St. Barts,
Anse du Colombier
17.55.457N
62.52.191
While I attended to finances in the internet café, Dale checked us out of customs in anticipation of our departure from St. Martin and entry into St. Bart’s.
A couple of hours later, we hoisted our anchor and motorsailed out of Marigot Bay and headed north around the island. We turned off the motor as we rounded between St. Martin and the little island of Ilet Tintamarre and sailed the rest of the way to St. Bart’s on a single tack. Although it felt as if we were speeding along, we were only doing between 4.5-5kts most of the way.
The Leeward Islands are much like the Virgin Islands and Bahamas in that once you get here, they are all in line of sight of each other, just a little further apart. In the Virgins, you can sail from one end to the other in a day. Here, it may take you the better part of the day to reach the next island, but you can see it on the horizon before you leave.
We took turns reading the cruising guides about each island and although I’d like to visit each one for a day, we’ll probably just see a couple on our way down and save the rest for on our way back.
We entered Anse du Colombier about 3:30 pm and took a mooring. The cruising guide indicated that we didn’t have to check into customs immediately as St. Bart’s only has one location and sometimes its easier to check in and out at the same time by the time you reach it.
Anse du Colombier is a nice little u-shaped bay; not crowded but not isolated either. Since we’ve arrived on the weekend, we’ll probably stay until Monday, then move over to Gustavia where we can check in and out on the same day.
Friday, April 07, 2006
Thursday, April 06, 2006
Marigot Bay, St. Martin
18.04.078N
63.05.682W
Today I sought out an internet café and spent the better part of the morning there catching up on mail, bills and blogs. Sounds simple enough but when you factor in the time that it takes to dinghy in, walk to the site, check in and wait to be authorized to connect, it’s a morning shot quicker than you can say Bill Gates.
We stopped at a bistro for a quick bite to eat before heading back to the Palace. We’ve really enjoyed the French pastries here but I truly prefer the Puerto Rican ‘water bread’ for making sandwiches.
When we arrived back at the boat, there was a message from Michelle on our satellite telephone telling us that one of our accounts wasn’t recognizing our checks. Instead of heading on to the next island, I guess this means another trip back to the internet café to see what’s going on.
18.04.078N
63.05.682W
Today I sought out an internet café and spent the better part of the morning there catching up on mail, bills and blogs. Sounds simple enough but when you factor in the time that it takes to dinghy in, walk to the site, check in and wait to be authorized to connect, it’s a morning shot quicker than you can say Bill Gates.
We stopped at a bistro for a quick bite to eat before heading back to the Palace. We’ve really enjoyed the French pastries here but I truly prefer the Puerto Rican ‘water bread’ for making sandwiches.
When we arrived back at the boat, there was a message from Michelle on our satellite telephone telling us that one of our accounts wasn’t recognizing our checks. Instead of heading on to the next island, I guess this means another trip back to the internet café to see what’s going on.
Wednesday, April 05, 2006
Marigot Bay, St. Martin
18.04.078N
63.05.682W
After reading the cruising guides and walking through town, we couldn’t see where there was anything more for us to do in our little corner of St. Martin. So, we rented a tiny car and drove around the island today.
We pulled off the main two way road and drove on a single lane road to a high peak on the island. If someone came towards you on the road, one of you had to stop and pull off for the other to pass (even with tiny little cars). When we reached the top, we walked along a foot path to a location where you could see just about the entire island of St. Martin. We could see the islands of Anguilla to the north, St. Barth’s, and Saba (island not rock) to the south in the distance.
Next, we followed the cruise guide directions to a ‘must see’ place. We drove to the end of a paved road that lead to a dirt road and when it ended, you got out and walked until you found a little restaurant on the beach. The restaurant offered more than the usual hamburger/hotdog entrees and catered to families. They had shovels and pails, swings and slides for the kids, as well as the thatched covered picnic tables or colorful umbrellas shading coordinated lounges for the adults. The guide had listed it as one of the author‘s favorite places. I’m glad we searched it out; good food and not too crowded.
Our next stop was at a butterfly farm. It consisted of a huge garden made up of butterflies’ favorite plants and flowers enclosed with netting to keep the butterflies in and the lizards, frogs, snakes & birds out. There were koi ponds with little bridges and feeding stations where fruit was laid out for the butterflies to drink. We listened to a short talk about how the farm came into existence and the care, feeding and habits of butterflies, snapped a few hundred pictures, then jumped back into our little car and continued our circumnavigation of St. Martin.
We continued around the Dutch side, observed 5 cruise ships docked at their piers and stopped at a marina where the big boys stay. Remember when I told you about the Atlantis Marina in Nassau? La Palapa is St. Martin’s version. At least this time we didn’t embarrass ourselves by pulling in and being the littlest boat in the marina. We walked the docks with Dale saying “look at the size of those winches” every couple of slips. (Winch envy is really very scary.)
Eventually, we ended up where we started from, with a side trip to a hammock shop Dale had seen when we first started our trip. He doesn’t like my hammock, so now he has one of his own that won’t leave diamond patterns on his delicate skin. He has it strung between the roller furling and the mast where he can lie up there and dream of big, grease guzzling winches to his heart‘s content.
18.04.078N
63.05.682W
After reading the cruising guides and walking through town, we couldn’t see where there was anything more for us to do in our little corner of St. Martin. So, we rented a tiny car and drove around the island today.
We pulled off the main two way road and drove on a single lane road to a high peak on the island. If someone came towards you on the road, one of you had to stop and pull off for the other to pass (even with tiny little cars). When we reached the top, we walked along a foot path to a location where you could see just about the entire island of St. Martin. We could see the islands of Anguilla to the north, St. Barth’s, and Saba (island not rock) to the south in the distance.
Next, we followed the cruise guide directions to a ‘must see’ place. We drove to the end of a paved road that lead to a dirt road and when it ended, you got out and walked until you found a little restaurant on the beach. The restaurant offered more than the usual hamburger/hotdog entrees and catered to families. They had shovels and pails, swings and slides for the kids, as well as the thatched covered picnic tables or colorful umbrellas shading coordinated lounges for the adults. The guide had listed it as one of the author‘s favorite places. I’m glad we searched it out; good food and not too crowded.
Our next stop was at a butterfly farm. It consisted of a huge garden made up of butterflies’ favorite plants and flowers enclosed with netting to keep the butterflies in and the lizards, frogs, snakes & birds out. There were koi ponds with little bridges and feeding stations where fruit was laid out for the butterflies to drink. We listened to a short talk about how the farm came into existence and the care, feeding and habits of butterflies, snapped a few hundred pictures, then jumped back into our little car and continued our circumnavigation of St. Martin.
We continued around the Dutch side, observed 5 cruise ships docked at their piers and stopped at a marina where the big boys stay. Remember when I told you about the Atlantis Marina in Nassau? La Palapa is St. Martin’s version. At least this time we didn’t embarrass ourselves by pulling in and being the littlest boat in the marina. We walked the docks with Dale saying “look at the size of those winches” every couple of slips. (Winch envy is really very scary.)
Eventually, we ended up where we started from, with a side trip to a hammock shop Dale had seen when we first started our trip. He doesn’t like my hammock, so now he has one of his own that won’t leave diamond patterns on his delicate skin. He has it strung between the roller furling and the mast where he can lie up there and dream of big, grease guzzling winches to his heart‘s content.
Tuesday, April 04, 2006
Marigot Bay, St. Martin
18.04.078N
63.05.682W
Ahh another day in paradise. Today we climbed to the top of the hill to see Ft. Louis, a 16th century fort with commanding views of the harbor and the island of Anguilla next door. Unfortunately, I forgot to take my camera and I certainly wasn’t going to climb that hill again for the panoramic photo-op; it wasn’t far, just straight up. A hospital was built just below it. I wondered if that was to save time and money on tourists.
When we came down from our hike up the hill, we dropped by the pharmacy in town to see if I could get a refill on some medicine. I’m not sure if it was because Dale was standing right next to me explaining in physician vernacular exactly what I needed or the fact that I was sweating bullets, but there didn’t seem to be any problem in getting the refill.
We walked to a nearby corner café to sit, nibble our croissants and people watch. There was quite the mixture of personalities and an incredible diversity in colorful apparel. Some were clearly off the cruise lines that pulled into the Dutch side and bused over to the French side. Some came down from the resorts on the hillsides. Others were local. Some were Rastafarians. Some were merchants. Some were Rastafarian merchants. Some were school children in their uniforms. Some were gendarmes in their uniforms. There were cruisers like us; not local in any stretch of the imagination but not exactly pale/sunburned tourists either. The streets are narrow here and the cars, for the most part, are tiny. All of these people and cars and scooters came by that corner just so that we could see them. Amazing.
We walked through the town stopping at various stores that caught our attention and then over to where a marina was located on the interior part of the island. We chose a restaurant on the waterfront for lunch and enjoyed a wonderful meal.
On our way back to the Palace, we commented on more than one occasion that Michelle would love it here. There is a shoe store on every block with shoes in every color, decoration and heel selection known to man.
18.04.078N
63.05.682W
Ahh another day in paradise. Today we climbed to the top of the hill to see Ft. Louis, a 16th century fort with commanding views of the harbor and the island of Anguilla next door. Unfortunately, I forgot to take my camera and I certainly wasn’t going to climb that hill again for the panoramic photo-op; it wasn’t far, just straight up. A hospital was built just below it. I wondered if that was to save time and money on tourists.
When we came down from our hike up the hill, we dropped by the pharmacy in town to see if I could get a refill on some medicine. I’m not sure if it was because Dale was standing right next to me explaining in physician vernacular exactly what I needed or the fact that I was sweating bullets, but there didn’t seem to be any problem in getting the refill.
We walked to a nearby corner café to sit, nibble our croissants and people watch. There was quite the mixture of personalities and an incredible diversity in colorful apparel. Some were clearly off the cruise lines that pulled into the Dutch side and bused over to the French side. Some came down from the resorts on the hillsides. Others were local. Some were Rastafarians. Some were merchants. Some were Rastafarian merchants. Some were school children in their uniforms. Some were gendarmes in their uniforms. There were cruisers like us; not local in any stretch of the imagination but not exactly pale/sunburned tourists either. The streets are narrow here and the cars, for the most part, are tiny. All of these people and cars and scooters came by that corner just so that we could see them. Amazing.
We walked through the town stopping at various stores that caught our attention and then over to where a marina was located on the interior part of the island. We chose a restaurant on the waterfront for lunch and enjoyed a wonderful meal.
On our way back to the Palace, we commented on more than one occasion that Michelle would love it here. There is a shoe store on every block with shoes in every color, decoration and heel selection known to man.
Monday, April 03, 2006
Marigot Bay, St. Martin
18.04.078N
63.05.682W
We arrived in St. Martin’s waters about 3:30 am sailing most of the way at 6 and 7 kts. I say most of the way because when we came to within 8 miles of our waypoint, we decided to do zigzags to kill some time; we aren‘t particularly fond of entering an unfamiliar harbor after dark. Then when the wind died, we turned on the engine pointed the Palace in the direction of the current and motored at 2 knots, not going anywhere.
When Dale came on watch at 5 am, he increased our speed to about 4 knots and we slowly crept into Margot Bay, the French side of St. Martin. As day broke, we turned and entered the harbor, found the nearest shallow spot and dropped our hook.
As luck would have it, the boat closest to us had an anchor Nazi on board who came out in her underwear and assumed the universal ‘I’m not happy’ pose (hands on hips, scowling in the direction of the offending party). Unfortunately, what she met was another ‘hands on hips’ person who desperately needed some shuteye. I shouted over to her that we only needed some sleep. I don’t know who was more surprised, Dale or me. I’m not usually the confrontational type.
In any event, we didn’t move the boat but dove for our pillows. Dale slept topside just in case we did swing closer in their direction than we had allowed for. I went to bed. About 3 hours later, we got up and moved the boat closer into the town and re-anchored.
We took the dinghy in to clear customs (conveniently located at the dinghy dock). Wahoo!! It didn’t cost anything; just the customary paperwork. Neat trash bins lined the street in front of the dinghy dock; more French restaurants than you can shake a fork at within walking distance; grocery stores, laundries and pharmacies all within a couple of blocks; this is a boaters heaven.
We spotted a restaurant a little off the street with a sign declaring it as a new enterprise. We climbed up the steps to see what they had to offer and stayed for lunch. The food was wonderful and, unlike the reputation of French restaurants in the States, plentiful.
For some crazy reason, we were still tired, so we headed back to the Palace for another nap and will save our sight seeing for another day.
18.04.078N
63.05.682W
We arrived in St. Martin’s waters about 3:30 am sailing most of the way at 6 and 7 kts. I say most of the way because when we came to within 8 miles of our waypoint, we decided to do zigzags to kill some time; we aren‘t particularly fond of entering an unfamiliar harbor after dark. Then when the wind died, we turned on the engine pointed the Palace in the direction of the current and motored at 2 knots, not going anywhere.
When Dale came on watch at 5 am, he increased our speed to about 4 knots and we slowly crept into Margot Bay, the French side of St. Martin. As day broke, we turned and entered the harbor, found the nearest shallow spot and dropped our hook.
As luck would have it, the boat closest to us had an anchor Nazi on board who came out in her underwear and assumed the universal ‘I’m not happy’ pose (hands on hips, scowling in the direction of the offending party). Unfortunately, what she met was another ‘hands on hips’ person who desperately needed some shuteye. I shouted over to her that we only needed some sleep. I don’t know who was more surprised, Dale or me. I’m not usually the confrontational type.
In any event, we didn’t move the boat but dove for our pillows. Dale slept topside just in case we did swing closer in their direction than we had allowed for. I went to bed. About 3 hours later, we got up and moved the boat closer into the town and re-anchored.
We took the dinghy in to clear customs (conveniently located at the dinghy dock). Wahoo!! It didn’t cost anything; just the customary paperwork. Neat trash bins lined the street in front of the dinghy dock; more French restaurants than you can shake a fork at within walking distance; grocery stores, laundries and pharmacies all within a couple of blocks; this is a boaters heaven.
We spotted a restaurant a little off the street with a sign declaring it as a new enterprise. We climbed up the steps to see what they had to offer and stayed for lunch. The food was wonderful and, unlike the reputation of French restaurants in the States, plentiful.
For some crazy reason, we were still tired, so we headed back to the Palace for another nap and will save our sight seeing for another day.
Sunday, April 02, 2006
Anegada Passage
18.13.372N
63.39.005W
We tried to sleep in this morning in anticipation of our crossing but instead, we arose early and kept ourselves busy by reading the cruising guides for St. Martin and becoming familiar with the charts of the area. Since I was able to access the internet from the boat, I took advantage of the service one more time.
Later, while we were sitting in the cockpit reading, a couple of boats caught our attention. They were crisscrossing each other and at first seemed to be racing for a point somewhere near us. When they came within feet of us, we really took notice. That‘s about the time we figured out that it was a group of charter boaters learning how to sail in 1 easy lesson. A group of three boats, 2 catamarans and one monohull, all of which were in the 36-40’ range, were being wrangled by one instructor on a radio zipping forwards and backwards; coming within inches of them himself in the boat he was on.
First, they all appeared to be trying to snare mooring balls. They would run over them, back over them, drift down over them; how they kept from fouling their props, I’ll never know. Next they were transferring people back and forth from one boat to the next. For the life of us, Dale and I never could figure out the purpose of that exercise. They were still in the midst of their careening all over the harbor, when it came time for Dale and I to leave. We never got to see the man over board drill, which probably would have been worth sticking around for.
Don’t get me wrong, Dale and I have chartered boats too; some of our best friends charter boats. However, I liken it to driving on a crowded street with a car that has “student driver” signs pasted all over it but only one person in the car. Chances are it’s the instructor at the wheel but you still have a tendency to keep an eye on it.
In any event, when it was time for us to leave, we dropped our mooring and scooted out between Saba Rock and Virgin Gorda before the sailing class came in our direction again. There’s a shallow, narrow passage between the two islands and an opening in the reef further out that saved us about an hour in transit time.
Once we cleared the reef, we turned toward St. Martin, unfurled our sails, set a course and have sailed the whole way doing between 6 and 7.5 kts. This is what I enjoy. The beautiful water, a steady breeze, slow swells that gently lift you up and down, the only clouds are too high to pose a threat; what can I say? Another day in paradise.
18.13.372N
63.39.005W
We tried to sleep in this morning in anticipation of our crossing but instead, we arose early and kept ourselves busy by reading the cruising guides for St. Martin and becoming familiar with the charts of the area. Since I was able to access the internet from the boat, I took advantage of the service one more time.
Later, while we were sitting in the cockpit reading, a couple of boats caught our attention. They were crisscrossing each other and at first seemed to be racing for a point somewhere near us. When they came within feet of us, we really took notice. That‘s about the time we figured out that it was a group of charter boaters learning how to sail in 1 easy lesson. A group of three boats, 2 catamarans and one monohull, all of which were in the 36-40’ range, were being wrangled by one instructor on a radio zipping forwards and backwards; coming within inches of them himself in the boat he was on.
First, they all appeared to be trying to snare mooring balls. They would run over them, back over them, drift down over them; how they kept from fouling their props, I’ll never know. Next they were transferring people back and forth from one boat to the next. For the life of us, Dale and I never could figure out the purpose of that exercise. They were still in the midst of their careening all over the harbor, when it came time for Dale and I to leave. We never got to see the man over board drill, which probably would have been worth sticking around for.
Don’t get me wrong, Dale and I have chartered boats too; some of our best friends charter boats. However, I liken it to driving on a crowded street with a car that has “student driver” signs pasted all over it but only one person in the car. Chances are it’s the instructor at the wheel but you still have a tendency to keep an eye on it.
In any event, when it was time for us to leave, we dropped our mooring and scooted out between Saba Rock and Virgin Gorda before the sailing class came in our direction again. There’s a shallow, narrow passage between the two islands and an opening in the reef further out that saved us about an hour in transit time.
Once we cleared the reef, we turned toward St. Martin, unfurled our sails, set a course and have sailed the whole way doing between 6 and 7.5 kts. This is what I enjoy. The beautiful water, a steady breeze, slow swells that gently lift you up and down, the only clouds are too high to pose a threat; what can I say? Another day in paradise.
Virgin Gorda, BVI
Bitter End
18.30.092N
64.21.589W
Happy Birthday Valerie! We love you.
Happy 50th Gerry! We love you too but Valerie is cuter.
Today we sailed! Actually, we raced but the two boats we were competing against didn’t know it.
We left Trellis Bay about 9:30 am and once out into the channel, we unfurled the sails and turned off the engine. We only had about 15 miles to travel, so it didn’t matter if it took us all day. As it turned out, the light winds filled in and we had a nice sail for most of the trip.
We slowed to a crawl as we rounded Virgin Gorda to the north where the mountains shielded us from the wind but then our speed picked up again when we came from behind the mountain to get the first gusts of a squall developing.
We had originally thought that we would anchor at the Bitter End Yacht Club but with the skies darkening we changed our minds and took a mooring. The bar that had been located on Saba Rock, the tiny island next to the Yacht Club, has expanded to include a restaurant, hotel and gift shop and has a nice dinghy dock running the breadth of the front. The Yacht Club itself appears to have expanded a bit but still looks pretty much the same as it did 12 years ago with the exception of an expanded dinghy dock and the nurse sharks in the pen are quite a bit smaller. We visited both establishments to explore a little and then returned to the Palace before the rain came.
We only caught bits and pieces of the weather information on the single side band this morning but we caught the information that the weather is pretty unsettled for the next week. Light winds except in the slow moving squalls where the wind gusts can be pretty extreme.
This evening as I sit here, the wind is howling; 20 kts with gusts up to 30 kts. The rain moved through more quickly than I thought it would but the gusts have continued for a couple of hours now. I’m glad we not out in it.
We watched as a sailboat came in after dark in the midst of the wind and rain and tried several times before they were able to snag a mooring. We guessed that there were probably only 2 people on board, like us, and that the one on the foredeck was juggling a flashlight, a boathook, a mooring line and trying to direct the helmsman which way to steer in the gusting winds. They were not having fun. We empathized with them greatly.
We’ll download the weather tomorrow before we make our decision as to whether we’ll take off tomorrow afternoon for St. Martin or sit here for another couple of days.
As always, wish us luck and good weather!
Bitter End
18.30.092N
64.21.589W
Happy Birthday Valerie! We love you.
Happy 50th Gerry! We love you too but Valerie is cuter.
Today we sailed! Actually, we raced but the two boats we were competing against didn’t know it.
We left Trellis Bay about 9:30 am and once out into the channel, we unfurled the sails and turned off the engine. We only had about 15 miles to travel, so it didn’t matter if it took us all day. As it turned out, the light winds filled in and we had a nice sail for most of the trip.
We slowed to a crawl as we rounded Virgin Gorda to the north where the mountains shielded us from the wind but then our speed picked up again when we came from behind the mountain to get the first gusts of a squall developing.
We had originally thought that we would anchor at the Bitter End Yacht Club but with the skies darkening we changed our minds and took a mooring. The bar that had been located on Saba Rock, the tiny island next to the Yacht Club, has expanded to include a restaurant, hotel and gift shop and has a nice dinghy dock running the breadth of the front. The Yacht Club itself appears to have expanded a bit but still looks pretty much the same as it did 12 years ago with the exception of an expanded dinghy dock and the nurse sharks in the pen are quite a bit smaller. We visited both establishments to explore a little and then returned to the Palace before the rain came.
We only caught bits and pieces of the weather information on the single side band this morning but we caught the information that the weather is pretty unsettled for the next week. Light winds except in the slow moving squalls where the wind gusts can be pretty extreme.
This evening as I sit here, the wind is howling; 20 kts with gusts up to 30 kts. The rain moved through more quickly than I thought it would but the gusts have continued for a couple of hours now. I’m glad we not out in it.
We watched as a sailboat came in after dark in the midst of the wind and rain and tried several times before they were able to snag a mooring. We guessed that there were probably only 2 people on board, like us, and that the one on the foredeck was juggling a flashlight, a boathook, a mooring line and trying to direct the helmsman which way to steer in the gusting winds. They were not having fun. We empathized with them greatly.
We’ll download the weather tomorrow before we make our decision as to whether we’ll take off tomorrow afternoon for St. Martin or sit here for another couple of days.
As always, wish us luck and good weather!
Saturday, April 01, 2006
Beef Island, BVI
Trellis Bay
18.26.848N
64.31.891W
After a leisurely breakfast, we hoisted our anchor and left Charlotte Amalie Harbor and eased our way out into the ocean. We tried to radio Gate and Darby on Nicolino but no one answered. Dale made a quick check to make sure the dripless seal was still dripless and then off we went.
The winds were light, so we were forced to motor all of the way to Beef Island. Once into the Sir Francis Drake Channel, the wind picked up a bit and we were able to unfurl our jib to add another knot to our speed. At one point, we were making about 9 kts. over the ground in the relatively flat seas. We weren’t really sailing but I enjoyed our transit in the sunshine where we passed two “races”. One with spinnakers (the big colorful sails) and the other was with little day sailers.
We pulled into Trellis Bay about 2 pm and easily found a mooring ball. I was entertained throughout the remainder of the day by a hawksbill turtle who would poke his head out of the water to give us a cross eyed look. I snapped a picture of him during one of his circles around us and wondered which one of us was on display.
Several young boys on the charter boat next to us caught a small shark on their fishing line. They brought it up to the back of their boat, called for a camera, posed with it and then released it back into the harbor.
When dusk fell, we went in for dinner at The Last Resort and met Dave and Joanne who were chartering for the first time in the BVI’s. Though we sat at different tables, we enjoyed a conversation with them throughout the evening.
Tomorrow we’ll make our way to the Bitter End in Virgin Gorda where we’ll wait for a weather window to make an overnight crossing to St. Martin.
Trellis Bay
18.26.848N
64.31.891W
After a leisurely breakfast, we hoisted our anchor and left Charlotte Amalie Harbor and eased our way out into the ocean. We tried to radio Gate and Darby on Nicolino but no one answered. Dale made a quick check to make sure the dripless seal was still dripless and then off we went.
The winds were light, so we were forced to motor all of the way to Beef Island. Once into the Sir Francis Drake Channel, the wind picked up a bit and we were able to unfurl our jib to add another knot to our speed. At one point, we were making about 9 kts. over the ground in the relatively flat seas. We weren’t really sailing but I enjoyed our transit in the sunshine where we passed two “races”. One with spinnakers (the big colorful sails) and the other was with little day sailers.
We pulled into Trellis Bay about 2 pm and easily found a mooring ball. I was entertained throughout the remainder of the day by a hawksbill turtle who would poke his head out of the water to give us a cross eyed look. I snapped a picture of him during one of his circles around us and wondered which one of us was on display.
Several young boys on the charter boat next to us caught a small shark on their fishing line. They brought it up to the back of their boat, called for a camera, posed with it and then released it back into the harbor.
When dusk fell, we went in for dinner at The Last Resort and met Dave and Joanne who were chartering for the first time in the BVI’s. Though we sat at different tables, we enjoyed a conversation with them throughout the evening.
Tomorrow we’ll make our way to the Bitter End in Virgin Gorda where we’ll wait for a weather window to make an overnight crossing to St. Martin.
Thursday, March 30, 2006
St. Thomas, USVI
18.20.250N
64.55.584W
There are several phrases that I really don’t want to hear during our Sabbatical and one of them is ‘we’re taking on water’.
The day started as planned. I had pedaled my way to the bowling alley to renew our Florida registrations and see if the insurance company had acknowledged receiving our survey and then returned to the marina. During that time, Dale had loaded the remaining items out of the dock box, his bicycle and had washed, dried and folded the last of the laundry (what a guy!). We loaded my bicycle and then backed out of our slip and moved to the fuel dock where we pumped as much fuel into our tanks and jerry cans as the Palace would hold. We spoke at length with the base CO, who had come down to wish us well on our trip, about the fate of Roosey . Then about noon, we radio harbor control and eased our way out of the harbor that will always be dear to us.
We passed through some rain sqalls but no thunder or lightening associated with them. Dale and I both noticed on separate occasions that the bilge pump would cycle emptying a good amount of water but with the rain, dismissed it.
By the time we had reached the end of Vieques a couple of hours later, the rain had passed and sunshine ruled the rest of the day. However, the bilge pump kept cycling. By the time we reached St. Thomas, Dale had become concerned and went down to take a look. That’s when I heard “we’re taking on water”. I mentally told myself not to panic.
Dale checked the usual culprits, the watermaker hose, loose strainers, etc. and came back that the dripless seal on the shaft was leaking, significantly but the bilge pump was keeping it in check. Since it was already a little after 5pm, it was more important to get into Charlotte Amalie and anchor rather than stop to attempt a repair. Needless to say, I didn’t slow the boat until we were well inside the entrance. With both the sail and the motor, we were traveling in excess of 7 kts at times.
We saw Nicolino anchored nearby and try to radio them. No response. We waved to Gate who was sitting on the back but he didn’t seem to understand that we were trying to radio him. We kept going.
We crept through the narrow and shallow Haulover cut and dodged a taxiing sea plane making its way to its hanger. We were somewhat surprised when we rounded the turn into Charlotte Amalie to see all of the boats pointed south towards the main channel, instead of the usual north or east. We wound our way though the anchored boats and dropped our hook in our favorite area.
Dale no sooner had the anchor set, when he went below to raid his tool box and disappeared into our aft stateroom. A few minutes later he came out to say that the leak had been stymied. He sopped up the remaining water and returned his tools to their home in the big red box in the front stateroom.
I think that I’ve said this before: I wouldn’t be out here if I didn’t have confidence in Dale’s abilities and I will never complain about the amount of tools he has on board. He saved the day.
18.20.250N
64.55.584W
There are several phrases that I really don’t want to hear during our Sabbatical and one of them is ‘we’re taking on water’.
The day started as planned. I had pedaled my way to the bowling alley to renew our Florida registrations and see if the insurance company had acknowledged receiving our survey and then returned to the marina. During that time, Dale had loaded the remaining items out of the dock box, his bicycle and had washed, dried and folded the last of the laundry (what a guy!). We loaded my bicycle and then backed out of our slip and moved to the fuel dock where we pumped as much fuel into our tanks and jerry cans as the Palace would hold. We spoke at length with the base CO, who had come down to wish us well on our trip, about the fate of Roosey . Then about noon, we radio harbor control and eased our way out of the harbor that will always be dear to us.
We passed through some rain sqalls but no thunder or lightening associated with them. Dale and I both noticed on separate occasions that the bilge pump would cycle emptying a good amount of water but with the rain, dismissed it.
By the time we had reached the end of Vieques a couple of hours later, the rain had passed and sunshine ruled the rest of the day. However, the bilge pump kept cycling. By the time we reached St. Thomas, Dale had become concerned and went down to take a look. That’s when I heard “we’re taking on water”. I mentally told myself not to panic.
Dale checked the usual culprits, the watermaker hose, loose strainers, etc. and came back that the dripless seal on the shaft was leaking, significantly but the bilge pump was keeping it in check. Since it was already a little after 5pm, it was more important to get into Charlotte Amalie and anchor rather than stop to attempt a repair. Needless to say, I didn’t slow the boat until we were well inside the entrance. With both the sail and the motor, we were traveling in excess of 7 kts at times.
We saw Nicolino anchored nearby and try to radio them. No response. We waved to Gate who was sitting on the back but he didn’t seem to understand that we were trying to radio him. We kept going.
We crept through the narrow and shallow Haulover cut and dodged a taxiing sea plane making its way to its hanger. We were somewhat surprised when we rounded the turn into Charlotte Amalie to see all of the boats pointed south towards the main channel, instead of the usual north or east. We wound our way though the anchored boats and dropped our hook in our favorite area.
Dale no sooner had the anchor set, when he went below to raid his tool box and disappeared into our aft stateroom. A few minutes later he came out to say that the leak had been stymied. He sopped up the remaining water and returned his tools to their home in the big red box in the front stateroom.
I think that I’ve said this before: I wouldn’t be out here if I didn’t have confidence in Dale’s abilities and I will never complain about the amount of tools he has on board. He saved the day.
Wednesday, March 29, 2006
Roosey Roads, PR
18.14.009N
65.37.581W
I’m sure you can tell by now that I love my computer. It’s a complex toy that I enjoy playing with. When it works. When it doesn’t work and I know that it’s operator error, it can be the most frustrating piece of hardware on earth.
For example, when we received an e-mail from our insurance company indicating that they wanted a recent survey on our boat before renewing our policy, it should have been a simple act of scanning a copy of the one we had done last fall (thank God and Jim Campbell) and e-mailing it back to them. Except that when I connected my new HP laptop to my old HP printer, the computer wouldn’t recognize that I had connected it. What a pain in the patoot!
Since we hadn’t brought along the CD containing the printer drivers that came with the old printer, we had to pack both the laptop and the printer into backpacks and schlep them into the bowling alley to connect both of them to the internet to download the software. Even that was more problematic than it should have been. The long (an hour for the download) and the short (Dale’s temper by the time we were completely done) of it, is that once the laptop and printer were happily clicking in the same direction, I was able to scan the document and forward it on to our insurance company (another hour of uploading the information). The things we do to keep that particular industry happy.
With the morning completely gone, we started our trek back to the boat. Along the way, the base CO spotted us and flagged us down to tell us that the package we had been waiting for was in his office. It had been mis-delivered (since it was clearly addressed to the marina) a few days before.
We quickly went through it and found 3 of our 5 Florida registration renewals; one of them was for the Palace, so I’ll be heading back to the bowling alley for one more connection before we leave. As I started out, when my computer and I are working as a cohesive unit, you can hardly tell that we’re out of the country. However, when there is a break in communication between my computer and its operator, I can tell that we are in the farthest reaches of the world without Cherie and the IT crew to back me up.
18.14.009N
65.37.581W
I’m sure you can tell by now that I love my computer. It’s a complex toy that I enjoy playing with. When it works. When it doesn’t work and I know that it’s operator error, it can be the most frustrating piece of hardware on earth.
For example, when we received an e-mail from our insurance company indicating that they wanted a recent survey on our boat before renewing our policy, it should have been a simple act of scanning a copy of the one we had done last fall (thank God and Jim Campbell) and e-mailing it back to them. Except that when I connected my new HP laptop to my old HP printer, the computer wouldn’t recognize that I had connected it. What a pain in the patoot!
Since we hadn’t brought along the CD containing the printer drivers that came with the old printer, we had to pack both the laptop and the printer into backpacks and schlep them into the bowling alley to connect both of them to the internet to download the software. Even that was more problematic than it should have been. The long (an hour for the download) and the short (Dale’s temper by the time we were completely done) of it, is that once the laptop and printer were happily clicking in the same direction, I was able to scan the document and forward it on to our insurance company (another hour of uploading the information). The things we do to keep that particular industry happy.
With the morning completely gone, we started our trek back to the boat. Along the way, the base CO spotted us and flagged us down to tell us that the package we had been waiting for was in his office. It had been mis-delivered (since it was clearly addressed to the marina) a few days before.
We quickly went through it and found 3 of our 5 Florida registration renewals; one of them was for the Palace, so I’ll be heading back to the bowling alley for one more connection before we leave. As I started out, when my computer and I are working as a cohesive unit, you can hardly tell that we’re out of the country. However, when there is a break in communication between my computer and its operator, I can tell that we are in the farthest reaches of the world without Cherie and the IT crew to back me up.
Tuesday, March 28, 2006
Roosey Roads, PR
18.14.009N
65.37.581W
There was still no mail for us today, so we pedaled our way to the Bowling Alley and uploaded the blog posts, made sure our bills were paid and answered our e-mails. The rest of the day we spent rearranging book shelves and cupboards. Unfortunately, this makes for a boring entry.
We did finally hear from Rainbow Rider. They made it to Luperon, DR. At this rate, we won’t see them until we make the turn to come back. I guess that’s better than not seeing them at all.
18.14.009N
65.37.581W
There was still no mail for us today, so we pedaled our way to the Bowling Alley and uploaded the blog posts, made sure our bills were paid and answered our e-mails. The rest of the day we spent rearranging book shelves and cupboards. Unfortunately, this makes for a boring entry.
We did finally hear from Rainbow Rider. They made it to Luperon, DR. At this rate, we won’t see them until we make the turn to come back. I guess that’s better than not seeing them at all.
Monday, March 27, 2006
Roosey Roads, PR
18.14.009N
65.37.581W
We spent most of Sunday, returning the items removed from our guest berthing area back to where they belonged and vacuum sealed my larger purchases into smaller ones for storage. I even pre-baked several 2 person meatloaves for freezing, saving one for dinner. We repackaged anything that originally came in cardboard into plastic and then swept, mopped and shook all of the rugs. We’ll give the Palace a thorough cleaning, inside and out, before we take off.
This morning, as is our usual habit before we undertake a big crossing, we started listening to the weather. This time we were waiting for information on crossing the Anegada Passage. We had hoped to cross either tomorrow or Wednesday depending upon when we received our mail. Unfortunately, our mail didn’t come today and as of tomorrow, the weather is predicted to deteriorate with the seas picking up to over 9’ in the Passage. It’s not anticipated to calm down until the weekend, so we slowed our pace and ended up reading for most of the day.
However, this afternoon, earlier than forecast, the wind picked up. With any kind of luck the front will move through more quickly than predicted. We’ll pick up our pace again tomorrow and once we get our mail, we’ll move on to the Virgin Islands to wait for the first opportunity to cross from there.
We’ve really enjoyed our time back at Roosey and look forward to returning here next year on our way back home. Hopefully, it will still be open.
18.14.009N
65.37.581W
We spent most of Sunday, returning the items removed from our guest berthing area back to where they belonged and vacuum sealed my larger purchases into smaller ones for storage. I even pre-baked several 2 person meatloaves for freezing, saving one for dinner. We repackaged anything that originally came in cardboard into plastic and then swept, mopped and shook all of the rugs. We’ll give the Palace a thorough cleaning, inside and out, before we take off.
This morning, as is our usual habit before we undertake a big crossing, we started listening to the weather. This time we were waiting for information on crossing the Anegada Passage. We had hoped to cross either tomorrow or Wednesday depending upon when we received our mail. Unfortunately, our mail didn’t come today and as of tomorrow, the weather is predicted to deteriorate with the seas picking up to over 9’ in the Passage. It’s not anticipated to calm down until the weekend, so we slowed our pace and ended up reading for most of the day.
However, this afternoon, earlier than forecast, the wind picked up. With any kind of luck the front will move through more quickly than predicted. We’ll pick up our pace again tomorrow and once we get our mail, we’ll move on to the Virgin Islands to wait for the first opportunity to cross from there.
We’ve really enjoyed our time back at Roosey and look forward to returning here next year on our way back home. Hopefully, it will still be open.
Saturday, March 25, 2006
Roosey Roads, PR
18.14.009N
65.37.581W
Too soon, Michelle is leaving. Spring break is over and we were delighted that she wanted to spend it with us. She seemed to have enjoyed herself just floating in the water or reading a novel as opposed to the text books she been pouring over for the last couple of semesters.
On her last day here, we decided that we would indeed start heading south shortly after she left. Since we had rented a car to take her back to the airport, she was kind enough to go provisioning shopping with me before her departure which included buying some things in bulk and yet others in as small of a container as we could find. She helped load and then unload all of my giant purchases of toilet paper and paper towels and helped bag and contain all of my little jars and cans of this and that.
We headed back to the Palace and set up a bucket brigade of unloading the cart from me on the dock, to her in the cockpit and then to Dale down in the salon. We hastily put those items that needed refrigeration into an ice chest, placed a couple of bags of ice on top, and then loaded the car with her bags to head to the airport.
We stopped for a bite to eat on our way and then kissed her goodbye at the airport. There would be no place to sit and watch the planes take off for us this time. Probably for the best, it was hard enough saying goodbye to our friends, this time it was our daughter.
The drive back was pretty much in silence. We stopped by a hardware store to pick up some more bungee cords (you can never have too many) with our minds already checking off the things that needed to be accomplished before we left.
I had mentioned to Dale that I should probably get a hair cut before we left. He had seen a hair salon near the base so we stopped to see what their hours were. Lucky for me, the proprietress was there and offered to cut my hair right then. She did a great job. As of this date, my hair is officially shorter than Dale’s. Any day now he will sport the pony tail he’s contemplated since the 70’s, not an easy thing to do with the curly hair as he has.
18.14.009N
65.37.581W
Too soon, Michelle is leaving. Spring break is over and we were delighted that she wanted to spend it with us. She seemed to have enjoyed herself just floating in the water or reading a novel as opposed to the text books she been pouring over for the last couple of semesters.
On her last day here, we decided that we would indeed start heading south shortly after she left. Since we had rented a car to take her back to the airport, she was kind enough to go provisioning shopping with me before her departure which included buying some things in bulk and yet others in as small of a container as we could find. She helped load and then unload all of my giant purchases of toilet paper and paper towels and helped bag and contain all of my little jars and cans of this and that.
We headed back to the Palace and set up a bucket brigade of unloading the cart from me on the dock, to her in the cockpit and then to Dale down in the salon. We hastily put those items that needed refrigeration into an ice chest, placed a couple of bags of ice on top, and then loaded the car with her bags to head to the airport.
We stopped for a bite to eat on our way and then kissed her goodbye at the airport. There would be no place to sit and watch the planes take off for us this time. Probably for the best, it was hard enough saying goodbye to our friends, this time it was our daughter.
The drive back was pretty much in silence. We stopped by a hardware store to pick up some more bungee cords (you can never have too many) with our minds already checking off the things that needed to be accomplished before we left.
I had mentioned to Dale that I should probably get a hair cut before we left. He had seen a hair salon near the base so we stopped to see what their hours were. Lucky for me, the proprietress was there and offered to cut my hair right then. She did a great job. As of this date, my hair is officially shorter than Dale’s. Any day now he will sport the pony tail he’s contemplated since the 70’s, not an easy thing to do with the curly hair as he has.
Friday, March 24, 2006
Culebrita, PR
18 19.173N
65.13.699W
As we approached Culebrita on Wednesday, Dale and I recognized Nicolino (a sistership to the Palace,) sailed by Gate & Darby, whom we had met in Luperon. We hailed them and told them that we were planning on mooring in the harbor beyond where they were anchored and promised to catch up with them in the Virgins next week.
Michelle recognized the harbor we entered and we sat reminiscing about our adventures here 12 years ago. You see, the first time we ever anchored in this harbor, it was after a rain squall had broken our genoa halyard. In the pitching seas, standing on the pulpit, Dale had done his best to jury rig the sail but the pitching and rolling was more than he could take.
In order to be better able to help Dale sail our first boat, Michelle (about 16 at the time) and I had just finished our basic sailing course and passed the test to get our skipper‘s card. We were pretty proud of those little cards but that particular rain squall put us to the test more than any pencil, paper, or trial runs ever could. Before going down to hit the rack, he pointed to the closest island, showed us which harbor to go into on a chart and asked us to take us in. We did. In fact, we only woke him to help us anchor. I guess that’s when Dale’s dream of cruising became more of a reality; when I realized that I could sail the boat too and would have some control of my own fate at sea.
Yesterday of course, was a gorgeous day and the most we’d be tested this time would be how much sun block we could use in a single afternoon.
On Thursday, Dale decided that not only was he going to work on the macerator pump again but that he was going to make a better repair to the rub rail that had been damaged in a storm several years ago. He pried the rub rail off with a screwdriver, cleaned the old caulking off with a knife, applied some new adhesive, hammered it on with a rubber mallet, and slipped a couple of ropes completely around the boat sandwiching the fender board over the repair and then twisted the ropes into a tourniquet holding the fender board in place over the repair. My assistance in this matter was limited to handing him whatever tool was needed when required and tidying up the repair with “GooGone” when he was done. I swear I’d make a good nurse.
Next, he moved to the macerator pump and poo tank. I handed him some latex gloves and moved to the farthest reaches of the boat and read silently; Michelle went swimming; trying to keep most of her body underwater and away from the sun.
When Dale emerged, snapping his gloves off and tossing them into the garbage, he declared that he had done what he could for the patient and that we would have to wait and see if it would work. He pushed the button for a quick check. A small dark cloud emerged from under the boat; Michelle screamed that we should have warned her and paddled her inner tube up current towards the beach and away from the discolored water as fast as she could. At first blush, it appeared to be working. We all went snorkeling and hoped for the best.
On Friday, he removed the tourniquet from the rub rail; the repair looked good and seemed to be holding. After allowing me to finish my book (remember the back of the boat?) we hoisted anchor and when we reached the proper distance from shore, we pushed the button and held our breath. Thank heavens, the gauge indicated that the tank was emptying. We put some disinfectant into it and sealed it up. We’re now ready for anyone else who might want to visit.
In the meantime, do you recall that I told you Dale and I had taught Michelle how to play Mexican Dominos? She loved it! In fact, she wanted to play it every night she was here. She was pretty dang good at it too! Be careful if she tries to get you to play a game with her, she’s a bit of a ringer now.
18 19.173N
65.13.699W
As we approached Culebrita on Wednesday, Dale and I recognized Nicolino (a sistership to the Palace,) sailed by Gate & Darby, whom we had met in Luperon. We hailed them and told them that we were planning on mooring in the harbor beyond where they were anchored and promised to catch up with them in the Virgins next week.
Michelle recognized the harbor we entered and we sat reminiscing about our adventures here 12 years ago. You see, the first time we ever anchored in this harbor, it was after a rain squall had broken our genoa halyard. In the pitching seas, standing on the pulpit, Dale had done his best to jury rig the sail but the pitching and rolling was more than he could take.
In order to be better able to help Dale sail our first boat, Michelle (about 16 at the time) and I had just finished our basic sailing course and passed the test to get our skipper‘s card. We were pretty proud of those little cards but that particular rain squall put us to the test more than any pencil, paper, or trial runs ever could. Before going down to hit the rack, he pointed to the closest island, showed us which harbor to go into on a chart and asked us to take us in. We did. In fact, we only woke him to help us anchor. I guess that’s when Dale’s dream of cruising became more of a reality; when I realized that I could sail the boat too and would have some control of my own fate at sea.
Yesterday of course, was a gorgeous day and the most we’d be tested this time would be how much sun block we could use in a single afternoon.
On Thursday, Dale decided that not only was he going to work on the macerator pump again but that he was going to make a better repair to the rub rail that had been damaged in a storm several years ago. He pried the rub rail off with a screwdriver, cleaned the old caulking off with a knife, applied some new adhesive, hammered it on with a rubber mallet, and slipped a couple of ropes completely around the boat sandwiching the fender board over the repair and then twisted the ropes into a tourniquet holding the fender board in place over the repair. My assistance in this matter was limited to handing him whatever tool was needed when required and tidying up the repair with “GooGone” when he was done. I swear I’d make a good nurse.
Next, he moved to the macerator pump and poo tank. I handed him some latex gloves and moved to the farthest reaches of the boat and read silently; Michelle went swimming; trying to keep most of her body underwater and away from the sun.
When Dale emerged, snapping his gloves off and tossing them into the garbage, he declared that he had done what he could for the patient and that we would have to wait and see if it would work. He pushed the button for a quick check. A small dark cloud emerged from under the boat; Michelle screamed that we should have warned her and paddled her inner tube up current towards the beach and away from the discolored water as fast as she could. At first blush, it appeared to be working. We all went snorkeling and hoped for the best.
On Friday, he removed the tourniquet from the rub rail; the repair looked good and seemed to be holding. After allowing me to finish my book (remember the back of the boat?) we hoisted anchor and when we reached the proper distance from shore, we pushed the button and held our breath. Thank heavens, the gauge indicated that the tank was emptying. We put some disinfectant into it and sealed it up. We’re now ready for anyone else who might want to visit.
In the meantime, do you recall that I told you Dale and I had taught Michelle how to play Mexican Dominos? She loved it! In fact, she wanted to play it every night she was here. She was pretty dang good at it too! Be careful if she tries to get you to play a game with her, she’s a bit of a ringer now.
Wednesday, March 22, 2006
Roosevelt Roads, PR
18.14.009N
65.37.581W
On Monday morning, I thought I would make a quick trip to the Bowling Alley to log onto the internet but ended up staying there 3 ½ hours. The connection was slow and by the time I answered all of my e-mails and updated my posts from the Virgin Islands, Dale had come looking for me fearing the worst; I’d gotten a flat tire and had to walk back in the heat, somehow finding a way to blame him for all of my misfortune.
Michelle had scoped out a seat on the back of the boat and had settled into a routine of reading, taking a quick dip and then returning to read some more.
Dale had been anxious to tear the front cabin apart as the macerator under the deck and the holding tank under the forward bunk were not cooperating when he tried to empty them; fortunately, we have a second head (toilet). Michelle and I convinced him that he should wait until the morning and we would get completely out of his way as we didn’t want to be around when poo might fly. He agreed. There is a great deal of salty language in the air when work is being done on the poo tank.
So that evening, Dale and I taught Michelle how to play the Palace’s version of Mexican Dominos. She grasped it quickly and ended up winning that night.
Tuesday morning, as promised, Michelle and I strapped our inner tubes and noodles to the bikes and headed off for the beach I remembered as having trees very near the water so that I could sit in the shade and read, while she made like a duck and bobbed around. Every once in a while she would emerge and I’d slather her back with SPF 60 sun block and she’d head back out to float around in the tube. Some things never change. I’ve been slathering her snow white skin with sun block since she was born and she’s still trying to tan it before it burns.
Since we were trying to stay out of Dale’s way, we spent a great deal of time at the deserted beach and only headed back when Michelle’s stomach started making the most unladylike noises.
When we returned, I threw some pizza in Michelle’s direction and then asked about the poo tank. It appeared to be a go. He discovered (reading the manuals) that if there are any air leaks in the tank connections or hoses, it won’t work. Exposing a couple of these leaks, he repaired them and sealed it all back up. All we needed to do now is head 3 miles away from shore and let her rip.
Today is Wednesday. I made a quicker run to the Bowling Alley for my internet fix and we are presently heading to Culebrita with the wind directly on our nose. Dale has already tried to use the macerator and unfortunately, it’s still not working. I suspect that although Michelle is nursing a nasty sun burn, on her feet and armpits of all places, we’ll be expelled from the boat again tomorrow, the front berthing area will be dismantled, and repairs will be attempted once more. It’s a dirty job and Dale has to do it.
18.14.009N
65.37.581W
On Monday morning, I thought I would make a quick trip to the Bowling Alley to log onto the internet but ended up staying there 3 ½ hours. The connection was slow and by the time I answered all of my e-mails and updated my posts from the Virgin Islands, Dale had come looking for me fearing the worst; I’d gotten a flat tire and had to walk back in the heat, somehow finding a way to blame him for all of my misfortune.
Michelle had scoped out a seat on the back of the boat and had settled into a routine of reading, taking a quick dip and then returning to read some more.
Dale had been anxious to tear the front cabin apart as the macerator under the deck and the holding tank under the forward bunk were not cooperating when he tried to empty them; fortunately, we have a second head (toilet). Michelle and I convinced him that he should wait until the morning and we would get completely out of his way as we didn’t want to be around when poo might fly. He agreed. There is a great deal of salty language in the air when work is being done on the poo tank.
So that evening, Dale and I taught Michelle how to play the Palace’s version of Mexican Dominos. She grasped it quickly and ended up winning that night.
Tuesday morning, as promised, Michelle and I strapped our inner tubes and noodles to the bikes and headed off for the beach I remembered as having trees very near the water so that I could sit in the shade and read, while she made like a duck and bobbed around. Every once in a while she would emerge and I’d slather her back with SPF 60 sun block and she’d head back out to float around in the tube. Some things never change. I’ve been slathering her snow white skin with sun block since she was born and she’s still trying to tan it before it burns.
Since we were trying to stay out of Dale’s way, we spent a great deal of time at the deserted beach and only headed back when Michelle’s stomach started making the most unladylike noises.
When we returned, I threw some pizza in Michelle’s direction and then asked about the poo tank. It appeared to be a go. He discovered (reading the manuals) that if there are any air leaks in the tank connections or hoses, it won’t work. Exposing a couple of these leaks, he repaired them and sealed it all back up. All we needed to do now is head 3 miles away from shore and let her rip.
Today is Wednesday. I made a quicker run to the Bowling Alley for my internet fix and we are presently heading to Culebrita with the wind directly on our nose. Dale has already tried to use the macerator and unfortunately, it’s still not working. I suspect that although Michelle is nursing a nasty sun burn, on her feet and armpits of all places, we’ll be expelled from the boat again tomorrow, the front berthing area will be dismantled, and repairs will be attempted once more. It’s a dirty job and Dale has to do it.
Sunday, March 19, 2006
Roosevelt Roads, PR
18.14.009N
65.37.581W
Did you know that weights for dive belts come in colors now? I’ve had mine since 1982, so I hadn’t paid much attention to them since them.
With only a slight glitch in getting the rental car, we headed off to pick up Michelle from the airport.
We stopped by Puerto del Mar and bumped into Gate off Nicolino. He and Darby had probably arrived there shortly after DocNoMore and MTNest left. He anticipated that they would be heading to the Virgin Islands this week and would more than likely spend the better part of a month in the area before moving on. We expressed our hope that we would see them again down island..
We stopped by the local Home Depot to pick up another pair of dive gloves for Dale as one of his was cast to the deep when the buckets we rinse them in took a leap off the back end last week.
Michelle arrived pretty much on time and without too much drama; except for the fact that she had gone to the wrong airport in Orlando to catch her plane. Obviously, she found the right one with time to spare.
We had a quick lunch at Fudruckers, one of Dale’s favorite hamburger joints, then sought out a dive shop to replace the dive belts and weights that had gone for a swim without their owners at the same time as his glove took a dive. It was the only time, including the day that it happened, that I mentioned, casually and in jest, that it was an expensive lesson . I never mentioned or even alluded to the fact that I had suggested securing the buckets for sea but had been advised in that manner husbands save for their wives in front of guests, that it wasn’t necessary. Not that I would remind him of any of this but since there were some bright pink weights that matched perfectly the snorkel and fins I have, I took advantage of the captive audience I had in Michelle and told her the story. With emphasis added--at just the right places--to poke some fun at him. We all had a pretty good laugh, including the shop manager.
Michelle is spending her spring break with us says that she just wants to float in water where she can see her toes for a couple of days. I think we have that covered.
18.14.009N
65.37.581W
Did you know that weights for dive belts come in colors now? I’ve had mine since 1982, so I hadn’t paid much attention to them since them.
With only a slight glitch in getting the rental car, we headed off to pick up Michelle from the airport.
We stopped by Puerto del Mar and bumped into Gate off Nicolino. He and Darby had probably arrived there shortly after DocNoMore and MTNest left. He anticipated that they would be heading to the Virgin Islands this week and would more than likely spend the better part of a month in the area before moving on. We expressed our hope that we would see them again down island..
We stopped by the local Home Depot to pick up another pair of dive gloves for Dale as one of his was cast to the deep when the buckets we rinse them in took a leap off the back end last week.
Michelle arrived pretty much on time and without too much drama; except for the fact that she had gone to the wrong airport in Orlando to catch her plane. Obviously, she found the right one with time to spare.
We had a quick lunch at Fudruckers, one of Dale’s favorite hamburger joints, then sought out a dive shop to replace the dive belts and weights that had gone for a swim without their owners at the same time as his glove took a dive. It was the only time, including the day that it happened, that I mentioned, casually and in jest, that it was an expensive lesson . I never mentioned or even alluded to the fact that I had suggested securing the buckets for sea but had been advised in that manner husbands save for their wives in front of guests, that it wasn’t necessary. Not that I would remind him of any of this but since there were some bright pink weights that matched perfectly the snorkel and fins I have, I took advantage of the captive audience I had in Michelle and told her the story. With emphasis added--at just the right places--to poke some fun at him. We all had a pretty good laugh, including the shop manager.
Michelle is spending her spring break with us says that she just wants to float in water where she can see her toes for a couple of days. I think we have that covered.
Roosevelt Roads, PR
18.14.009N
65.37.581W
We hoisted our anchor and slipped out of Charlotte Amalie at 6:30 am. We passed Calaloo bobbing silently at her anchor without a dinghy which would indicate that Rick & Connie (whom we had met in the Exumas) were elsewhere. As silently as we could, we left St. Thomas behind. The cruise liners were just arriving, so we left by the west side of Hassel Island and out through Haulover Cut.
For the longest time, the anonometer indicated double zeros but once out into the ocean, it started registering a slight breeze; we kept motoring in the calm seas. We adjusted course to skirt a tug and barge near Sail Rock. We motored past a white research vessel, more than likely on its way to the coral preserve off St. John.
Between 8 and 8:45 we listened to the SSB for DocNoMore and MTNest, periodically hailing them. We motored past the sail boat race on Culebra that Dale had originally wanted to participate in but visiting with Gerry & Nicky until Friday and picking Michelle, our daughter, up in San Juan on Sunday, was more important. We looked for Dotty II, the boat Chuck McLaughlin would have been racing on but didn’t see her.
We did pass St. Christopher on her way to St. Thomas from Roosey to pick up guests and spoke to Tom & Jordan briefly regarding their plans for heading south. For old times sake, we hailed Rainbow Rider on the radio, just in case they might be within range. No response.
The wind never did pick up to more than 6 or 7 kts. We motored the entire way back to Roosey Roads and arrived by 1:00 pm. Once we were tied up at our slip again, Dale set about scrubbing the salt off the Palace and I started getting caught up on the laundry. Tomorrow we pick up Michelle.
18.14.009N
65.37.581W
We hoisted our anchor and slipped out of Charlotte Amalie at 6:30 am. We passed Calaloo bobbing silently at her anchor without a dinghy which would indicate that Rick & Connie (whom we had met in the Exumas) were elsewhere. As silently as we could, we left St. Thomas behind. The cruise liners were just arriving, so we left by the west side of Hassel Island and out through Haulover Cut.
For the longest time, the anonometer indicated double zeros but once out into the ocean, it started registering a slight breeze; we kept motoring in the calm seas. We adjusted course to skirt a tug and barge near Sail Rock. We motored past a white research vessel, more than likely on its way to the coral preserve off St. John.
Between 8 and 8:45 we listened to the SSB for DocNoMore and MTNest, periodically hailing them. We motored past the sail boat race on Culebra that Dale had originally wanted to participate in but visiting with Gerry & Nicky until Friday and picking Michelle, our daughter, up in San Juan on Sunday, was more important. We looked for Dotty II, the boat Chuck McLaughlin would have been racing on but didn’t see her.
We did pass St. Christopher on her way to St. Thomas from Roosey to pick up guests and spoke to Tom & Jordan briefly regarding their plans for heading south. For old times sake, we hailed Rainbow Rider on the radio, just in case they might be within range. No response.
The wind never did pick up to more than 6 or 7 kts. We motored the entire way back to Roosey Roads and arrived by 1:00 pm. Once we were tied up at our slip again, Dale set about scrubbing the salt off the Palace and I started getting caught up on the laundry. Tomorrow we pick up Michelle.
Saturday, March 18, 2006
St. Thomas, USVI
18.20.236N
64.55.605W
For some crazy reason, we all were up early today. We had a leisurely breakfast before Gerry & Nicky set about packing for their return trip. We spent the rest of the morning scavenging St. Thomas harbor side for great duty free deals.
I finally got a chance to rummage through the straw market that is set up right across the street from the dinghy dock. They actually had the best deals on souvenirs throughout the Virgin Islands. We stopped by a store that specializes in Rolex watches. I believe Gerry said that the watch he had priced on the internet was $1000 cheaper here. Nicky & I found Liberty Jewelers again and each came away with a pair of ear rings. Our eyes were tantalized by the crystal fish, turtles and parrots in the House of Crystal but both of our husbands reminded us that we live in houses on water and crystal really didn’t mix well with water.
We ate lunch in a restaurant called Herve’ that was located next to the Hotel 1629. Great food at reasonable prices. We sat at a window table overlooking Charlotte Amalie Harbor and watched the boats and sea planes come and go. There were bananas growing outside another window; for some reason I get a kick out of seeing bananas hanging from their trees.
Too soon we had to make our way back to the boat to pick up Gerry & Nicky’s luggage. We sat for awhile talking in the cockpit before we had to dinghy back in to take them to the airport. It was a very quiet dinghy ride. I guess none of us really wanted to say goodbye.
Dale and I thought we would ride with them to the airport but when the Jeepney stopped, Nicky turned and gave each of us a hug and said goodbye. Gerry was next and then, they were gone. A few seconds later, I thought it would have made a good picture of them sitting in the open air taxi.
We made our way back to the Palace even more quietly than we had left. I asked Dale if he thought we would be able to sail her by ourselves again. Once we had developed a new routine, it was nice having extra sets of hands. I know for me, it was especially nice to have another female sailor onboard who could, with a simple look, assure me that she knew what I was thinking and felt the same way.
A big jet just took off from the airport, banked over the harbor and headed out across the ocean. Hopefully, it was theirs and they saw us waving farewell to them from the Palace.
18.20.236N
64.55.605W
For some crazy reason, we all were up early today. We had a leisurely breakfast before Gerry & Nicky set about packing for their return trip. We spent the rest of the morning scavenging St. Thomas harbor side for great duty free deals.
I finally got a chance to rummage through the straw market that is set up right across the street from the dinghy dock. They actually had the best deals on souvenirs throughout the Virgin Islands. We stopped by a store that specializes in Rolex watches. I believe Gerry said that the watch he had priced on the internet was $1000 cheaper here. Nicky & I found Liberty Jewelers again and each came away with a pair of ear rings. Our eyes were tantalized by the crystal fish, turtles and parrots in the House of Crystal but both of our husbands reminded us that we live in houses on water and crystal really didn’t mix well with water.
We ate lunch in a restaurant called Herve’ that was located next to the Hotel 1629. Great food at reasonable prices. We sat at a window table overlooking Charlotte Amalie Harbor and watched the boats and sea planes come and go. There were bananas growing outside another window; for some reason I get a kick out of seeing bananas hanging from their trees.
Too soon we had to make our way back to the boat to pick up Gerry & Nicky’s luggage. We sat for awhile talking in the cockpit before we had to dinghy back in to take them to the airport. It was a very quiet dinghy ride. I guess none of us really wanted to say goodbye.
Dale and I thought we would ride with them to the airport but when the Jeepney stopped, Nicky turned and gave each of us a hug and said goodbye. Gerry was next and then, they were gone. A few seconds later, I thought it would have made a good picture of them sitting in the open air taxi.
We made our way back to the Palace even more quietly than we had left. I asked Dale if he thought we would be able to sail her by ourselves again. Once we had developed a new routine, it was nice having extra sets of hands. I know for me, it was especially nice to have another female sailor onboard who could, with a simple look, assure me that she knew what I was thinking and felt the same way.
A big jet just took off from the airport, banked over the harbor and headed out across the ocean. Hopefully, it was theirs and they saw us waving farewell to them from the Palace.
Friday, March 17, 2006
St. Thomas, USVI
18.20.222N
64.55.607W
It was a quiet night and we awoke to wild donkeys braying on the beach near where we were moored; alternative alarm clocks are unique to each island, I‘m learning. Due to the genset malfunction last evening, however, Nicky and I knew that we should probably make ourselves scarce when the tools came out in spite of the possibility of donkey spotting from the boat.
You’ll probably remember from my previous post about Leinster Bay, there is a nice little snorkeling island called Waterlemon Cay right here. So when the guys started demolishing the salon, we took the dinghy and went snorkeling. We saw rays, flounder, sergeant majors, about 20 barracuda (young ones with one big one patrolling the posse), butterfly fish and tiny little silversides. We even saw a couple of hermit crabs living in fairly large conch shells crawling along the bottom.
At one point we looked up from our snorkeling and saw the guys on either side of the boat hanging off the standing rigging, rocking the Palace from side to side. We didn’t want to hazard a guess as to what they may have been doing.
When we thought we were as waterlogged as we could possibly get, we headed back. We approached the boat slowly, so as not to disturb geniuses at work. We could see that the genset was running again; that was a good sign. We boarded the Palace and learned that the genset impeller had not disintegrated as they had speculated but instead had sucked up a gob of seaweed. How it got through the strainer is beyond anyone‘s imagination. In any event, it was working and we’re all happy campers again. (They had been rocking the boat to look for the cooling water being expelled from the genset).
We slipped our mooring lines and motored over to Soper’s Hole on Tortola to check out of Customs. Once that was done, we dinghied over to the brightly painted stores along the waterfront to peruse their wares. Inside the grocery store, Nicky and I had fun looking at what was available. Nicky was pleased to see several items from England. I was pleased when Nicky found some canned cream for me. I had been looking for something that didn’t need refrigeration.
We found the guys drinking ‘pain killers’ at Pussers and joined them for lunch. We placed our orders then took off for the jewelry store to see what they had to offer. We got back just as they were setting the food on the table. I think we’ve got this island time down to a fine science.
We left Soper’s Hole and pointed our bow towards, St. Thomas. We were all rather quiet on the sail back. I know I was thinking that the week had flown by and that they were leaving too soon.
We anchored in Charlotte Amalie Harbor in pretty much the same place as before. We cleaned up and headed to The Green House for dinner. As luck would have it, the same waitress was assigned to our table. She was a good sport, as was the man at the corner table to whom we sent our bill. (Another table had previously sent us theirs.) He plopped down a business card and sent our check back. We pondered what it would be like if we had the resources to pay a bill that someone sent to us in jest. Wouldn’t it be fun to be able to make someone’s day by paying it?
It was another fun filled day but tomorrow they would be leaving us. Dale and I both wish they had been able to stay longer. It’s going to be hard to say goodbye.
18.20.222N
64.55.607W
It was a quiet night and we awoke to wild donkeys braying on the beach near where we were moored; alternative alarm clocks are unique to each island, I‘m learning. Due to the genset malfunction last evening, however, Nicky and I knew that we should probably make ourselves scarce when the tools came out in spite of the possibility of donkey spotting from the boat.
You’ll probably remember from my previous post about Leinster Bay, there is a nice little snorkeling island called Waterlemon Cay right here. So when the guys started demolishing the salon, we took the dinghy and went snorkeling. We saw rays, flounder, sergeant majors, about 20 barracuda (young ones with one big one patrolling the posse), butterfly fish and tiny little silversides. We even saw a couple of hermit crabs living in fairly large conch shells crawling along the bottom.
At one point we looked up from our snorkeling and saw the guys on either side of the boat hanging off the standing rigging, rocking the Palace from side to side. We didn’t want to hazard a guess as to what they may have been doing.
When we thought we were as waterlogged as we could possibly get, we headed back. We approached the boat slowly, so as not to disturb geniuses at work. We could see that the genset was running again; that was a good sign. We boarded the Palace and learned that the genset impeller had not disintegrated as they had speculated but instead had sucked up a gob of seaweed. How it got through the strainer is beyond anyone‘s imagination. In any event, it was working and we’re all happy campers again. (They had been rocking the boat to look for the cooling water being expelled from the genset).
We slipped our mooring lines and motored over to Soper’s Hole on Tortola to check out of Customs. Once that was done, we dinghied over to the brightly painted stores along the waterfront to peruse their wares. Inside the grocery store, Nicky and I had fun looking at what was available. Nicky was pleased to see several items from England. I was pleased when Nicky found some canned cream for me. I had been looking for something that didn’t need refrigeration.
We found the guys drinking ‘pain killers’ at Pussers and joined them for lunch. We placed our orders then took off for the jewelry store to see what they had to offer. We got back just as they were setting the food on the table. I think we’ve got this island time down to a fine science.
We left Soper’s Hole and pointed our bow towards, St. Thomas. We were all rather quiet on the sail back. I know I was thinking that the week had flown by and that they were leaving too soon.
We anchored in Charlotte Amalie Harbor in pretty much the same place as before. We cleaned up and headed to The Green House for dinner. As luck would have it, the same waitress was assigned to our table. She was a good sport, as was the man at the corner table to whom we sent our bill. (Another table had previously sent us theirs.) He plopped down a business card and sent our check back. We pondered what it would be like if we had the resources to pay a bill that someone sent to us in jest. Wouldn’t it be fun to be able to make someone’s day by paying it?
It was another fun filled day but tomorrow they would be leaving us. Dale and I both wish they had been able to stay longer. It’s going to be hard to say goodbye.
Thursday, March 16, 2006
St. John, USVI
Leinster Bay
18.21.928N
64.43.366W
We awoke today to the roar of airplanes taking off over our mast. Apparently, there is a runway just opposite the restaurant where we ate last night and just beyond where we moored. Not your usual alarm clock.
After breakfast, we slipped our mooring and pointed our bow downwind in Sir Francis Drake’s Channel between the islands that comprise the British Virgin Islands. We rounded Beef Island, with Virgin Gorda on our left, rounded again along Tortola leaving Ginger Island and Cooper Island behind us. When we reached Norman Island, we headed toward “the Indians,” which had been too rough for us to snorkel on our way up to Virgin Gorda. Today they were decidedly calmer.
We had to pace back and forth a couple of times waiting for a mooring ball to become available but once we snagged one, we pulled on our snorkel gear and jumped into the water.
Again, we were awed by the fish and coral within the nooks and crannies of the Indians. Dale did his usual trick of free diving through the underwater tunnels while the rest of us bobbed around until he appeared on the opposite side. I’d tell him to his face that he was showing off but in truth, we probably all wished we could do the same.
We returned to the boat and Nicky and I looked through the fish book trying to identify all that we saw. I guess the most interesting were the pale blue filefish.
The guys slipped our mooring lines, raised the sails and again, we raced against anyone who dared to go in the same direction; we almost always won.
This time at Leinster, we dinghied to the beach and walked the path that led to the Annaberg Sugar Mill. We climbed the wooded steps that the Park Service built up through the trees up to 1700’s stone structures that had been a windmill, boiler room, furnace, storage rooms, and slave quarters surrounded by stone fences. We poked around the buildings, marveled at the view from the top of the hill, took a few pictures and then turned around and headed back down the road, walked the long path back to the dinghy, and dinghied back to the Palace. Another full day.
While I was making dinner, Dale was running the genset. Then it quit; all by itself. Not a good thing. When Dale and Gerry opened up the access panel to the genset, it was extremely hot. Dale was very calm about it all; in fact, I was very calm about it. He said that it would take a long time to cool and that he’d look at it in the morning. I agreed. If the dang thing was going to break, I was glad that an engineer was on board. Dale can fix a lot of things but its always better to have two mechanically inclined heads instead of one.
Leinster Bay
18.21.928N
64.43.366W
We awoke today to the roar of airplanes taking off over our mast. Apparently, there is a runway just opposite the restaurant where we ate last night and just beyond where we moored. Not your usual alarm clock.
After breakfast, we slipped our mooring and pointed our bow downwind in Sir Francis Drake’s Channel between the islands that comprise the British Virgin Islands. We rounded Beef Island, with Virgin Gorda on our left, rounded again along Tortola leaving Ginger Island and Cooper Island behind us. When we reached Norman Island, we headed toward “the Indians,” which had been too rough for us to snorkel on our way up to Virgin Gorda. Today they were decidedly calmer.
We had to pace back and forth a couple of times waiting for a mooring ball to become available but once we snagged one, we pulled on our snorkel gear and jumped into the water.
Again, we were awed by the fish and coral within the nooks and crannies of the Indians. Dale did his usual trick of free diving through the underwater tunnels while the rest of us bobbed around until he appeared on the opposite side. I’d tell him to his face that he was showing off but in truth, we probably all wished we could do the same.
We returned to the boat and Nicky and I looked through the fish book trying to identify all that we saw. I guess the most interesting were the pale blue filefish.
The guys slipped our mooring lines, raised the sails and again, we raced against anyone who dared to go in the same direction; we almost always won.
This time at Leinster, we dinghied to the beach and walked the path that led to the Annaberg Sugar Mill. We climbed the wooded steps that the Park Service built up through the trees up to 1700’s stone structures that had been a windmill, boiler room, furnace, storage rooms, and slave quarters surrounded by stone fences. We poked around the buildings, marveled at the view from the top of the hill, took a few pictures and then turned around and headed back down the road, walked the long path back to the dinghy, and dinghied back to the Palace. Another full day.
While I was making dinner, Dale was running the genset. Then it quit; all by itself. Not a good thing. When Dale and Gerry opened up the access panel to the genset, it was extremely hot. Dale was very calm about it all; in fact, I was very calm about it. He said that it would take a long time to cool and that he’d look at it in the morning. I agreed. If the dang thing was going to break, I was glad that an engineer was on board. Dale can fix a lot of things but its always better to have two mechanically inclined heads instead of one.
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