(Still 3 weeks before Panama, but have also returned to New Bedford, so this is last post for now to Panama and also first post of preparing to sail in the Caribbean.)
We made it! We crossed the dread Golfo de Tehuantepec! And it was a piece of cake. Even the one little Tehuantepecer we ran into was a very mild one of short duration. Most of the time, there was either no wind at all or a nice sailing breeze. This afternoon was perfect. We turned off the engine and zoomed along at 6-7 knots. Boy, that felt good! So now all we have to do is dodge the pirates of El Salvador, Honduras, and Nicaragua, the papagallo gales of Costa Rica, the muggers and pickpockets of Colon, and the malarial mosquitoes of Belize. After that we're home free.
We arrived at Puerto Madero shortly after sunset. Unfortunately, a ship was coming out just as we approached the breakwater, so we had to stop and wait for him to get out of the way. That cost us 10 or 15 precious minutes of daylight. By the time we got into the harbor, it was too dark to find the yacht basin, so we dropped anchor in the outer harbor. I had a feeling we weren't supposed to be there, but Roy said we were in 12 feet of water, so there was no danger of big ships coming that way. I felt sleepy, so I lay down on the foredeck to take a nap, but before I could get to sleep, the sound of a motor roused me. An unlit panga with three guys in it pulled up next to the Jofian. It was too dark to see them clearly, so we assumed they were fishermen come to offer us fish. I asked, "Pescado?" (Fish?) That was a mistake. They turned out to be "Armada de Mexico", Mexican Navy, telling us we couldn't anchor there. They didn't speak English, but their Spanish was plain enough. I told them, "No podemos ver" (We can't see), but they didn't care. They knew one word of English and they used it: "Move! Move!" So we pulled up the anchor, and they zoomed off.
According to our chart, there were two basins off the main harbor, but it was too dark to see the channels that led to them. A brightly lit dredge happened to come in at that moment, so we decided to follow it, assuming it was on its way to the large ship harbor, but it only went a short way and dropped anchor. We couldn't see if there was enough room to squeeze by him, so Roy started going around in circles. We were afraid we might have to spend the night circling, but then the Navy panga came zooming back, shouting, "Move! Move!" Again I said, "No podemos ver!" They indicated we should follow them, and they proceeded slowly ahead of us. Since they had no light, I stood in the bow shining the searchlight on them, so Roy could see where to go. It was a pitch dark night; we had no idea where we were going. For a while, I was afraid they were going to take us outside the breakwater and make us anchor in the ocean, but soon we could make out the outlines of other sailboats at anchor. The Navy guys said, "OK aqui," and zoomed off, so we dropped anchor, still not really knowing where we were.
We'd no sooner anchored than two boys in an inflatable chugged up and asked if we wanted diesel. We asked how much, and they told us 1200 a liter, which works out to about $1.60 a gallon, which is pretty high. We said, "Manana," and they left.
Fortunately, Roy only wanted a light supper, so we ate some soup and canned peaches. Then I collapsed into bed and zombied out.
Friday, October 28, 1994
Hello again. Roy returned yesterday, looking hale and hearty. Hard work must agree with him.
He didn't have a clue that I was going to meet him at the airport. I wanted to surprise him -- and I sure did! But I was surprised, too. He was supposed to arrive at 3:02 p.m. on Flight 1234 from Denver. I got to the airport at twenty to three and looked at the Continental monitor. No Flight 1234 was listed, no flight from Denver was listed, no flight scheduled to arrive at 3:02 was listed. Panic thoughts flashed through my mind: the plane had crashed, the flight had been canceled, the plane had gotten in an hour early and Roy was already on his way to the boat. Naw, whoever heard of a flight getting in early!
The line at the ticket counter was a mile long, so I went to the First Class counter, which was only one deep. The clerk informed me that Flight 1234 from Denver had been replaced by Flight 1216 from Cleveland, which was due in at 4:10. She checked on the computer and found Grabenauer, so that was a relief. (Sometimes it helps to have a name that isn't Smith or Jones -- or Holt!)
At four o'clock, I rechecked the monitor. Flight 1216 was now due in at 4:27. Par for the course.
When the plane landed, I hid behind a big square pillar, where Roy couldn't see me. As soon as he walked past, I sneaked up in back of him and asked, "Do you have a feeling you're being followed?" Talk about a double take! He looked at me as if he'd never seen me before in his life; then he recognized me, and we both burst out laughing. Passersby must have thought we were a couple of escapees from the local loony bin. We were both very glad to see each other again.
On the way home, we got caught up on conversation. During our weekly telephone conversation last Sunday, Roy had asked me to make a reservation at Kelley's Boatyard for a quickie haulout. He wanted to inspect the hull, replace the zincs, and install the new cable for the Sumlog. So on Monday, I rode my bike over there and talked with the Operations Manager. Their prices were a little high -- $5 a foot for the haulout, including the return, $2 a foot for the pressure wash, and $1 a foot for laydays -- but we could live aboard, and Roy could do his own work, so I made what I thought was a reservation for next Monday. I wanted to set a specific time, but the manager said to phone him one or two days before the haulout to set the time. He assured me there would be no problem hauling out on Monday.
Today, Friday, Roy busied himself putting away all the tons of gear he had shipped back from California and figuring out where to install the new diesel heater. I pulled the wagon over to the Post Office and brought home the last of the boxes he had shipped. We also checked some other yards, but Kelley's was the cheapest, so I tried to phone the Operations Manager, whom I had talked with last Monday. It turned out he had the day off. The woman in the office said I'd have to talk with Mr. McLaughlin, but he was on the other line. I called back later, and McLaughlin was busy in the yard. Roy and I wanted to look the place over anyway, so we rode our bikes over there to talk with him in person. It turned out the Operations Manager had never said one word to McLaughlin about hauling out the Jofian, and they were booked solid for Monday. In fact, the earliest they could haul us was Wednesday, so we said, "Forget it." There's nothing urgent about hauling out here; the boat hasn't leaked a drop, so we'll just head south. We're going to haul out in Norfolk, anyway.
This evening, the wind died down. Roy wanted to take advantage of the calm to turn the boat around, so we'd be headed out. He got all the lines ready but forgot to cleat the stern line, so the boat nearly got away from us. Fortunately, there were a couple of other lines attached to the boat, so we were able to salvage the situation. Jofian is now tied to the outside of the dock, ready to leave as soon as we get a weather window.
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