Jacky's Log March 2007
Turks & Caicos - Dominican Republic – Puerto Rico
It proved impossible to clear out of Turks and Caicos on Sunday, so having read that it was possible to do so at Ambergris Cay in the Turks group of islands, we set off across the Caicos Bank early the next day.
More shallow water, hours of coral-head spotting, made difficult this time by clouds in the sky which produced dark patches on the water below not unlike rock or coral.
Soon, though, we stopped steering round them! We were by now fairly good at discerning the difference between dark areas caused by clouds, patches of grass, rocks deep enough to sail over and vicious coral heads. These were always a more rusty brown with a much sharper edge to them – altogether more threatening. Sunlight reflecting from the turquoise sea lit the underside of the cumulus clouds turning them a pale, luminous blue – a very strange phenomenon.
Shian and Caribbean Soul had come into Sapodilla Bay on Sunday night, the blue ensign on Shian and the pretty shape of Caribbean Soul ( a cutter-ketch with green sail covers) catching our eye. The three of us were heading in the same direction – south-eastwards towards the Dominican Republic (DR) – and we stayed in radio contact with them over the next few days until we finally met up in Luperon, DR.
They headed for Big Sand Cay but we still needed to clear out. The anchorage at Ambergris Cay is at least a mile from land, any closer and it is too shallow. We dropped anchor in what felt like the middle of nowhere, surrounded by those rusty brown coral heads but, surprisingly, it was not rolly. What a relief.
The next morning we were unable to raise the marina on the radio and it appeared to be unfinished. We decided to go on north-eastwards to Salt Cay where Bruce had told us the local policeman could clear us out. It also gave us a better angle on the wind for our passage south to Luperon. We motored slowly, zigzagging to avoid the greeny lanes of elk-horn coral, sometimes seeming to be entirely surrounded by one kind of coral or another.
Salt Cay, as its name suggests, was once important for salt production and at its centre is a large salt pan or salina. It was destroyed by a hurricane years and ago and has never revived. (pic 736) We found the policeman’s house and although he was friendly and helpful he no longer had the powers to clear people in and out, but he would check with his superiors to see if he could make an exception and would let us know. We walked around the island, met some of its feral donkeys and cows, smiled at the dusty dual-carriageway track complete with ‘No Entry’ and ‘One Way’ signs and found the policeman in the local divers’ café. He apologised; he couldn’t help us.
The wind was still too strong for the crossing to Luperon, so that afternoon we set off northwards for a short but fast sail to Grand Turk and were very glad we did so. It is one of the few islands with an historical settlement on it – Cockburn Town, for 400 years the capital of the islands.
The anchorage was near the dock where we would be able to clear out the next day. Just metres behind us the water was dark blue - another big drop-off. (Within 40 seconds of upping anchor when we left, the depth sounder had gone off scale at 600 feet.) With squalls forecast, we dug deep into the lazerette for the big 65lb CQR anchor and using the topping lift hauled it into the dinghy. Second anchor set, we dinghied ashore and made enquiries about fueling. Before we knew it, the fuel truck was on its way and we had to race back to the boat, haul up two anchors and motor over to the dock. Mike filtered the diesel to minimise any problems we might have with dirty fuel.
Fueled up and paperwork done, we hitch-hiked the four miles to Cockburn Town, getting a lift from the very first passing car.
The little town is very charming, with attractive old houses, pretty gardens, and a few dilapidated warehouses along Front Street, just back from the sea, as well as administrative buildings and churches.
I was keen to buy some stamps for my brother-in-law, colourful stamps being one of the things that these islands do. The rather impressive post office had them on display but couldn’t sell them to me.
A lovely woman, called Girlie Garland, who worked in an office at the top of some wooden stairs, could – but not without some difficulty.
We chose the stamps, she wrapped them carefully and then we paid her. Her problem was that she had no change – notes or coins – available, and had to send to the Treasury building next door – rather like sending to the Bank of England for change for the corner shop!
It took a long time coming, during which we learnt about her adopted grandchildren and nieces and nephews, and admired all her photographs and letters of testimony for all her good works in Cockburn. Indeed, before her she had a letter she had been writing, inviting the local townswomen to join her in the Church’s women’s band. It was a nice gentle, interlude in our day.
Grand Turk has just become a destination on the big cruise ship itinerary and we were surprised to come on deck and see a large vessel quite close by. A beach café and small, newly-built retail units spring into life for the passengers, selling them the merchandise they want to buy, then close as the ship departs. A totally artificial environment is laid on for them, probably by the cruise line. We wondered if the passengers knew.
We talked to Shian about setting off the next day or joining them at Big Sand Cay, but in the end did neither. They set off during the afternoon and we left the next day for the 80 mile passage to Luperon in the Dominican Republic.
We needed to be at the entrance to Luperon at dawn, before the trade winds started building but with light enough to see the transits. Eager to get off after our long delay, we left Grand Turk rather earlier than necessary, had a good sail and then dawdled through the evening and night. The courtesy flag for the Dominican Republic was one of the easier ones to make!
During the months of January, February and March practically the entire North Atlantic population of hump-backed whales, over 10,000 of them, congregate to mate and give birth in the waters through which we were about to sail. They splash their fins and their tails, throw themselves into the air to attract attention and sing low, melodic songs. I had high hopes of seeing their wonderful displays and hearing their song. Sadly we did neither. The only whale encounter we had during the entire trip, we were simply looking the other way. Back at Salt Cay, the people at the divers’ café asked if we had seen the whale leaping right in front of Gypsy Dancer. We had been in the cockpit, looking down, stuffing belongings into the rucksack for our trip ashore. Only seconds later we jumped into the dinghy and went ashore. I’m not sure we would have done so had we known there was a whale in the vicinity.
The highlight of the night crossing for me was swimming in the phosphorescence with a couple of kilometers of water beneath me while Mike led me round the boat with a rope tied round my waist. The view from the water was wonderful, splashing diamonds all around me, but from where Mike stood it was even better – apparently I was outlined in luminosity. The dead calm was proof of the existence of Bruce van Sant’s night lees!
For much of the night we could see the distant glimmer of the electrical storms which almost nightly drift north-west off the coast of Puerto Rico. A rain shower appeared on our radar but didn’t cause us a problem.
As dawn broke we were entranced by what we saw ahead. Until now we had had to scan the horizon for our landfalls. They had been low, scrubby islands hardly rising above sea level, with a strip of sand eventually appearing above the turquoise water. Here were high, steep, dark hills, forested and with no white strip of sand. 811 As it became lighter and we approached the entrance to the deep-set protected anchorage at Luperon, we saw that the land was fringed with mangroves, their grey fingers reaching into the greeny dark water. In place of the occasional squawk of a sea bird, the hillsides were full of rich bird song; instead of the soft scent of aromatic shrubs and blossoms, we could smell green dampness and wood smoke. Tall palm trees rose above the forest along the high skyline and mist swathed the slopes below. This was most definitely something very different.
We glided in quietly watching the depth carefully, following our waypoints through the shallow banks and narrows where boats often go aground, and safely found a good place to anchor amongst the many yachts which seek shelter in one of the few safe anchorages along this northern shore of the Dominican Republic. It was a magical arrival and we were full of excited anticipation about what we would find ashore.
It was not long before we were hailed by Pabo on his little boat. He provides services to the boats in the harbour, bringing out good drinking water and fuel. He explained how the DR Navy would come out to us soon, but as they had no boat we would need to pay whoever brought them. Two young men, one with a gun stuffed into his waistband, came along to do the formalities.
There were more formalities and inflated fees for this and that ashore – immigration, agriculture, tourist card, etc.– and then we went to explore. The Dominican Republic is Spanish speaking, friendly, enthusiastic and cheerful. It still has some way to go in its development, houses are humble, but brightly painted and with an abundance of flowering plants about, power and water supply are very intermittent, but people seem to have generators and forms of water storage to lessen the inconvenience. Pics: 823 832 The main street is lined with a vast range of small shops and you get the impression that almost anything you want would be available here if you searched hard enough. Goats and dogs amble about and young men sit around on their motorbikes.
There is quite a population of cruisers who have stayed on, live-aboards and people who have settled into the area. Bruce van Sant is said to be building a house there. His boat is anchored just around the bay.
The meeting place for cruisers is Steve’s Place, where you can buy good beer, have a good meal, buy fresh fruit and vegetables, hire motorbikes, have laundry done, arrange transport, use his internet connection – in fact, just about anything you need, he does. It was here we finally met up with Paul and Janie from Shian and Nick and Deanne from Caribbean Soul, as well as the crews of Sol y Mar, Perseverance, Lone Star and Moonsail.
With several days to spend while we waited for a weather window, we hired a car with Paul and Janie and visited the hinterland. The countryside was dramatic – through fields of sugar cane to steep-sided hills with banana and plantain plants, palm trees and forest, trees with large, flame red flowers, others in the distance a haze of orange.
The highlight of the day was undoubtedly our visit to the waterfalls. With a young guide, and kitted out with helmets, safety vests and rubber shoes, we waded and swam through rivers and climbed up 7 waterfalls, and then turned and slid back down them. At times we were flying into the plunge pools below. It was exhilarating, but we were glad we had not opted to do the full 27 falls!
Mike and Paul took easily to driving Dominican style, dodging deep potholes and gulleys with the best of them, Mike’s grand finale being taking a corner at a junction three abreast!
We were all eagerly weather watching, needing three good days of winds less than 15 knots which would give us the night lees we would need along this otherwise windy coast. Daytime winds are enhanced by coastal acceleration and the squeezing effect of the numerous capes along the way, making progress impossible. There are few bolt holes along the long north coast of DR and many are inaccessible in a northerly swell. There are difficult sea states caused by dramatic changes in the sea bed. The shallow Hourglass Shoal lies off the east coast of the Dominican Republic yet the deepest part of the Atlantic – the Puerto Rican Trench – lies along the north coast of Puerto Rico (PR) just a few miles away. On top of this, huge storm clouds build over the high interior of PR during the day, bringing electrical storms barrelling down to the coast in the early evening which drift off north-westwards into the Mona Passage. We were fortunate in having a forecast window for three days of decreasing wind and swells, but followed by worsening weather.
We followed Bruce van Sant’s advice to stage out to an anchorage near the entrance to Luperon from where we could observe the sea beyond the reefs and wait until the wind had entirely dropped. We were joined by Shian and together we sat and waited, exchanging thoughts by radio occasionally and sleeping. Several of the other boats left at 1900, worried about the fishing buoys near the harbour entrance.
Within minutes of getting out into the open sea they were being hit by very strong winds and a confused and high sea. We worried whilst we listened to their radio conversations. It sounded horrific but they didn’t feel they could turn back into the entrance in the dark. We waited on. When we finally left at 2300, shining a strong light from the bow to spot the fishing buoys, the sea had calmed to a large extent and the wind too and though the first 10 miles is famously bouncy it was not a problem and soon we were motor-sailing close-in parallel to the coast. We continued all night and the next day, experiencing a thunderstorm and squalls in the afternoon.
We had already reefed as the squalls came in. Although we were hit by rain and gusts, a boat 4 miles behind us suffered more, nearly losing their dinghy when it rapidly filled with rainwater. It was encouraging to hear from boats ahead from time to time and learn that conditions there were better. Sadly, one of the boats, Sol y Mar suffered engine failure and was forced to rely on sail alone through a long and almost windless night finally making Samana, a safe haven, the following morning. Another boat stayed behind with her.
After skirting the Hourglass Shoals and the squalls in the Mona Passage it was a relief to make landfall at Mayaguez, PR, dropping anchor at about 21.30 hrs, 240 miles and 46 hours from Luperon. Perseverance, Shian and Caribbean Soul had been there some time, and Paul and Janie stood on deck watching us arrive – a nice welcome. Soon we were all soundly asleep after what had, in the end, turned out to be a relatively straightforward crossing of this notoriously tricky passage.
Again we were anchored next to the port but we cleared in early before the ferry from DR arrived, upped anchor and set off for Boqueron, a little way round the coast. We took a route very close inshore with some lovely, lazy sailing, followed by a 2 minute wind hole, followed by a roaring blast into Boqueron. The others took a different route but came along behind us on the same heading but the opposite tack!
Boqueron was quite an attractive place which springs into life at weekends when it is popular with students from Mayaquez. It was quiet when we were there.
After admiring a garden full of flowers with smiles and a few words, the owner cut me a beautiful big bunch, which looked splendid in the cockpit for a couple of days. Yes, we sailed with them too!
We had a good meal with Nick and Deanne, Paul and Janie and on the second night were invited onto Perseverance to share a wahoo, the large fish Nick had caught on passage from DR. It was very good!
The next day we moved in the afternoon to an anchorage under the lighthouse at Cabo Roja. Shian joined us and we had an 'sundowner' with them. They would be speeding ahead of us along the south coast of PR, whereas we had a little more time, needing to be no further than Salinas so that I could get to San Juan for my flight home. The weather was grey and stormy. In fact there was a lot of cloud in Puerto Rico.
Before dawn the following morning we set off round the corner (yes, another one of those, but at this time of day totally benign) to La Parguera.
We arrived mid-morning as the winds were picking up. The anchorages are set amongst mangrove-covered cays. 904 Pretty wooden houses with verandahs have been built over the water and we enjoyed a dinghy ride around the little islands. The town itself though was disappointing, being basically a collection of not particularly nice bars.
We tried to leave the next day but had left it rather late and the wind was strong. We returned to a slightly different anchorage and explored different islands.
We were up at 0300 the next morning to leave at 0400 and caught the island lees and then reasonable wind, doing a couple of good tacks towards Guanica, then turning for Cayo de Cana Gorda, or Gilligan's Island as it is known – apparently because of its similarity to the island in the TV show.
Later we dinghied up the narrow creek between the mangroves to the beach on the other side and drift-swam back on the current in the warm water.
Another 03.00 start the next day took us to Ponce, quite a large city. We anchored in very deep water off the Ponce Yacht and Fishing Club. It was Sunday and we taxied into the town to visit its main square which was reputed to be attractive. It was a bit of a let-down. We walked to an art gallery, a lovely building, but which had some rather nondescript European paintings and a few refreshing, newer pictures by local artists.
Walking back we found streets with the local style of house building, which was quite unusual and attractive. We saw it again later in the week in our drive across the island.
The anchorage was very close to La Guancha – a board walk thronged with people on weekend evenings, competing loud music and food stalls. Fortunately for us, it was a rainy, grey evening so the throngs didn’t materialise. We were so tired we slept soundly through the music.
Early the next day we set off for Playa de Salinas. We were glad to leave the city behind and Salinas was a deep attractive bay with a narrow entrance which was difficult to spot amongst the mangroves until you were almost upon it.
Playa de Salinas is quiet and relaxed with a few restaurants and a cruisers’ galley with the fastest wifi we encountered all trip, good breakfasts and endless cups of coffee.
We did more exploring in the dinghy, spent an age trying to hire a car to take me to San Juan and then find someone to take us to the car hire place.
The grey, stormy clouds gathered as the day wore on, giving a dramatic sunset.
On my last morning Mike finally had to collar a young man working in the marina and implore him to take us to the car rental place 15 miles away. He was bemused but did so.
We drove over the mountains to San Juan in ever darker skies until in San Juan it started to rain.
We found the guest house we had booked for the night, within easy distance of the airport, and walked around looking for a restaurant. The heavens opened and we were thoroughly drenched by a long, tropical downpour. Water was sloshing in our shoes. Mine finally dried, still on my feet, almost 48 hours later.
It just about fitted my mood though. I was sad to leave the boat as she carried on to exciting places without me and sad to leave Mike to carry on the journey alone.
