Land Cruise - Thailand, Cambodia, Vietnam (125)

 Last month Dena and I swam the beaches of a tropical Pangkor Island and visited the Sultan of Selangor before heading north to Thailand to run the Lats & Atts Share the Sail (that story by Bandit in issue #123). But our SE Asia adventuring was not over. Dena had always wanted to see the legendary ruins of Angkor Wat and we intended to have a quick look at Vietnam.

First things first, there was a Lats & Atts Harbor Hangout to check out in Chalong Bay, Thailand. David and his wife run the Harbor Hangout - Coconut Twins. For those not arriving by boat, they also run an Inn. After 7 days on a 44' boat with 7 people, Dena and I were ready to stretch out a little. Soon as the door to our room closed, it was clothes off and into the giant shower.

Later we headed into the hills on the Inn scooter to check out the giant Buddha. To get there, take the dirt road past the monkey show and the grazing elephants. That night we headed down to the anchorage with David to meet up with our own Mike and Robin from Lats & Atts for a wonderful bay front dinner. On the way back to the Inn we drove by David's other bar which was full of beautiful local working girls. I suggested we stop off for a coldy. I got the raised brow from Dena.

It was time to make our way to Cambodia. To get there we had to go through Bangkok. At the time there were raging, sometimes violent protests going on in the city. A chance to see history being made, wouldn't miss it. We took a long bus ride that dumped us a couple blocks from the train to Bangkok. I'm fond of buses but I love the train. This one was ancient. We spent the extra couple dollars and got a sleeper. It seemed like a bargain but then it wasn't Amtrak. There we were cocooned in our little bunk, separated from 40 other people in the car by a drape, the wheels screeching and scraping as we hobbled along. It was cozy.

We arrived in Bangkok in the morning. Being in a city, we could have gotten a regular cab for our ride across town but we opted for an open air tuk tuk. It's basically a moped connected to a rickshaw. We figured it would be a better way to experience our first mass protest. Alas, there was a break in the action and so we had to settle for empty, smoky streets. Locals had told us that we were safe because we could not possibly be mistaken for either protestors or cops.

We found our next bus and headed for the border. As we ventured away from the city, the signs stopped having English on them which left us with only the goofy Thai script. Our last tuk-tuk driver dropped us at a Visa scam place near the border to Cambodia – real visas, triple the cost. We walked out. We decided to try to get our visas directly from the border guards.

Dena and I have traveled a lot, separately and together. It sometimes seems like a competition for who travels more efficiently. She trumped me this day when she whipped out a spare passport photo for her visa saying, “Where's yours?” accompanied by her clever laugh. Luckily for me, the Jedi mind trick (and 6$ to the guard) got me around the photo requirement – cat skinned.

After another long cab ride, with some very nice Kiwi backpackers, we arrived at legendary Anchor Wat. This was Dena's dream destination more than mine but I did my best, “I'm fascinated by the same architecture repeated for three days” impersonation. The temples really were beautiful and I did like the little town we stayed in, Siem Reap.

We bussed to the capital Phnom Penh. Sometimes we were on dirt roads … on the main route to the capital! But that's the kind of traveling I like - to see a place before it gets soiled by imports, chain stores and TV. This place was real. It was miles and miles of farms, stick fences, horned cows (buffalo), and moats (mini reservoirs), in front of stilted huts and smiling faces. It was self sufficient people, making their own food and living the way God (Nature) intended.

And then there were the bugs. They eat them as snacks. I prefer natural, local, whole foods but I draw the line just before bugs. And they were at every roadside stand. Nice wicker bins full of marinated and cooked: cockroaches, grasshoppers and spiders. The guy sitting in front of us got off and bought a bag, sat back down and mowed through the little critters like they were popcorn. It was pretty awesome.

And hyper-efficient scooters everywhere. Traffic is not an issue when everyone rides a scooter. Like in Thailand, they had roadside stands that sold gas out of re-used plastic or glass bottles. It was convenient, “I'll have the coconut icecream and a liter from the Johnny Walker Red”. Most of the scooters were gas but some were electric, and they had charging stations for them. These people understood the importance of evolving in a healthier direction.

We visited the killing fields. The communist Khmer Rouge swept through the country in the 70's, rounding up and slaughtering thousands of the thinking people: professors, artists and scientists. In the middle of the camp was a big glass tower full of skulls. This place did move me.

We hung out at the coastal town of Sihanoukville and took a longtail to the islands to snorkel. We took our scooter up muddy dirt trails to find we had the entire Kbal Chhay falls park to ourselves for the day. It was beautiful. Most of the rooms we rented in SE Asia were nice, beachfront places. Most were under $20. Mopeds were $5 a day. A trend that I hope catches on at home was the people wearing pajamas in the middle of the day. They match, they're comfortable, why not?

The nice young lady beach vendors pulled the hair off of Dena's legs with strings for a couple bucks. That looked like torture so I settled for a foot massage. Down the beach we found us a beach bar. Dena enjoyed her cocktail while the resident monkey swooped down and wrestled me for my hat. Dena tried to play with the monkey too but only got her hair pulled … again. We settled on a nice bungalow bar on the rocky point for some hi end sunset drinks - $2 a piece.

The next morning we visited the Vietnamese embassy for visas. Were we even allowed into Vietnam? It turns out yes. It was the easiest visa I've ever gotten. It was there that I learned that Vietnam is still communist, after all we went through. So much for the Domino Theory, WMD's or whatever ploy the profiteers trick us with next. “Fool me once … er, uh, don't fool me again”.

The border was one of those classic dusty outpost borders with the rusted fence that the decrepit guard had to lift by hand. I felt like I was on the Universal Studios tour. It was a long travel day but we made it out to the Vietnamese island Dao Phu Quoc. We found another $20 beach bungalow and another $5 scooter.

I misjudged the size of the island. The map we had didn't have a legend, it was more like a place mat. They were building a road around the island. We decided to see how far we could get. If you are willing to drive over super slippery red clay mud and traverse narrow foot bridges over rivers, then you could take a scooter all the way around. Miraculously we never dropped the scoot in the mud but one time we did a 180 degree slide. Dena didn't flinch, which is why we didn't fall. I'm not sure exactly, where her trust in me comes from. The foot bridges were rickity bamboo structures. Again we were back on the studio lot, this time on the Swiss Family Robinson set. We finished the day with a slow easy hammock.

And finally we made it to Saigon. Officially, it is now called Ho Chi Min City but the locals still call it Saigon. It's a fun city. Dena picked the hotel and did the haggling. She got the poor guy down to a low price and when he couldn't find the keys to our room, he upgraded us to the suite for free. She got lucky. We hit the open air shops for some family gifts and ate at a different restaurant for every meal, trying to get our final fill of SE Asia and her great food.

Malaysia Photos

Leo40 - Puerto Vallarta to San Diego (124)

You all may reacall I was moving a 40' Leopard sailing cat from Panama to Washington. We pick up the adventure as we depart PuertoVallarta, headed across the beautiful Sea of Cortes for Cabo. Onboard is our core crew, owners Paul and Sheila and myself.

We fueled up and got out early in the morning. It's about 300nm from PV to Cabo, across the entrance to the Sea of Cortez. I've crossed with 15 footers rolling out of the sea but this time it was nice and calm. Early 0n in the 'crossing' we did a little sailing, odd for a north bound trip. We even spotted some turtles, south of the prison islands, the Tres Marias.

Our destination was San Jose del Cabo. It's a little east and north of Cabo. It's more quiet, less expensive and closer to the airport. We got parked and dinghied over to the main dock. While the kids got us checked in and rented us a car, I got a shower. They had a new bar there next to the office. It was called the Container Bar and, you guessed it, it was cut out of a big shipping container. They had done it up real nice with a grill and everything. I got a message from Robin at the Lats office that our friends on the fishing boat Scrambler were in SJC. I looked around and spotted one of the Scrambler shirts. I walked over and said hi to Frank. Frank and the boys had been killin' it down there, pulling in Tuna after Tuna in the over 200 pound category. He pulled out his cracked Iphone and showed me some great pictures.

You can't sail around southern Baja without a visit or two to Cabo San Lucas. We hopped in the car and made the trek to town. Cabo has changed a lot over the years. It went from a sleepy fishing village to a brothel for 'El Norte' sport fishermen, to it's recent incarnation, a nicer resort/timeshare city. The best thing about a spot like Cabo is that you can get boat parts. And we were desparate for some pieces to keep the Volvos running. On the way back to sleepy SJ we stopped at the Costco for some consumption abuse, Us style.

We prepped the boat for what would likely be the harshest leg of it's long adventure up to Washington.
It is over 700nm from Cabo to San Diego. Ideally we only make one stop on that trip at Turtle Bay, a little more than half way up. That first leg to Turtle is over 400 nm so you want to get as much fuel in the boat as possible and take it at the last possible fuel dock. That dock was back in Cabo. We had a nice sail down to Cabo. The intense sea traffic started about a mile out. Cabo is Sportfish central. Add all that to the tourist boats and jet skis and a few cruisers and you've got some traffic.

We ducked and dodged and slid into the fuel dock sideways, just aft of a big Perini Navi. We had come a long way together and docking had become second nature. When we were close to a port the kids would whip on lines and fenders. We would discuss the plan. I would get one of the swimsteps close and Paul would step off. Sheila would hand him the spring line that he would make fast to the dock. He would signal me and I would pivot in the ends of the boat so they could secure them. Well, almost that smooth. With two fuel tanks and 16 five-gallon jugs all full we headed out to start our slow, rough slog north.

But it didn't start out rough. We left busy Cabo with a few sunset cruise boats to port and nice vacation villas on the cliffs to starboard. A couple miles on we left them all behind. The water turned glass smooth and the sun set quietly over the orange horizon. This was a clean start. I told the kids to not get too excited.

I was awoken on my off watch, in the dead of night, by the words, "We’re really close to this boat”. Those are words that should never be spoken with the rules we had in place. We were well beyond the point where I needed to be consulted on every boat seen. We had advanced to the stage where I was to be consulted when there was any doubt. I arrived on deck as we passed close astern to a mid sized fishing boat. I went back to bed figuring my words would be more measured after breakfast.

Magdelena Bay might be your first stop if you want to see a beautiful spot or haven't rationed your fuel well. We had had a fast perfect leg to that point over oddly smooth water, very lucky. To celebrate our crossing the entrance to Mag Bay a whale breeched off to starboard, all the way out to it's tail. Knowing that the smooth conditions couldn't last, we topped up the tanks with a few fuel jugs while we could.

That version of the Leopard 40' had two 40 horse diesels. It was way overpowered. We only ran with two motors when parking. At sea, even against current we ran with one motor. In flat seas the boat would easily reach hull speed with one motor. When the chop would kick up and the boat would slow down we would still be going as fast as we wanted to. With all the catamaran banging I didn't want to break anything by pushing her harder.

As it does, the wind kicked up to over 20 kts. A little swell was generated by the winds and the bangfest began. With the added pressure of the wind and chop, the starboard motor started to heat up. We switched over to the port motor and I found the impellor was down to two and a half fins. Impellors to fit Volvo motors were one of the things that we were not able to find in all of Latin America.

Our last day before making it to Turtle was beautiful. It had calmed some and we had a clear view of the best of baja, drifting by to starboard. We pulled into Turtle Bay in the evening and we took a free mooring off of Anabell's, just to port as you come in. They are so nice there. Rueben and his son-in-law fueled us up first thing in the morning with filtered fuel from their own bright green, mini fuel barge. Then they offered to give us a lift into town.

And sometimes you just get lucky. It was the town of Turtle Bay's 60th aniversary. Turtle is a great place but it is a dusty little Mexican town, far removed from ... anywhere. But that doesn't slow down the locals. They are very proud and put on the best aniversary celebration that I have ever seen. There were costumes and floats, booths and games, speakers and mariachis. There was a new king and queen crowned every year, and this being a new decade, all the old kings and queens had to dress up and attend. It was all on and it was a spectacular event.

We departed that evening, as the afternoon breeze started to lay down. There were whales everywhere. We went inside the island of Cedros and popped out the top ... to smooth water. I had never seen it smooth there. I celebrated quietly inside myself, careful to not let the sea know that something was amiss.

But the wind did come on that next day and blew hard. I saw a chance to get a break from the mean chop by shooting up inside the Sacramento reefs - sinkers of ships and cruising boats alike. But we ran into one of the shortcomings of cats. They won't go into the big wind/bad chop combo, no matter what you do. I used to stay out and bang it out all night but, thankfully, I've outgrown that. I turned tail and we ran 12 miles back to San Carlos. An hour and a half later we were anchor down in a beautiful, calm spot.

We were very close to the states now but the weather turned worse and kept us in port. We spent the next day gleefully parked in flat water as 30kt gusts whistled through the rig. To kill time I pulled apart the starboard heat exchanger and found a couple impellor pieces clogging key channels. Yep, if you are missing an impellor fin, make sure you find it. For fun, Sheila made brownies and we enjoyed movies and coldies all afternoon.

That night I walked out onto the bow. The town generator had shut down and all the fishing shacks were dark. I looked back over my shoulder to see our array of cabin lights and big screen TV aglow. I remembered back to my trip up this coast on my little Low Key. I knew I'd be sitting under the warm glow of my oil lamp, reading some adventure book. Was one experience better than the other? Maybe.

Our weather reports indicated that the weather was going to break soon. We picked a time that would put us at the reefs with some light. At 0400 we tried to leave. The bow roller on these cats is not on the bow, it's back toward the middle of the boat. To ease tention on the chain you have to motor into strong wind. Not being lead from the front, the boat tended to pivot allowing the chain to come up and grind on the hulls. It was not a clever design. It took us about an hour but we got the chain up, and with the morning land breeze, we sailed out. The breeze whisked us quickly up through the reef. It was eirie sailing with land to starboard and breaking waves to port.

And I spent more time in the engine rooms, nursing the motors to just get them to San Diego. About mid day we started to smell rotten eggs. It didn't make sense, Sheila kept the boat immaculate. I've had that smell on boats when I haven't pumped the head in a long time (the life in the seawater dies eventually). I learned another very important time that that smell comes up. One of our big house batteries was failing and heating up. The worst thing you can have on a fiberglass boat is a fire. They say that if you don't get a fiberglass boat fire put out early you won't be able to, it burns too hot. I re-wired the batteries taking the offending one out of the loop.

We cruised into Ensenada putting the worst of the Baja behind us. We fueled up and took a slip at my favorite marina, just north of town, the Coral (say: corral). It felt good to have made it so far on less than perfect motors. We headed right up to the salon to get our showers and then headed into town. Unusual for Mexico, you can do a whole check out in one building! Then it was lunch and a coldy at my favorite roasted chicken place where a never ending train of mariachi groups plyed for our business.

After departing the 22nd chandlery that didn't have the impellors we needed we headed back at the boat. At 2200 we got underway to have a morning arrival in San Diego.

After two months of Latin American adventuring, we cruised into the busy port of San Diego and tied up to the Customs dock.

Pix - Panama Canal to Costa Rica Playas

Some traffic on the Carib side of the canal.  Yacht Transport to Europe?



Golfito, Costa Rica.  Sounds of monkeys and the smell of the jungle.



Chillin' with my bro's at Land and Sea



Land and Sea, a friend to Cruisers.  Moorings, shower, movies, cold beers, books, overwater deck, bbq, shop and on, for cheap.



On my walk outside of town I discovered what I call the Che' Train.



Fueling at Banana Bay, high end fishing marina.



Wondering where all those fuel jugs went?  This is the starboard side bow locker.  And room for more.



This is the anchorage off of wonderful Playas del Coco - one of my favorite stops in Costa Rica.  This day was bumpy.  It's not usually that bad.  We took a van to Coco from 4 star Marina Papagayo.  It was plush.  This is where Low Key and I anchored for a week in '05 to pull the motor to remove the prop shaft and have it serviced.  I took it to Liberia, 40 miles away.  That's also where Bob Bitchin spent the evening in jail during our cruise in '94 - good times.


 
Calmly parked in beautiful Marina Papagayo.



The 40' Leopard under sail off Costa Rica.  Goes nice in a light beam breeze.

Pix - Acapulco to Barra Navidad

Not a great shot, it's hard to keep still even on a cat.  This is vaguely what it looks like pulling into Acapulco.  It's said to look like a 'bowl of diamonds'.  It's a little spectacular.



The port captain always appreciates a visit when you arrive on a boat.  This guy was hilarious.  He wasn't fast but he was very nice.



Though they said they were full at first, the Acapulco Yacht Club finally gave us a slip.  The grounds are wonderful with the big fountained pool and nice bar and lounge.  There is a boat yard on the premises.  Parts are crazy expensive.



Cruising out of the marina, on our way to Barra finally.  Not really that stressful, just hamming it up.



We dragged Dena out of the galley, her happy place, every now and then to do a watch.




That's Steve checking out some 'traffic'.




Pablo enjoying another perfect day on his sailing cat.

Leo40 - Acapulco to Puerto Vallarta (123)

We are cruising a Leopard 40 catamaranfrom Panama to Washington. I say cruising because we are taking it slow, stopping into all the best bays and ports. With me are the owners - aka 'the kids', and Dena – my trusty first mate. As I left the story, we had just departed the wonderful port of Huatulco, my favorite stop in southern Mexico.

From Panama to Cabo you never seem to get much wind and when you do it's on the nose. But every now and then … you get a break. We motored out on that sunny afternoon and picked up a friendly breeze. One of the advantages to cats is that they sail well in light beam winds. To add to our mellow afternoon we had whales, bunches of them. Though wonderful for crew entertainment, it was challenging at times to avoid the many pods and occasional chase panga. It was good to see so many whales.

In the evening, the light wind would die off or swing around to land and the sweet smell of burning sugar cane would carry out to us. We arrived at Acapulco, well before sunrise. I don't usually stop in Acapulco but we had another guest flying in, the owner's son Stephen. A night time arrival into Acapulco is something to behold. Pat Rains said it best when she described the high round bay at night as, “A bowl of diamonds”. My crew gathered on deck to enjoy our slow cruise into the harbor.

Looking for a slip to make connecting with Stephen easier, we ended up at the Acapulco Yacht Club. With an easy fuel dock, tidy slips, fountained swimming pool and comfortable bar/restaurant; they have great facilities for the visiting cruiser.

You wouldn't appreciate the fun easy times without the occasional breakdown. We were still having problems with the twin Volvo diesels. This time, the port Saildrive was slipping, which was funny because it was the starboard one that was leaking. We had a couple “mechanics” from the club come out and do some Mexican repairs. In Mex they don't always replace hard to find parts, they remanufacture. These guys took out the shifter and welded on more mass. It didn't help much and they put it back together without a gasket, creating a new leak. I would later seal it up with silicone gasket maker.

It was time to head into town to visit the Capatania del puerto, code named 'Lightning'. What he lacked in speed he made up for in thoroughness and genuine amiability. Dena and I checked out the Fuerto San Diego, and just for kicks, walked the coastal route through the ghetto fishing village. With the work done for the day we met up with the kids at the bar and had some apps and coldies – wonderful. Poolside, I finished up my next column and sent it out.

Stephen arrived the next day and we all headed over the hill for a great dinner on the beach. The next morning was beautiful as we headed out the pass and into a calm sea. By evening we had 15kts on the nose which also brought significant banging from the hull. We put a single reefed main up and cracked off the wind a bit. Late that night the bilge light came on and stayed on. We had some water ingress into the starboard bilge – the source a mystery. Also, the bilge pump had failed. I decided to change it out then, it's one of those things that shouldn't wait 'til morning.

By morning the wind had come around and we were doing a beautiful 7 kts in 12kts of wind. And soon we were approaching my favorite port in all of Mex, Barra Navidad. Barra has it all. You can anchor for free in the 'lake' or take a slip at the immaculate Spanish style hotel/marina Bahia Grande. Either way you can enjoy the wonderful village ashore. The kids chose the marina and we prepared to be lavished.

We were in the pool within minutes. It is actually three pools on different levels, connected by waterslides! There's more; at the bottom there is a swim up bar, water volleyball and lounge areas where they'll bring you drinks. All this in a setting of lush gardens and palm trees. Yes, it's spendy. We parked Low Key here on our way to the S. Pacific and it was 4$ a foot – yikes – and worth it, for a night.

We all headed into town. The hotel has a small dock where panga shuttles whisk you across to the village. On a peninsula, the village has a restaurant lined beach. We found a second floor table and had coldies in hand for the spectacular sunset. All was right in the world. Next we hit the Harbor Hangout, Piper Lover's. It's the place that has a surf board over the entrance with Bob Bitchin and Latitudes & Attitudes written on it. We met some other travellers and enjoyed the live band and generally partied the night away.

Our new young backpacker friends, Canadian Greg and Columbian Diana had a car. In the morning they took Dena and I up the coast to Tenacatita to snorkel the “Best reef in Jalisco”. I know it was true because it said so on the sign. We had a great day of swimming and then siesta at a beach palapa eatery before heading back poolside at the Bahia Grande. We had just 27 hours at the BG and we made the most of it.

It took only a day to get to Puerto Vallarta where we pulled into Marina Vallarta, a home away from home for me. If you need parts or stuff done you can do pretty well there. While backing into a slip I lost reverse on the port side. Ever try to manuever a cat with one motor? Using crew members as fenders we drifted in without a scratch … to the boat.

After showers and then a coldy at the top of the lighthouse we enjoyed a nice dinner on the boardwalk, mariachis, the works. In the morning we got checked into the marina and I visited the port captain. I also stopped by the boatyard to see if they had anyone that claimed to be qualified on Volvos. No luck and the word was that Volvo parts were getting harder to find. That night we had dinner at Victor's. It's not to be missed. Like magic, free shots of their homemade tequila continue to reappear. The only way to slow the carnage is to leave your shot full on the table – a trying test for any sailor. A dinner at Victor's is not complete without a visit from Victor himself – always gracious and always ready to join you … with a shot. And the food's good.

The next day we said goodbye to Dena as she had to get back to her real life. I was walking back to the boat after putting her into a cab and spotted the first race of the America's Cup, live, on TV in a bar. I stumbled in and enjoyed the match with chips, salsa and a coldy or two. Fascinating technology, that winged sail. When can I get one for my cruising boat?

Stephen was the next to leave as he had commitments at home. And then it was the boat's turn. We departed for Cabo with our core crew, just the kids and I.

Next month a little change of pace as we head half way around the world to recount our recent adventures sailing and trekking around SE Asia. 

 -Quality, Balance and a Clean Wake-

Pix - Puerto Madero, Tehuanepec and Huatulco

Lovely Puerto Madero, the southernmost port of Mexico.  Though the harbor was thick with effluent, the people were very nice.  Those are vultures guarding my dinghy (off camera).



You find cozy palapa restaurants all over Mex.  In this little weekend spot all the palapas had swimming pools.  I hope it catches on.



The Tehuanepec, arguably the most dangerous stretch of water south of Cape Flattery.  We crossed unscathed and even enjoyed a light air sunset en route.



Marina Chahue in Huatulco - clean, safe, inexpensive.  Huatulco is my favorite southern port in Mex.  Their tag line is "Where the wood is adored".  It's a long story.  The area has it all from the nice marina, to beachfront dining to the greatest old school town square in nearby La Crucecita - quaint defined.



Who doesn't like an outdoor shower - Chahue.

Leo40 - Puerto Madero to Huatulco (122)

 This is the continuing saga of the great Leopard 40 catamaran delivery – part IV. We are traveling up the Pacific Coast, from Panama to Washington. It's just me and the boat owners – aka 'the kids'. As I left it, we had departed Costa Rica, sailed north off Nicaragua, El Salvador and Guatermellon, er, Guatemala. After four days we pulled into Puerto Madero, the southernmost port of Mexico and the last stop before the sprint across the deadly Bahia Tehuanapec.

We motored in behind the big seawall designed for the monster swells that the Tehuanapec often produces. We drifted deep into the s0uth fork, past legions of hard worked fishing boats and anchored off the fuel dock. I launched the dinghy and ripped over to the Capitania del Puerto, identifiable in all Mex ports as a white building with a blue and green stripe along the top. I pulled the dink onto the tourist beach amongst huge black vultures. They were eyeballing me and my bag of trash. The beach was lined with palapa restaurants, most had a cement pool installed. I bet this place was hopping with locals on the weekends.

The port captain was friendly and helpful. He handed me a sheet of paper that described the check in process, in English. A trip to port control and the airport immigration was necessary. And if you didn't read the paper carefully, and make sure you got the correct number of stamps, you would have to go to the airport twice ;). I cruised back to the boat to pick up the kids for our land adventure.

Most Mex ports are on rivers so they flush to the sea. Not Madero; anything the people, the fishing boats and the fish plant dumped in the harbor, mostly stayed in the harbor. And the sludge it produced was impressive. It was a thick brown waxy grease consistency and it coated everything in the south fork. It made it difficult to land the dinghy at the fuel dock stairs without getting slimed.

But land we did and we caught a city cab to the port office to pay a fee to the gracious people there. Then our cab dropped us on the road outside of town to catch a rural cab to the airport. Again, the airport immigration staff was great, but also asked for a few pesos. We made one more trip to the Port Captain for our check out papers. That's right, we intended to get out of there asap. He walked me out to a building around the corner and sat me down at their computer so I could check the weather. It agreed with the wx we were collecting onboard. We had a window that would allow us to get across the bay before the next T-pecker delivered it's 100kt winds and untenable seas.

When we returned to the fuel dock there were two giant fishing boats parked there. As it got later, it looked like they might be spending the night. We loaded the dink with empty fuel jugs to fill ashore and top up the boat tanks by hand. Though the boat only held 90 gallons in two tanks, we had 16 fuel jugs that fit nicely in the bottom of the huge lockers forward. They gave us about another 70 gallons.

Weather looked good and the boat was ready as she was going to get. It was, as they say at doggy baptisms, “Time to cross the bitch.” We raised and rinsed the sludge covered rode. As the sun set, we motored on out. Straight across, it was 225nm, which made it about a day and a half in good weather. But we were going to take the longer route. I had never hugged the shore of the bay before, it's supposed to be safer. But I had never tried to cross her in a catamaran either.

We got out to deep water and set a course parallel to shore. We made great time all night averaging 6-7 knots. We checked the wx often and it continued to look good. The wind came around onto the nose and I decided to start the cut across. As we got into the middle, the swell built to a size we had yet to see on the cat. She bumped, banged and creaked.

I eventually get the question when owners are aboard and it took these two longer than usual but the question did come, “Is the boat safe in these conditions?” I don't build 'em I just drive 'em but I explained that the boat was ocean rated and that this was bay chop and that we were likely to encounter worse seas banging up Baja. She better be able to handle this. It's not my job to sugar coat it. On a delivery, I make sure my crew understands the worst case scenario before we leave port and I encourage them to head ashore if they feel overly concerned.

Heading into the wind on the cat, we had a reefed main and one motor on. We crack off the wind just enough to fill the main. The main gives that extra push to power through the chop. The wind and swell got bad enough that we had to fall off the wind a little more to keep our speed up. We were no longer heading directly for our next port but I figured we'd make it up later … or change ports. Let up it did as we got past the center of the bay and closed on land.

As I came off watch at 0300 she was still a hoppin' and a bangin'. When I awoke with the sun I felt the motion easing. By the time I came up to bring her into port it we were skimming along a flat calm. And you know the feeling of completing a hard fought, peril strewn leg. For me it was quiet elation. Another plus was that we were pulling into one of my favorite Mex ports – Huatulco.  Icing? Dena was flying in to do some Mexican Riviera sailing with us.

Huatulco: “The place where the wood is adored”. I'm not making that up. A big tree in the shape of a cross washed up on shore. They set it upright and worshiped it for hundreds of years. We rolled into Marina Chahue and got parked. The weather was beautiful, sunny and warm and the boat and crew were safe and happy.

Dena had been there since the day before. I tracked her down at her villa. We spent the day between there and the beach – big shower, nap, palapa lunch, swim, nap and dinner at a place on another beach. We then headed over to a Disco Mango with its boom boom machina music which we enjoyed through a mescal haze. After a great day we caught some cable TV and even some news. Looked like the folks back home were still hating each other. We switched over to a good movie.

The next day we moved Dena onboard and lunched with the kids. We hooked up with a crew delivering a catamaran from France to CA. Ralph and his wife deliver catamarans all over. They had Bobbi onboard for entertainment. We all got together and headed into a gem of a pueblo, La Crucecita, for a big Mex dinner. It was fun to compare notes with people that had the same odd life that I did. Ralph and I also had a similar ethic – get the boat there in better shape than she left. Finally, someone I could recommend for the trips I can't do.

And soon it was time to depart. Next stop, Acapulco.

 -Quality, Balance and a Clean Wake- 

Leo40 - Golfito to Puerto Madero (121)

 When I left you last, I was moving a Leopard 40 catamaran up the Pacific, from the Canal to Canada with her owners – aka ‘the kids’. We had arrived at Golfito, Costa Rica in the black of night, and taken a mooring off of town. I had never been there. I was excited to get ashore and do some exploring.

We awoke to the wild sounds of howling monkeys and strange birds, and the warm scent of a thriving jungle. Across the water were two establishments. The freshly painted yellow one, I suspected, was Banana Bay Marina. I figured the kids would want to check that place out first. The western saloon looking two-story shack next door was where I’d be headed next.

Ex-pat Bruce runs the mini resort and he gave us the run down of on-site facilities and what to expect from town. Though we felt very welcome, Banana Bay seemed more of a high end fishing marina then a cruiser hangout. But we didn't let that stop us. “Cold beers all around.” And boy were they cold. There was free wifi in the bar/restaurant and a shower in the bathroom.

I found ex-pat Tim next door, proprietor of Land & Sea services, a perfect little cruiser haven. Included in the cost of the 8$ a day mooring was use of the dinghy dock, friendly dogs, an honor cooler stocked chocker with the finest CR brews, a big waterfall shower, BBQ's, a mini shop, cable TV, VHS videos, and decks and lounge areas with pillows, books and magazines. I left a Lats & Atts amongst the piles of sailing rags only to find it gone the next day. I left another.

To get the complete picture of our cruise north you should know that there were a few issues with the boat. Five years of charter company ‘maintenance’ had been hard on her twin Volvo diesels. For starters … we had a gear oil leak to starboard, shifter problems to port, and motor oil leaks and alternator mount failures on both sides. We ran with one motor at sea and kicked on the other to park. We would switch motors every six hours which gave me a chance to tighten or replace the belt and change the starboard engine's diapers. We kept a big stock of the white oil sorbent pads onboard. They'll suck oil right out of bilge water. Buy some! Much of my spare time was spent keeping those motors running.

I headed into town. I had exhausted the search for real Volvo parts in Panama City and had moved on to 'aftermarket'. Five minutes into my walk I found the belts, 6$ a piece. I busted the piggy bank and spent $1.20 on bolts and washers for the redesign of the self-destructing alternator mounts. The bitchin over-the-water machine shop, next to Banana, tooled some parts for me for 3$.

Work done, I embarked on a long trek across town to do the paperwork cha cha. I'm a fan of this side of Costa Rica. As always, it's the people who make the place, and here the people include some very friendly and beautiful Ticas. Not much to do in a little town like Golfito but tend your store and wait for the next cruise ship to come in. Still, the little town was buzzing and there was plenty to see. In the row of seaside shops on my left, an ancient blind woman swept a tiny cafe floor, while across the street, rickety shack homes straddled mini jungle creeks. Up ahead a pack of wild dogs chased kids around the park. Every nook held a story.

After a few days in paradise it was time to get back to sea. We fueled up, grabbed one last Imperial for the road and pointed her toward the entrance. The kids took the wheel while I put away fenders and lines. I looked back as we passed the last nav buoys to see the kids smiling and laughing. Always good to see the crew in high spirits.

We headed south down the long bay with the wind on the nose. We made the 90 degree turn to the west at the entrance and found … the wind on the nose. Cracked off the wind with the main up and one motor we were reduced to about 3kts VMG toward the next waypoint. We could get more speed with both motors but you would think the boat was going to break up, the way she banged. Most of the trip from Panama to Cabo, there is no wind or it's on the nose. It's tough to get quality sailing in while heading northbound.

On monohulls you put up some mainsail in all but flat conditions to keep the rolling to a minimum. On a cat you use it to help drive the boat and to keep the jerky motion to a minimum. And finally we had some wind we could use. With the wind just forward of the beam the cat sailed well. In 12kts apparent we could do 6+. It took two days to get to my favorite CR town – Playas del Coco. This time we motored right by the roadstead anchorage and rolled into the new Marina Papagayo. Can you say super-plush?

In a chilly second-floor corner office we filled out reams of paperwork and were relieved of large amounts of (the boss's) $ to be allowed to stay there. We were assigned our own cute Tika concierge who got us seats on the next van into town. I prefer hot on the outside and cold on the inside so we went down and encouraged the barkeep to open early. We sucked down some coldies in the beautiful open air bar over looking the new, mostly empty, marina.

The van arrived and I grabbed a couple roadies for the long trip into town. I know aircon is popular but I prefer a window open for pictures, the smell of land and the warm natural breeze. And then there's the need to re-acclimate. When cruising, you don't get to spend much time seeing inland parts. We saw ranches and farms and Costa Rican caballeros. The other couple on the van were the Carrs. They arrived in a big new Saleen trawler and were headed to el Carib. John was a fan of Lats & Atts. That is to say he'd heard of the magazine and somehow recognized me (from the cartoon?)

We pulled up to town and all agreed that a beverage was in order. The driver dropped us at Coconuts, a great outdoor bar, stuck in the trees and overlooking the calle primero which was packed with friendly locals and exotic backpackers sorting through Coco's custom crafts. I took a break and headed over to pick out a pareu for my girl and some stogies for the boys back home.

You had to tear us away but the next morning we headed back out to sea. It was a four day motor/sail to Puerto Madero, the southern most port in Mexico and the staging ground for crossing the legendary Tehuanapec – sinker of ships. If you are unlucky enough have a T-pecker kick up, then its hold on for dear life because it can blow 100 knots for days. Our death defying T-pec crossing next month.

I have an announcement! Sheridan House has agreed to publish my first book – Circumnavigating Low Key. It will be out toward the end of the year. I’ll keep you posted. Check them out for other great nautical titles too!

-Quality, Balance and a Clean Wake-

Leo40 - Panama Canal to Golfito (120)

When I left you last month I was moving a Leopard 40 catamaran through the Panama canal and up to CA with owners Paul and Sheila (aka the kids), a crew friend of theirs and my crewmate Dena. We spent an incredible glass calm night up in Lake Gatun on the north (Carib) side of the canal. After wine and dinner under the stars we drifted off to sleep.

My watch alarm went off at 0600. Our canal advisor, Roy, hopped aboard at 0615 and I fired up the motors. The sun came up over the jungle as we powered on down the wide, well marked channel. The canal reminds me of cruising the Pacific NW, motoring from green island to green island. Of course Panama is hot and covered in Kudzu instead of Pine trees.

But cruising’s not always calypso and coldies. The extra crewman was up most of the night with severe stomach cramps, which were getting worse. I feared appendicitis and asked the advisor what our options were. He suggested we drop him at the little town of Pedro Miguel. Stop in the canal? Kewl! Paramedics were there and took him off the boat. He made it to the hospital and they started treatment for a stomach infection.

I was down to 3 able crew and we needed 4 for the canal descent. The advisor was very cool to let us continue and he suggested we lock down against the wall. We had read all the cruiser hype about never locking against the wall. Though it’s not a good idea with the locking up turbulence of a filling chamber, it would have been fine locking down.

The kids opted for center tie again and the advisor offered to take the helm so I could catch the fourth line. He seemed a little too excited. Some small print from the canal contract flashed through my head, the part that talked about advisors not being responsible for anything. I kept an eye on him and would take over after cleating my line. The cat was all over the place, without a deep keel and with two motors in tight quarters and turbulent water ... good fun driving. During one of Roy’s short stints at the helm the cat began to veer off toward the hard portside wall. I gave him a calm, “Con cuidado”. The third time I called over to him was more of a yell. He pulled it together and I didn’t have to step in. In his defense, he was answering his cell phone.

Down and out the Pacific side, we dropped Roy onto a speeding tug. After fueling at the Balboa Yacht Club pier we made our way through their mooring field with 2 knots of current sweeping us along the tight gap between boats. Our assigned mooring was right at the end. I spun us around into the current to sneak up to it. Dirt kicked up behind the boat. How is that possible, we drew 3’9”? The kids hooked us up to the ball.

To get a “launcha” to bring you to the long pier you call “Muelle, muelle, muelle (say mway-yay)”. I guess they don’t trust cruiser dinghies in that thick current. In we went to the new Balboa Yacht Club. The kids caught a cab to the hospital to check on their amigo which left Dena and I to toast survival of another transit while sampling BYC coldies.

At 0245 I awoke to my watch alarm. I walked out to the stern where I had the boat pole waiting. It was low low tide and I wanted to know just how much water we had, if any. We had about a foot under the keels. As I drifted back to sleep I hoped the humongous ships, chugging by just 100 yards away, did so slowly.

We were over a week on the BYC mooring. The kids made a couple more trips to the hospital, we searched futilely for Volvo parts and I worked on the (only 4-year old) diesels.
Helpful locals are a key part of cruising. BYC dockmaster Dave keeps a list of local services in his office, stacked above the pier. Ricardo works in the BYC ‘boatyard’. He was also what I call an expediter - a local good guy who knows everyone and everything in the area, speaks a little English and likes helping the yachties. He helped us find almost everything and even got on the phone to tell off the Volvo Panama people when they declined to help us. In contrast there are the not so helpful. Our canal agent tried to collect double the ambulance fees. In the future I’ll use my guy, Enrique Plummer.

Dena’s airline passes had her flying out of Costa Rica. The diesels conspired to keep us from getting her there in time. She got the next best thing, a 16 hour jungle bus ride - kewl. It was our last evening in Balboa. Dena and I went for an evening stroll along the waterfront. It was Martyr’s Day in Panama – a day of mourning for the high school protesters shot by their American occupiers in ‘64. The families walking and playing on the path seemed happy to have the evening together. Electric bikes and trikes shared the path with people and normal bicycles. How come I don’t see those at home? Look, an ice cream cart!

And finally things were running well enough to leave. I’m good for a day or two in a place and then I start wondering what other stuff we’re missing and I just want to get back out there ... with or without the parts we need. It was just the three of us now, the owners and me. I offered to depart at night but the kids thought the morning visibility would be a plus. We had a beautiful tail wind to push us south across the Gulf of Panama.

As timing would have it, it was a pitch black night when we arrived at the bottom of the bay in the thickest part of the traffic. I had set up a watch schedule - 3 hours on, 6 off. The kids had instructions to get me up if they saw a ship. I was summoned and I arrived on deck with ship lights all around us. At the helm were my two crew staring into a blindingly bright radar screen. It was the first time we would have the discussion about not relying on the video game. I eased them away, gave them a minute to regain sight and then showed them how we judge distance and direction visually. I would sleep better knowing they were developing these skills.

We rounded the corner and finally had some north in our course. The downside was the headwind. It had been a long time since I had a cat in open water. Even in the small chop the cat banged surprisingly hard. But it was a short two day passage to our first stop. In my cruises along this coast I had never gone into Golfito and was looking forward to finally checking it out. We arrived in the darkest part of the night. I didn’t wake my crew. We had Charlies Charts - Costa Rica to steer by. I brought her in through the lighted buoys to a mooring off what I thought should be the Banana Bay marina. Pablo got up and hooked us to a ball. I backed down just to be sure it wasn’t a crab pot. She held, we slept. More next month.

 -Quality, Balance and a Clean Wake -

Pix - Panama and Costa Rica

Some traffic on the Carib side of the canal.  Yacht Transport to Europe?



Golfito, Costa Rica.  Sounds of monkeys and the smell of the jungle.



Chillin' with my bro's at Land and Sea



Land and Sea, a friend to Cruisers.  Moorings, shower, movies, cold beers, books, overwater deck, bbq, shop and on, for cheap.



On my walk outside of town I discovered what I call the Che' Train.



Fueling at Banana Bay, high end fishing marina.



Wondering where all those fuel jugs went?  This is the starboard side bow locker.  And room for more.



This is the anchorage off of wonderful Playas del Coco - one of my favorite stops in Costa Rica.  This day was bumpy.  It's not usually that bad.  We took a van to Coco from 4 star Marina Papagayo.  It was plush.  This is where Low Key and I anchored for a week in '05 to pull the motor to remove the prop shaft and have it serviced.  I took it to Liberia, 40 miles away.  That's also where Bob Bitchin spent the evening in jail during our cruise in '94 - good times.


 
Calmly parked in beautiful Marina Papagayo.



The 40' Leopard under sail off Costa Rica.  Goes nice in a light beam breeze.

Canal survived

We have headed through the canal and are parked at the Balboa Yacht Club.  Coldies are 1.75.  Need I say more?

Now we wait for crew to arrive.

Leo40 - Panama Canal to Lake Gatun (119)

 Hey look, I’m cruising! Well, sort of. I am helping Paul and Sheila move their 40’ Leopard catamaran through the Panama canal and on up to California. Usually I am on a tight delivery schedule -- only stopping for fuel and provisions. These two like to pull in and take some time to enjoy the finer spots.

Our little adventure had finally begun. It was 0330 and we were driving to LAX to catch our early flight to Panama. My trusty crewmember was hanging out the open door of the vehicle hurling her stomach contents onto Pacific Coast Hwy. In her defense, it had only been a few hours since New Years Eve.

We arrived in Panama City that evening and caught a cab to the Marriott. It was in the “business district”. I didn’t see any business going on but there were a lot of casinos. Dena and I chucked our stuff into the beautiful room, grabbed some takeout and locked ourselves in for the night.

First thing in the morning we met the owners over breakfast. We had talked on the phone but you really don’t know what you are going to get until you meet. They seemed very nice. I figured we’d get along just fine. On the other hand, they had brought a friend along to crew.

We all piled into a taxi van for the long trip to the Caribbean side of the canal. The boat was parked at Shelter Bay marina. While Colon is a pretty rough place, Shelter is alone on the other side of the harbor and is pretty plush. We had to stop the van before crossing the canal to let a ship through the locks. It’s amazing to see that much bulk moving up and across land.

The weather was nice, though a little hot, even for me. We finally rolled up and I got my first glimpse of the boat. Big Kitty hadn’t been touched in six months so she was a mess. We had the man-power and so we all got to work. It took us a couple days but the cat finally looked and ran like a boat again.

Their crew guy and I butted heads a few times about how to set the boat up. He was an ASA instructor and knew everything about boating ... except the first rule: There’s only one skipper. He wasn’t going to be there for the hard part of the trip and I don’t think he understood how things get knocked around when boats venture offshore.

Big Kitty was an ex-charter boat and so she had been run hard and put away wet. Mostly, fiberglass boats stand up well to large amounts of abuse but their engines do not. For starters, the starboard motor had a crooked alternator. The mount had been welded askew and the wrong size bolt was installed, both done by the cat yard in FL. Also, red gear oil was seeping up from the Volvo ‘Saildrive’ (a large outboard leg sticking through the bottom of the boat). I had seen that before.

Dena and Sheila scoured the inside of the boat to make it beautiful for us while Paul ran around making canal and other arrangements. He hired a canal agent. With Low Key, in ‘05, I used Enrique Plummer and he was great. The owners wanted Pete Stevens. I was flexible. There were some mis-communications but ol’ Pete got us measured and into the canal in two days.

After work was done, Dena and I would tour the boatyard or walk the grounds to work up a thirst. Coldies from the bar accompanied us into the marina-side pool for a chill down. After that we’d hit the showers. Marina tenants have access to big shower rooms with rock tile floors, glass block enclosures and bronze over-head waterfall fixtures. Then we’d join the others for a nice dinner in the marina restaurant or Dena and Sheila would prepare a big ship-board meal.

And then it was transit day. We made our final preparations. We had acquired some tires, already wrapped in garbage bags from a previous transit. We secured them to the side of Big Kitty for additional protection. We laid out the four rented lines on deck, ready for deployment to canal walls. I fired up the engines and we headed over to ‘the flats’.

There were only a couple boats anchored there when we arrived and I knew why. I steered us over to check out where the Panama Canal Yacht Club used to be. They had bulldozed the legendary club and marina on Jan 1. Some of the outer buildings were still in tact but the club, with it’s boat shaped bar, where the greats of ocean voyaging had always gathered, ceased to exist. It is the end of an era. A moment of silence please ...

Our canal advisor would be aboard soon so I assembled my team to have our canal discussion -- stations, maneuvers and what to expect. The big steel pilot boat roared up and Edwin hopped aboard with a smile. Edwin had me point toward the first locks at slow clip. As the sun set over the lake above we stared in awe as several large ships passed us, close to port.

Finally our ship came in and we slipped in behind her. With no other yachts on the schedule we were going to lock up alone, center tie. Every other time I’ve done the canal we’ve been with other cruising boats. Once we locked up side tied to a tug -- a good way to go. Usually we were rafted to other cruising boats with shared line responsibilities. With center tie we sat in the middle, alone, responsible for all four lines.

The canal guys tossed aboard their monkey fists and dragged our lines back up the walls. They walked us into the first lock and looped our lines over big bollards. We tightened them onboard BK. Through the purple glow of a sun just set, the big steel king kong doors slowly swung shut behind us. A cool breeze dropped down from the lake to add to the chill. There was some nervous chatter from the crew but mostly it was a hollow quiet ... until the roaring sound of churning water echoed through our cold steel chamber.

Locking up is when mistakes are made. The two kinds of water mixing and the filling action make for the roughest part of the transit process. I had warned my team of the dangers of loosing control of their line. I wasn’t worried though, my team was top shelf, and besides ... “It wasn’t my boat, it was the bosses boat!” -- Captain Ron.

As we made our rocky ascent I looked back at Dena working our port aft line. She doesn’t seem to know nervous or concern. She was giddy with excitement. Three times we locked up and finally we were released into Lake Gatun. It was pitch black as Edwin guided us the mile or so to the big mooring bouys, our home for the night.

We were secure in our perch, almost 80’ above sea level. With the crew distracted in dinner prep, I snuck a coldy and ventured forward into the darkness, onto the massive foredeck, to enjoy the black peacefulness of the lake. On the big bouy across the way, there was a cruising boat that was headed the way we had come. Their skipper called over and we exchanged info on our respective sides of the canal ... as cruisers do. More next month ...

-Quality, Balance and a Clean Wake-


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Curacao to Honduras II (118)

 When I left you last month, my friend Phil and I were delivering a beautiful Tayana 48 from Curacao, in the ABC's, to the island of Roatan in Honduras. We were two days into our 1100nm voyage. We had just cleared the top of Aruba and eased into the open water. I could feel the westbound swell build underneath us as we unfurled more sail. More interestingly, we had just gotten the weather report showing hurricane Ida ramping up and preparing to cross our path.

It works like this. Hurricanes in the Caribbean tend to make right hand turns. They usually come in from the east and eventually swing northwards. Ida was SW of us. If she headed W then she would run into Costa Rica and lose some power. If she headed north then she would cross our path at full strength. It was too early to tell what her plans were and we were still hundreds of miles away, so we so we carried on with full sails.

A Tayana 48 is a family boat. With only two people, we had lots of room to stretch out. Phil took up residence in the grand, full width, aft cabin. I usually sleep in the saloon for deliveries but with Phil on watch I felt comfortable to sleep in the big cabin just forward ... with the door open to stay in tune.

It took a few days but we finally got a proper squall. We had been getting soaked now and then by rogue clouds no wind. This one was different. I had just come on watch as Phil was heading below. He usually hung out for a couple of minutes to chat but not this time. I got the watch recap from him, “No ships, nothing to report … except you might be getting some rain” as he quickly ducked below. I looked behind us and saw the big black starless patch closing fast.

It was the wind that hit us first, I saw 42kts the one time I looked. And then the boat tried to round up. We may have had a little too much main up. The autopilot gave up trying to countersteer. I jumped back behind the wheel, just as the driving rain hit. Phil passed up my foulies. Even 80 degree rain will make you cold after a while. The boat straightened out and the sleigh ride began. I kept us under the beast as long as I could, running with the squall by steering to the wind guage. We were headed in almost the right direction, why not make some easy miles?With enough wind and swell, most boats will surf and Island Time was no exception.

But the big wind didn't last long and we were soon back in the slow 4-5 kt realm of boatspeed. This run across the top of Venezuela is known for it's good E winds, though it also gets confused seas. I got lots of both when I sailed Low Key through there. On this trip we didn't see much of either. It seemed we were sailing on the change of seasons where you usually get a lot of nothing. It would have been an ideal time to move a boat in the other direction. It's rare I get a downwind delivery. It kinda sucked that we didn't have much wind. But the sea is all about overcoming challenges, so we persevered through the light air.

Every morning I logged into Skymate to get the wx. The reports were more interesting now that there was a hurricane to track. Ida had indeed gone ashore and then had turned north. She was expected to pop out the top of Honduras, plow over our destination of Roatan and continue north to spill some margaritas in Cancun. The good news was that she was in a hurry. The estimate had her north of Roatan by the time we could get there.

Going over Buys Ballot Law in my head I figured we could sail under her and get a favorable 'breeze' to drive us home with some conviction. Ol' Christophorus BB tells us that if you are facing into the wind, the center of the low is about 120 degrees to starboard (in N hemisphere). Working backwards, if you already know where the low is going to be you should be able to determine your wind direction … the way I see it. We plodded on.

And then I found it, a Patrick O'Brian book. These are the greatest. If you or a loved one enjoys good historical sailing fiction, you'll love this guy. He has a whole series on British Navy war ships and their adventures. The Seafaring Ship Store should have some in stock by the time you read this. I dove into my find. The days sailed by as I ate, drank and slept in the soup of square rigged adventure. The distraction was good since we had to motor a lot, something I'm not a fan of. We wanted to keep to the delivery estimate. It's the downside to being paid by the day. The old school skippers charged by the mile and just sat out there waiting for wind (or pulled in and partied in every port). So much for progress. The good news was that we never had to run the generator. The motoring helped but it was the wind and solar power that kept us fat with amps. Free clean energy, why not?

And then we entered the islands, more like hard-to-see reefs, off the north end of Nicaragua. Yes, more vigilance was required but on the plus side, the hurricane swell was knocked down to nothing. And the trade wind did come back. With the beautiful, stable conditions I was inspired to fire up the BBQ and make the chicken that had been calling to me from the freezer. It was a sunny flat day with a warm aft breeze, a couple coldies, a transom shower and a BBQ'd critter – just about a perfect afternoon.

Alas, Ida had moved off to the north, clearing the way for our arrival into Roatan. I say clearing the way, but what we experienced was a whole lot of rain that last night as we ran the gap between mainland Honduras and her northern islands. We had finally found all the cockpit covers so we mostly stayed dry. On the bright side, there would be less post-delivery scrubbing.

We put on the brakes that night, electing to arrive by day. The harbor at Roatan has a tricky reef-strewn entrance. We rolled up to the outer bouy at 0800. The owners had arranged a parking spot at a place called Barefoot Cay. We called on the radio and Santos came out in a skiff to lead Island Time to our berth.

That Barefoot Cay place was plush. On it's own a private island, it had all the amenities: a pool, a restaurant with icy pints and a long pier with a palapa at the end for snorkeling the wrecks. And there was a free shuttle to shore where they had a full service dive shop. Phil fit a bunch of dives into our day and a half stay. We even toured both ends of the island with a few of the resort guests who had a car.

I'm off to deliver a 40' cat through the canal and up to S CA. That story next month.

-Quality, Balance and a Clean Wake-