For those of you wondering what happened to the Venezuela bound boat, she was motored over to Cartegena where she is having work done. Though Venezuela is renowned for inexpensive refitting, my friends living in the area tell me that Cartegena has a couple of boatyards that also do good budget work.
Back to Bocas: The Lats and Atts offices are in a building that overlooks the marina where my boat is. On my bicycle commute between Low Key and my desk I ride by "A" dock where the big boats get put. A few slips down from Lost Soul's old spot was a new Beneteau 43 - Tommy Bahama edition. Over time, I watched Camaraderie II get fitted out for cruising and then suddenly she was gone - another success story.
The next time I saw the boat she was on the Caribbean side of the Panama Canal at my home away from home, little Bocas del Toro. Cam II needed to be moved up to Miami - 1200nm to windward. On my friend Chuck's recommendation I found myself back in Bocas to sail off into the Caribbean once again.
You know the drill by now. The crew search email went out. Eric Stone provided me with Wade who used to be a shrimp boat captain in the south. Wade was finishing up another job and so I arrived in paradise before him. The boat was still in new condition which was a wonderful contrast from my previous local adventure. You could tell the owners had spent some time at the boatshows, they had one or two of everything. A lot of it was stuff that I find distracting from the simple joys of cruising. I fit most of it in the aft stateroom which meant Wade would be sleeping in the saloon.
If I haven't mentioned it I'm a fan of Bocas. My friends Chuck, Ann and Charky run the marina and bar/restaurant and if that is not enough of a reason to like the place the little town, just a water taxi away, is a nice spot too. I was able to fuel up, do the first food run along with most of the checkout before Wade even got there. I got to work with a female port captain, a first for me in a Latin American country. The Customs girls who came out to the boat were nice too, no machismo just quick business with a sweet smile.
I met Wade at the mini airport and got him checked into and out of Panama in one go. We got the provisioning done and I took him out for a 'last meal' and some Seca con Leche at one of the Bocas over-the-water bars where we were served by a couple of dusky Latin lasses. I had a final check of the weather. Passageweather.com is my new favorite - 8 days of animated downloadable wind strength and direction, free.
First thing the next morning we got in the water and cleaned the bottom. She had a sporty bulb keel and folding Max-Prop which always makes for a faster passage. Cam II only held 53 gallons of diesel which is a concern in a 1200 mile mostly upwind passage. There would be fuel stops.
We said our goodbyes to friends old and new. That was the part of cruising I never got used to. We eased her almost 9 foot draft over the beautiful reefs to get to the channel and then turned for the freedom of the sea. We pulled the inmast furling main out, being careful to keep a little tension on the furling line. One of the vertical battens jammed in the mast. We learned that with the topping lift at just the right length and the boat at just the right angle to the wind we could … just kidding, the inmast furling jammed no matter what we did.
We had to motorsail the first leg 350nm to get up and around the top of Nicaragua so we could fall off to a reach and sail the 400nm to Isla Mujeres. You know the upwind settings, when keeping a tight schedule: main sheeted hard to center, motoring at cruising rpm, turn the boat off the wind until the main just fills and you have some heel. This should also keep you from pointing directly into the chop or swell. It's fast, it's more comfortable.
It was the middle of the night when we spotted her, a very large dark spot on the horizon. The boat stuck out like a sore thumb, not fooling anyone. She seemed to be traveling at the same speed and direction as us. I hailed the "Northbound vessel" twice with no response. I turned out our lights and adjusted course. She didn't follow.
I came up for my morning watch. Wade was reading a magazine. He gave me the pertinent details on conditions etc. for the watch changeover and headed for his bunk adding, "And there's a Coast Guard cutter following us." Are they allowed to tool around at night without their lights on not answering the radio? Maybe.
At 0830, with a big plume of soot shooting out the top of the boat, 270 feet of Coast Guard cutter came barreling up. I was impressed … with the squandering of my countries resources. There was a radio conversation and soon we were boarded. As with officials in foreign countries, we were real hospitable. The CG asks then checks for guns etc. They take ID's and in Wade's and my case, CG licenses. Then the digging begins. Of course we went through the lockers, settees, bilges and on. I had to remove and put back everything in that well packed aft cabin, twice. They rubbed swabs around the boat which were taken back to the ship for testing. I've seen it all before, just not so drawn out.
Four and a half hours later they left us. Anyone heard of drug sniffing dogs? I should say that every one of the kids that the bridge sent to do their dirty work were super nice and even funny. But with marks on the side of the boat where their skiff had been 'landing', black boot streaks on the teak decks, scuff marks throughout the new interior from belt-hung guns and flashlights; I felt a little used.
The good news is that they found something. It wasn't all for naught. At 0830 the next morning they boarded us again for another four and a half hours. They had reportedly found a trace of a substance that could be used to cut illegal cocaine. Wade and I had a couple coldies on the aft deck while we mulled over what a great story this was going to make, regardless of the outcome.
I let them do most of the work this time as they went through everything again and added some measuring for hidden compartments and some whacky holding tank pumping experiment. Nothing else was found, they split and we didn't see them again. You should know that I appreciate the CG and believe they are an integral part of maritime … you can fill in the rest.
As they had required us to change course we missed our fueling stop at a little Columbian island I like. I had to recalculate our fuel usage. We lowered the rpms and continued on. The next afternoon we ran out of fuel. If it had happened forty minutes earlier we wouldn't have made it around the reefs that extend out from the upper corner of Nicaragua. Wouldn't have made it without having to tack out, that is. We unleashed the headsail and Cam II screamed off on a reach toward the paradise of Isla Mujeres Mexico. Tune in next issue for our visit to one of my favorite Mexican ports followed by stops in Key West and Miami.
www.captainwoody.com
Showing posts with label Bocas del Toro Cruising Sailing Adventure Travel. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Bocas del Toro Cruising Sailing Adventure Travel. Show all posts
October 8, 2008
June 8, 2008
100nm delivery I - #98
I had a few weeks off before we all had to fly down to New Zealand for Share the Sail. I had cleared my schedule so that I could put the finishing touches into the circumnavigation book. The phone rang, as it does. It was one of those Skype numbers that begins with a bunch of zeros and would mean that I would soon be booking airfare to somewhere warm. It was our old friend Chuck. He was running the Bocas Del Toro Marina in Panama. Bocas is the premiere hurricane hideout on the west side of the Caribbean. Chuck had a client in the marina who wanted his boat moved to the dock in front of his house in Venezuela. Venezuela? Love to.
I emailed the owner and got some trip specifics and returned him a quote. I explained that I had plenty of time to do the job when I got back from Share the Sail. At the end of the email I added another quote. This one was the higher price that I would do the delivery for if he needed it done immediately … in the windiest time of year up through the roughest part of the Caribbean. I figured that if the boat was ready to go we could knock the trip out in a couple of weeks. He assured me it was and opted for the rush job.
I needed crew. This was going to be a brutal upwind slog into 20 foot seas. It was shaping up to be a tough sell. Mike Z was the first to take the bait. He had a pro fisherperson friend that wanted to come along too. I received the signed contract and the wired $ and booked the last minute flights.
I met Mike and Stacia coming off their plane in Panama City. Cute young Stacia was a sailboater at heart, but for a day job, she crewed on a working Alaskan fishing boat. We rushed through customs and caught a cab to the little domestic airport by the canal. We missed the flight by a few minutes.
Plan B: I had made “reservations” at a hostel in town in case we didn’t make our connection. Hilberto dropped us in the middle of a slum, a fact that Mike Z didn't let go unremarked upon. Some mental instable met us at the rusted security door and walked us up the dark stairwell. He stopped on the second floor and started picking the locks on a large steel door. Just then a Dutch backpacker hopped past us headed up the stairs. We wished our little friend luck and followed Hansel.
It was paradise. The hostel was a pleasant happy place with smiley younger euro types who were all about making cheery conversation and generally not doing anything important. It was my kind of place. We had our own room with a fridge. We brought back a bunch of coldies from our exploration of town. I don’t often find a group that is more financially challenged than I but most of these people qualified. I shared some coldies with some appreciative fellow world travelers (good luck in your sailing career Willow).
To get to Bocas we had to get cross town to the smaller airport to take the tiny hopper flight. Once on the island we took a cab to the wharf where a water taxi took us around to the marina via the surf break where we had to first stop and drop a surfer into the lineup. Chuck, who always reminds me of a big, bearded, gravel-voiced Viking, met us at the dock.
Chuck showed us to our new home. Our home was a mess. Mold was everywhere. The fridge had been turned off with food in it and there was a foot of brown liquid in the bottom. There was old smelly bedding and dirty clothing around from some unlucky boatsteader. And then there was a smell, that stood out from the others, which we could not find the source of … at first. It turned out that the freezer, hidden under the settee, had also been turned off a couple months prior. It was half full of what used to be meat.
The deck was a mess but what concerned me was all of the lines and halyards that had been sitting in the tropical sun for what had to have been a couple of years. The headsail was rolled up but the cover and corners still looked good. I hoisted the mainsail. This was the first point when I felt like we might have a problem. The sail was older and borderline brittle. When motorsailing to windward, the mainsail is everything. Motoring with the wind just off the bow, the mainsail keeps the boat moving forward as she plows through swells.
We worked into the evening knocking off just in time to get a late meal from the little marina restaurant. Charky used to run our ad department at the main office in CA. Lured by Chuck and Ann, she headed south and took on the ‘challenges’ of running a bar/restaurant in paradise. Char welcomed us into her place with open arms. It was great to see everyone and get caught up.
I slept great, as I do on boats, but I guess I was the only one. The next morning, around the breakfast table at Charky’s, the crew described the sounds in the night. Seems we would have some friends along for the cruise - cockroaches and a possibly a mouse.
Most skippers that I know would be booking flights home at this point but I wouldn’t be deterred so easily. I emailed the owner my first impressions. I gave him a brief breakdown on the condition of the boat. Also, I wanted him to understand that when the mainsail failed our voyage would quickly as we pulled into the next port. If time allowed, without a main, one could tack around the Caribbean Sea for a month or so and eventually get into Venezuela. But time was an issue for us.
Good news, Chuck tracked down the previous skipper. Richard was a fan of Lats and Atts. He was glad to come down and show us the boat. He was the one that brought the boat down from Annapolis. He made the wonderful carib run through many palm lined islands coasting through clear blue seas arriving in the awesome cruising grounds of Bocas. After years of neglecting the boat, when the boss called and wanted her brought back upwind, Richard jumped ship. He had found a lady in Bocas and decided to move into town where they will live happily ever after on their US pensions.
After lunch I slipped below with a big trashcan, gloves, and a scarf to cover my mouth and nose. I couldn’t possibly ask my crew to clean out the freezer. I had had a couple beers at lunch in preparation. Mike Z implored me to have just one more coldy before facing the demon freezer. I acquiesced. I’ve seen dead bodies but the site of the mini ecosystem combined with the powerful stench was certainly a more memorable experience. Taming a rough sea in an ill prepared boat seamed trivial in comparison.
Day 3: I got the owner on the phone and he gave us the thumbs up to continue and to try and make it as far as we could. And so we fueled, checked out, provisioned and still made it back to the restaurant for Thursday night Tuna steaks. First thing in the morning Stacia and I hopped in the water and cleaned the bottom of the boat while Mike Z finished the prep topside. That afternoon we motored out the pass and finally, out to sea.
I’ll have to submit part dos next month. There were too many good lessons on this one to hack it up to make it fit. Hasta luego.
www.captainwoody.com
I emailed the owner and got some trip specifics and returned him a quote. I explained that I had plenty of time to do the job when I got back from Share the Sail. At the end of the email I added another quote. This one was the higher price that I would do the delivery for if he needed it done immediately … in the windiest time of year up through the roughest part of the Caribbean. I figured that if the boat was ready to go we could knock the trip out in a couple of weeks. He assured me it was and opted for the rush job.
I needed crew. This was going to be a brutal upwind slog into 20 foot seas. It was shaping up to be a tough sell. Mike Z was the first to take the bait. He had a pro fisherperson friend that wanted to come along too. I received the signed contract and the wired $ and booked the last minute flights.
I met Mike and Stacia coming off their plane in Panama City. Cute young Stacia was a sailboater at heart, but for a day job, she crewed on a working Alaskan fishing boat. We rushed through customs and caught a cab to the little domestic airport by the canal. We missed the flight by a few minutes.
Plan B: I had made “reservations” at a hostel in town in case we didn’t make our connection. Hilberto dropped us in the middle of a slum, a fact that Mike Z didn't let go unremarked upon. Some mental instable met us at the rusted security door and walked us up the dark stairwell. He stopped on the second floor and started picking the locks on a large steel door. Just then a Dutch backpacker hopped past us headed up the stairs. We wished our little friend luck and followed Hansel.
It was paradise. The hostel was a pleasant happy place with smiley younger euro types who were all about making cheery conversation and generally not doing anything important. It was my kind of place. We had our own room with a fridge. We brought back a bunch of coldies from our exploration of town. I don’t often find a group that is more financially challenged than I but most of these people qualified. I shared some coldies with some appreciative fellow world travelers (good luck in your sailing career Willow).
To get to Bocas we had to get cross town to the smaller airport to take the tiny hopper flight. Once on the island we took a cab to the wharf where a water taxi took us around to the marina via the surf break where we had to first stop and drop a surfer into the lineup. Chuck, who always reminds me of a big, bearded, gravel-voiced Viking, met us at the dock.
Chuck showed us to our new home. Our home was a mess. Mold was everywhere. The fridge had been turned off with food in it and there was a foot of brown liquid in the bottom. There was old smelly bedding and dirty clothing around from some unlucky boatsteader. And then there was a smell, that stood out from the others, which we could not find the source of … at first. It turned out that the freezer, hidden under the settee, had also been turned off a couple months prior. It was half full of what used to be meat.
The deck was a mess but what concerned me was all of the lines and halyards that had been sitting in the tropical sun for what had to have been a couple of years. The headsail was rolled up but the cover and corners still looked good. I hoisted the mainsail. This was the first point when I felt like we might have a problem. The sail was older and borderline brittle. When motorsailing to windward, the mainsail is everything. Motoring with the wind just off the bow, the mainsail keeps the boat moving forward as she plows through swells.
We worked into the evening knocking off just in time to get a late meal from the little marina restaurant. Charky used to run our ad department at the main office in CA. Lured by Chuck and Ann, she headed south and took on the ‘challenges’ of running a bar/restaurant in paradise. Char welcomed us into her place with open arms. It was great to see everyone and get caught up.
I slept great, as I do on boats, but I guess I was the only one. The next morning, around the breakfast table at Charky’s, the crew described the sounds in the night. Seems we would have some friends along for the cruise - cockroaches and a possibly a mouse.
Most skippers that I know would be booking flights home at this point but I wouldn’t be deterred so easily. I emailed the owner my first impressions. I gave him a brief breakdown on the condition of the boat. Also, I wanted him to understand that when the mainsail failed our voyage would quickly as we pulled into the next port. If time allowed, without a main, one could tack around the Caribbean Sea for a month or so and eventually get into Venezuela. But time was an issue for us.
Good news, Chuck tracked down the previous skipper. Richard was a fan of Lats and Atts. He was glad to come down and show us the boat. He was the one that brought the boat down from Annapolis. He made the wonderful carib run through many palm lined islands coasting through clear blue seas arriving in the awesome cruising grounds of Bocas. After years of neglecting the boat, when the boss called and wanted her brought back upwind, Richard jumped ship. He had found a lady in Bocas and decided to move into town where they will live happily ever after on their US pensions.
After lunch I slipped below with a big trashcan, gloves, and a scarf to cover my mouth and nose. I couldn’t possibly ask my crew to clean out the freezer. I had had a couple beers at lunch in preparation. Mike Z implored me to have just one more coldy before facing the demon freezer. I acquiesced. I’ve seen dead bodies but the site of the mini ecosystem combined with the powerful stench was certainly a more memorable experience. Taming a rough sea in an ill prepared boat seamed trivial in comparison.
Day 3: I got the owner on the phone and he gave us the thumbs up to continue and to try and make it as far as we could. And so we fueled, checked out, provisioned and still made it back to the restaurant for Thursday night Tuna steaks. First thing in the morning Stacia and I hopped in the water and cleaned the bottom of the boat while Mike Z finished the prep topside. That afternoon we motored out the pass and finally, out to sea.
I’ll have to submit part dos next month. There were too many good lessons on this one to hack it up to make it fit. Hasta luego.
www.captainwoody.com