Norway. The tragedy was that we had to settle for Grey Goose
vodka, having forgotten to pack the aquavit aboard this year.
But it was Christmas nonetheless.
Neil and Kathy scored a leg of lamb from
the gourmet grocery in town and were kind enough to invite us to
share dinner Christmas Day with their friends Craig and Nicky
from the UK – and, since Mack was alone for Christmas, he came
along too (contributing fresh rosemary from his herb garden and
a great selection of cheese). Craig and Nicky contributed a
no-kidding plum pudding and traditional crackers from England
and the evening was full of good wine, good company and lots of
laughs, just like Christmas ought to be.
The weather hasn’t been all that great,
with lots of equatorial rain falling nearly every day. Ole has
been working like a champ installing the new water heater we
ordered before we left Guatemala, which finally arrived two days
after Christmas (only 10 days late). It’s a good thing, too,
since at 20 years old, it’s probably the next thing that would
have failed. When he hauled it up out of the engine room the
entire bottom was rusted.
Joined up with Neil, Kathy, and Craig and
Nicky to form a trivia team – The Intrepid International Idiot
Savant Society – to participate in a trivia contest over at
Bocas Yacht Club to benefit a fund for school children. It
costs each child about $50 before they can even attend school –
a uniform (with shoes) is required, plus a backpack and
miscellaneous school supplies. The contest consisted of 30
questions put together by Geoffrey of Panache (an ex RAF-type),
and the fundraising was done by passing a wizard’s hat. --
Look about a third of the way down this link --About
10 teams participated, and we won, answering 22.5 out of 30
questions correctly (including naming all 7 dwarves, and no,
Sneaky and Sleazy are NOT two of them), in spite of torrential
rain and blowing wind that required us to share umbrellas to
cover the soggy answer sheets. Our grand prize was a half
gallon of rum (yo ho ho) and an article about Geoffrey in the
Bocas Breeze.
We’ve explored a few restaurants in town,
and found the food a bit more sophisticated than in Guatemala.
With so many ex-pats here in Bocas there are plenty to choose
from. There are two good Chinese hardware stores and three good
groceries that seem to have everything we need. When those
fail, there’s the Super Gourmet, run by an expat who knows about
fresh produce, good cheese and deli meat – as well as American
and English specialty food. Rumor has it that someone is
actually opening a pet store in the next few months, so we
almost have all the comforts of home.
The marina seems to have everything we’ll
need for a long stay – good laundry, showers, and nice community
of cruisers. One drawback though is the thickness of the cloud
of “chitras” (no-see-ums or sand-fleas) that show up every
morning at sunrise and every evening just before sunset. They
don’t really bite like mosquitoes – they spit a little drop of
acid on the skin to break it up for them to eat. And the bites
feel like little pin-pricks of acid. Nothing for them except
lots of deet and a local soap that seems to keep them at bay.
Thank goodness they haven’t penetrated downstairs to the
bedroom!
We’re going to celebrate New Year’s Eve
next door at a little restaurant over the water called the
Cosmic Crab – for $20 we’ll get filet mignon, Caesar salad,
dessert, entertainment – and we can bring our own wine! Should
be fun.
Happy New Year to All from Emma Jo!
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