April fool

We watched the weather reports for a week before. There was a perfect weather window approaching. Perfect for what you ask? Well to sail over to the Dominican Republic, our next destination. We have been in Provo long enough for our budget. That is to say we have done all that can be done for free...legally. The hop to the DR is 86 miles from Sand Cay, our last island before crossing the Hispaniola Plain, and over 200 miles from Turtle Cove Marina, where we are currently staying. We met another boat that was also making the crossing and decided that we would cross together for safety's sake. The wind was going to blow from the northeast which would allow us to sail right to Ocean World, our destination in the DR.  This isn't always possible.
It would be a 4 day sail. In preparation, I cooked a huge batch of 13-bean chicken chili. This would last us the entire trip. When you're on a multiple day crossing such as this one, it becomes very difficult to cook or even heat up anything, variety is not as important as getting a hearty meal quickly. 

A big pot of Bob's Red Mill, 13 bean Chicken Chili would be our sustenance for the passage.

Even the weather Guru on the radio was saying it was the perfect weather window...that is until the day after we left the dock.

The weather was gorgeous as we departed on this passage.

Sunset off of Sapodilla Bay,

Eva always blows the conch horn at sunset.

Shortly after disconnecting ourselves from shore power, and communication, something happened. Things changed, it was no longer the perfect window; it was now the highest, roughest waves of the year, and we didn't even know it. The first and second day did not offer a clue as to the pummeling we would have to endure on the back end of the crossing. On the 3rd day it was another matter.

The weather turned on us. That's the Dominican Republic in the distance.

Almost there!

We couldn't wait to step off!

It's fun defy gravity.

We had a stiff current working against us and the waves were on the nose, just stopping us in our tracks. The GPS would go from 2 miles per hour to 0.0 miles per hour, and then back to 2, over and over. Oh, this is going to be a long one, been there before. Water would wash over the deck like Abuela was hosing down the front porch. It would drizzle in from the hatch on top of our bed, and drip in from all the windows. Every few hours Poseidon would wallop me with 5 gallons of water at the helm, just in case I was falling asleep. My eyes would burn from the salt. It felt horrible as the water made it's way down the inside of my jacket, as my warm clothes turned wet. I know it's almost summer but I was freezing cold. Inside, everything was on the floor. Going to the bathroom was quite the challenge. Ever try pulling your pants down while using both hands to hold yourself in place? Not easy. Then I would open the lid and it would shut itself before I could sit. I had to figure out how accomplish all of these tasks simultaneously. I was really angry after a few attempts, but this was not something I could just accept to fail at, success was crucial.

Eva went goofy from the hard crossing!

The kids are really savvy and just try to sleep through it all, but 90 hours is a lot of sleep. Marie and I take turns at the wheel, but you can't really get any rest, even when you're not driving. It was just too rough. I try not to think about it and just let the hours melt off the clock. It will all come to pass, I tell myself, and occasionally Marie, as to give her strength to hold on. Yeah, the lows are lower.
It was a dark night. I could see a halo of light coming from Puerto Plata on the horizon. We must be within 30 miles of reaching land. The wind had built up. So loudly the wind baffled past my head that I couldn't hear all but the loudest of noise. The boat was now flying through the water at 7 to 8 knots. If a squall came up I would not be able to see it until it was too late. Another hour went by, and I decided to take in the sail and continue by motor, hoping this would be easier. As it turned out the sails had been helping to steady the boat. We now rolled from one extreme to the other. The sky was now slowly turning from night to day. In the distance, I could now see the actual lights from Puerto Plata. We were now closing in, maybe 12 miles from land. I could feel the weight lifting off my shoulders. Not too much longer now, 3 or 4 hours more. We had not seen our buddy boat in twelve hours. They were somewhere behind us. Mirador is fast under sail.
It was hard to distinguish the approach to Ocean World Marina. It wasn't until we were very close that we could discern the buoys that mark the entrance. The numerous attempts to hail the Marina on the radio had gone unanswered. Finally, the dock master instructed us over to the fuel dock to await immigration.
There was a 3 meter ocean swell that carried us down the rows of buoys. At the end of the channel was a jagged rocky shore, to the left, a few yards before the rocks, was the entrance to the Marina. At the right moment, you have to make a sharp left turn into the safety of marina. Hopefully the swell doesn't broach you or carry you onto the rocky shore.
Finally, we were inside the marina and tied to the fuel dock. As if the sea gods had one final joke in store for me, the dock was as high as my shoulders. How am I supposed climb onto this slick concrete dock? The dock jockey was a strong, fit, middle aged man with a voice like Shirley Temple. I kept looking around for a ventriloquist.  With a lot help from my new friend and a priceless Baby Huey moment, I was standing on dry land.

Here we are, all cleared in, and in our slip.

Eva, Hadrian and Arias enjoying the pool at Ocean World.

And so it was that the first April fools joke of the month was played on us by Poseidon. 

Amazing Provo

As I began to study the geography of Turks and Caicos, I thought that it was a somewhat hostile coastline with not many places to seek shelter. The few areas that there were required navigating around treacherous reefs to gain access. The whole southern coast of the islands is way too shallow to even risk going there with Mirador, I would literally be feeling my way around. I have had my fill of that.

Eva posing with the conch farm in the background. Yeah, not much there.

We are staying at a marina called Turtle Cove. As you may should have read in an earlier post, we needed a guide to get us in here. Once inside the marina you're totally protected from most weather short of a hurricane. The amenities abound on this island. I do not know how this island nation has been able to out-compete the other places around the Caribbean for tourism. Although surrounded by beautiful waters, the islands themselves are not very large. How they manage to attract a disproportionate amount of business is a mystery to me. Most of the northern shore of Provo is lined with resort hotels, one after the other. The grocery store is very similar to our "Fresh Market" chain only better manicured. All is available here, for a price, a high price. Yet, the store is full, a detail such as price is no matter. High-end shops frame the Boulevard, and the streets just bustle with tourists. In the souvenir shops it is standing room only.
On the waters side of all this mad peddling is a similar commercial phenomena. All manner of water activities are offered. They will push you, pull you, dunk you, and even fly you, all for a price. Everyone is trying to make the best of their 5 to 7 day vacation. They have waited all year for this. They are money rich, but time poor, and so a sense of urgency fuels this frenzy.
Then there is the culinary side of this race of indulgence. All of the "What-to-do in Provo" magazines that are handed out for free (the only thing that is) at every establishment are cluttered with ads for restaurants that feature some renown chef, and his creations. The images are so beautiful that one is torn between eat it or hanging it on the wall, reservations required.
On Thursday there is an emulation of a vernacular event called a "fish fry". On many of the islands, the natives have a recurring event, one day a week, or even one day a month, where several vendors sell local foods and the local bands get to demonstrate their talents, all in an open field or on the side of the road. The food vendors line up on either side of an open area, in kiosks, and display hand painted signs or banners of their offerings. Tables are scattered about where one can sit after the hard decision of what to eat has been made. In an effort to give credit where credit is due, all things being relative, they do pour a good drink. 

The kids enjoyed the playgrounds, they were quite nice.

The Junkanoo band at the Fish Fry.

The kids were able to gain access to one of the resort pools.

Provo, as do most of these islands, does have amazingly beautiful nature resources. The commercial side of this paradise exists only because we support it, and we support it because it's what some of us want. Different strokes for different folks. Life is beautiful.

A little care goes a long way

It's no secret that "I like to cook", and I've had a good deal of practice. It's like therapy for me. I just lose myself in the kitchen, and all my troubles seem far away. When I am done, I usually bring smiles to people's faces, my own included. It sure beats the heck out of driving to Micky D's, and shooting a few patrons, don't you think? When you cook, a little care goes a long way. For all the effort that I can put into a meal, the base ingredients that I use can mean the difference between great results or just good results. Over the years I have found myself favoring a line of products from a small, attention-oriented company by the name of "Bob's Red Mill".

Products from Bob's Red Mill.

About 2 months ago I was writing in my blog, sharing a recipe that uses a meat substitute called TVP. When I stepped back from my computer and looked at my article, and I thought, "I should write to this company and see if they would contribute in some small way to our cruising adventure." I mean, I am writing the article anyway, and I do use their products, anyway. Maybe we could both benefit from this relationship. No, what are the chances that they would even respond? They have bigger fish to fry, right (pardon the pun)? Aw, what the heck let me write them. And so, I looked up their web page, and shot them an email. Almost a week went by when I received a response from the folks at Bob's Red Mill saying they would love to send me some products to try. What a stand-up group they are!

Now don't get me wrong, it's not so much the value of the products that they sent me that matters. I could just go to the store and stock up as I wish, but it is just the fact that they show genuine care for what they do. This company has a "soul" if you will. They have shown interest in our travels, and would like to contribute a little. It is going to be my pleasure to go through the goody bag that they sent me, and share the results with you. And, if should just mess a recipe up, well then you won't hear about that one.

It is the morning after a long 48 hour sail, and the kids are hungry, I'm a little beat so let's start with an easy breakfast, "buttermilk pancakes".
The buttermilk pancake mix comes much like the national brands that we grew up using. You just need to add an egg, milk, shortening. The proportions are on the bag. One little tip, do not over mix the batter. Mix until all of the ingredients are well blended, and no more. The batter will be slightly lumpy, not a problem. It's kinda funny that my clothes may not have a brand name on them, but I will only use maple syrup, sorry Gucci. This reminds me of a friend I used to have, we would drive to the movie theater, we were teenagers. All the way there he would point out each article of clothing that he was wearing, and state the designer, and the price, "tie by Salvatore Such & Such, one hundred twenty bucks, shirt by Feliciano Ricci", and so on, all the way to theater, and later, at the theater he asked me for a little money! I told him to sell the tie. Yeah, we couldn't stay friends.

Hadrian and Eva enjoying pancakes and maple syrup, their idea of roughing it?

Oh yes, everybody loved the buttermilk pancakes!

Good bye Bahamas, hello Provo

I can't tell you how many people have told me that the Bahamas were the best cruising grounds. Unfortunately, I have this need to see things for myself, a trait that has had its miss fires. Our 3 day stay at Clarence Town morphosed into a 2 week stay. Boy, can we milk a clock?

These crabs come out of their borrows in the rainy season, millions of them. The natives eat them.

We were looking at a nice 3 day weather window. That's enough to get us to the Turks and Caicos. We really wanted to have more stops along the way, but lets get serious, the way we cling to each stop, there just isn't enough time. Provo is about 180 miles away, and those are nautical miles. With our "speed demon" of a boat, that's about 48 to 50 hours of sailing. Staying up 48 hours was nothing in my college days. I think I did it once a week, which would explain my grades, but no seriously, I am quite witty with 8 hours of sleep. After little to and fro we decided it was a go. We squared up with the marina, and backed out unceremoniously.

Bye bye Clarence Town. Look at that water!

At first the wind was on our nose, but light. We motored at about three and a half knots. The waves were small, but there were these swells that rolled the boat, up the hill, and down the hill. I promised Marie things would be better in about 8 hours. For once, I didn't lie. The swells diminished and wind switched over to our port side. We motor sailed for about 16 hours at a nice 5 knots. And then it all died. I mean it went flat. Here we were in 10,000 feet of water, and it was all becalmed. So, we motored, the whole 48 hours, we motored. Now, when I put this boat together, I didn't think much of sound insulation, I mean, it is a sailboat right? Man was I wrong, when we motor we might as well just put a saddle on the engine and ride it! Anywhere inside the boat, it is so loud that we have to scream at each other. Imagine, if you will, 48 hours of this.

Looks like a lake!

Eva and Hadrian looking over the calm ocean.

A foot puppet can make life interesting.

Actually, after a while you can sleep quite well with the engine noise. That is if nobody plays with the throttle. The kids may not have noticed that anything had changed. They just went about their day and slept through the nights. For Marie and I, things were a bit different. We would take turns at the wheel, about 4 hour shifts, though I take longer shifts because she tends to the kids too.

From 30 miles away you could see the sky glow over Provo. We were a couple of miles away at about 8 am. I had read that the entrance to the harbor was so tricky that it was best to use the complimentary pilot service.

Hadrian helped guide me through the harbor. The pilot boat is in the background.

A pilot is a guide that escorts you into and out of a harbor. We called the marina, and after a little confusing garbling back and forth a pilot appeared  to guide us in. It was a winding trail through the reefs, and yet again we left stripe in the sand. 

Eva sitting with the Customs agent at Turtle Cove Marina. I think we got half off the regular price!

Onward to Clarence Town

We plowed out of the Redshanks anchorage on a low tide, literally plowed. Our draft is 7 feet and the depth sounder read 6...I believe the depth sounder. I am sure we left a stripe in the sand. We left at 4:30 pm, on a low tide. Why? I had this need to draw closure to the George Town experience. I have come to realize that we tend to just get too comfortable in an area and just dwell, and it was happening again. Don't get me wrong, we have had the time of our lives. We have met many great people, and forged bonds. Some I am sure will last a lifetime. Call me the incredible barbecuing party bear.

These lobsters think I am their friend!

Eva and Hadrian lookout for coral heads as we leave Elizabeth Harbor.

The truth be told, we are way behind schedule. Yes, I know that this may sound like an oxymoron, but even out here, there are elements that dictate a schedule...like say "hurricane season". We should be down by Grenada no later than August to avoid hurricanes.

Our next destination is Clarence Town on Long Island. It is a 10 or 12 hour sail, so we must sail over-night in order to arrive in the morning, with enough daylight to navigate around the coral heads at the entrance of the harbor.

We had a pretty nice sail, but there were times that the depth of the water went from 3000 feet to 30, and the waves kinda build up in these areas. The seas were so rough at times that I had to hold on with both hands.  Everything on the boat got rearranged. We did not however, have to steer the boat the whole way through. Otto Mann, our wind vane steering system drove the whole way there. The only problem is he doesn't have any eyes so we must always be on watch for any other boats.

The aftermath of an easy sail, a view of the main salon.

A view of the galley.

A view of the main salon, port side.

 The entrance to Clarence Town was a scary proposition with 2 out of 3 buoys that mark the entrance, missing, and the depth of the water again went from 3000 feet to 30. Needless to say, we made it. My guess is that we have a team of guardian angles working on our case, constantly.

After a brief scare from the marina, saying that they didn't have room for us, they found an empty slip. and we were soon nestled in, and connected to shore power for the first time in a month. The first thing on was the air conditioner. I sat there with my mouth wide open over a vent for a while. It's the little things!

Every place has it's unique and endearing characteristics. Clarence Town and Long Island has it's churches, and many, many cemeteries. In fact, someone needs to enlighten them to the cremation alternative as space is running out.

We were planning on staying here for about 3 days so we rented a car to run up and down the 80 miles of roads. We stopped to see Hamilton's cave. I wasn't too sure about this but Marie was playing tourist so I just followed, not expecting much. That cave was impressive. The mere scale of it! It must have been about 100,000 square feet, like a "Home Depot". There were 5 species of bats that called the cave home. Lenard the owner and tour guide told us that they would play hide-n-go-seek there as children, many decades ago. My guess is they must have used dogs to sniff the hiders out?

One of many chambers inside Hamilton Cave.

We continued our drive up the island, and stopped at the Stella Maris Marina. Well not really stopped, but more like slowed down. There is not much there. Next was Santa Maria Resort, the northernmost destination. Not quite what we were looking for, we were back in the car after a brief walk. Marie had read about some 18th century plantation ruins that seemed promising so we went searching. There was a decent sign off the main road, Queens Highway, that pointed the way. The road went from paved to dirt to over grown with foliage, about a mile altogether. It got rougher, and then just dead ended at the waters edge, no place to pull-over, it just ended. We got out and followed some tracks on the beach that looked like they came from somebody better informed than us. As we walked along the beach we came across a distinct row of conch shells that led to a path in the woods. So, we followed that path. We came across very well produced signs that assured us that we were on the right path. It was about a half mile walk in the woods before we arrived at the ruins, a rock wall and 2 small roofless sheds so overgrown with brush that you really couldn't make out much. The mosquitoes had us where they wanted us. We had to run out of there.

We stopped at a not-so-super "supermarket" on the way back home. The need for a semantics police becomes really apparent at times. We bought a box of pasta that turned out to have more protein than carbohydrates, maggots!

The following day we drove to "Deans Blue Hole". Right off the beach, I mean 3 feet off the beach, there is a 600 foot deep hole. It is about 70 feet across. Free divers come here to practice and compete. It's amazing and eerie at the same time, it's amazingly eerie.

Marie and Hadrian in front of Deans blue hole.

Later that same day we drove up to Stella Maris Resort. Different than the marina by the same name. They had two pools, one was a tidal pool, quite cool. The kids really enjoyed their time at the resort, and I enjoyed my time at the resorts bar, You see I had to consume so that the kids were allowed to use the facilities...a win-win if you will.

Back at the Flying Fish Marina, our neighbor is quite the fisherman. He returns each evening loaded with wahoo, tuna, and dolphin, more than he could ever use. I am more than happy to take some off of his hands. In fact, I'm so happy with this arrangement that I bake him bread, it's the least I could.

Wahoo by the bag full, what a treat!

I bake bread for my generous neighbor, to keep my conscience clean.

Never Never Land

We were cruising for a couple of months before we ran into another boat with children on board. I was feeling a little like Columbus must have felt as he looked for India all the while his crew murmured of a mutiny. My crew doesn't murmur, it's more of a beller.

Elizabeth Harbor is a kids mecca. There are about 50 children in the "City of Lights" (refer to previous post). The adults are constantly looking for ways to keep them busy, myself included. We constantly have play-dates, it's just a mass shuffle of kids. We send one that way, and they send two this way. There seems to always be the pitter-patter little feet every where. They climb in one hatch then out of another, like meerkats. They swing from the lines and rigging. They really use all of the space they are confined to, all 3 dimensions of it, up down, and sideways. I have learned to tune them out quite successfully. 

Eva and Hadrian are starting an herb garden.

Eva with Lily in the background. They're going to grow gills.

Hadrian in a kayak race.

We are seriously close to checkout time here. In another month the trade-winds will blow strong, and it will be too hard to head south. I honestly have some reservations about leaving the flock, and for several reasons.
Just a minute ago two dolphins came by the boat and the kids put down their pencils and jumped in the water to swim with them, is that cool or what! How many people experience that? They are beautiful animals...the dolphins, not the kids.
I have never been one to leave a party early, but it's time, it's time to leave Never Never Land.

Are we making progress?

For centuries we wrote on paper, and for the most part we have had a decent survival rate, some book burnings aside. If you write something down on paper, chances are it will be around for a long time. Now some of you may not remember this, but back in the 90's I put a lot of information on what they called 5.25 floppy disks. Later came 3.5" floppy disks, but these were not floppy at all, they were quite ridged. For at least whole decade I stored things on floppy disks. When is the last time anyone has seen a floppy disk reader? It's a good thing I have had nothing important to say. It seems my creditors did not use these, that, or they have very good memories?

I have also had very bad experiences with televisions. I do not own one, but over the past few years when I find myself as a guest at a place with a television I find that I cannot even turn the thing on. I mean there are three controls on the coffee table, and you must press the correct buttons on each of these controls or you get nothing. All the controls have the same buttons, more or less. Only the true owner can start the system, if this is not so, somebody throw me a bone here. Is it only me, has the world moved on without me? I think not.

I thought things were changing, back in 1985 I had a cell phone. It came in a briefcase, and weighed about as much as I did at the time. Not long afterwards came the Motorola cell phone, we called it "the brick" because it had the uncanny proportions, and weight of a red clay brick...we're making progress. Back at the turn of the century someone went too far, and made a few cell phones so small that you couldn't even dial, the numbers were too small. Then came the "smart phones", these phones allow you to upload your life. You no longer have to remember any numbers. You can access your email, bank account, electric bill, and yes your phone bill. Do not lose one of these babies, or you'll be set back ten years. 

So, here we are, it's 2014, it seems that satellite phones have come of age, it's their turn, they have waited patiently. With a sat phone you can make phone calls from even the most remote places on earth. They do not require land based antennas hence the name, satellite phone. They have come so far that you can even use it to get on the internet...or so they told me. What a novel idea, I can use this sat phone for calling home from any location the winds might take me, and download crucial weather reports. I was sold. I have had my sat phone for a year now. I have had 4 different tech geeks (sorry bout this guys) trying to accomplish what the company says you can do, data, and no one has been able to receive a byte! So now I find myself way far from home with no way to get weather other than to ask my neighbor on the boat next to me, who bought a HAM radio instead.