Saturday, November 4, 1995 - Trinidad

Yesterday afternoon, we debated whether to go in towards the coast and anchor for the night or just keep going. We made the wrong decision. At the time, we were only making three or four knots, so we figured it would take us all night to reach Trinidad, but a few hours later we picked up a favorable current and began making five or six knots. We reached the point that led into the Gulf of Paria in the middle of the night. We cut back on the RPM's and eased our way around the point, using the radar. Luckily, the moon was very bright. We immediately found ourselves in the traffic lane for freighters. They were all over the place, and most of them seemed to be coming straight at us. There were ships in front of us, ships in back of us, ships to the right of us, and ships to the left of us. Sometimes we were dodging three or four at the same time, not to mention avoiding rocks and islands. It was a nightmare, but we survived. What a relief when the sun finally came up! We were headed to Port of Spain, the capital of Trinidad, because Street's Guide said that was where we had to go to check in. We should have known better than to rely on a guide that was nearly ten years old. It was a long way across the gulf to Port of Spain. On the way, we passed a bay that was filled with sailboats. There were hundreds and hundreds of masts, crowded so closely together that they looked like trees in a forest. That should have given us a clue, but we kept going. When we finally got to Port of Spain, it was a dirty commercial harbor, full of freighters. The docks that Street said we should tie to were falling apart. We motored slowly, looking for a place to tie up. At least we didn't have any wind or waves to contend with; it was dead calm. A man on a remnant of a dock signaled to us to go to the next dock. It didn't look like much, but we went over there. Another man waved us in and tied our lines for us. He was what cruisers call a "Boat Boy", rather an insulting term. "Boat Boys" are grown men who hang around the waterfront, eking out something resembling a living by assisting boaters in any way they can. We could, of course, have secured the boat by ourselves, but he did make it easier for us, so we paid him $5. Then he wanted to watch the boat for $20. We told him we'd pay him twenty Trinidadian dollars but not U.S. dollars. The exchange rate is about five to one. He agreed to that. A Customs official in uniform came over and showed us the building we had to go to for Customs, so as soon as we'd changed our clothes, we went over there with our papers. The "English" that is spoken here is so heavily accented that we had a hard time understanding what anyone was saying, but in due course we got checked in. They charged us $22.83. Then the Customs officer drove us to Immigration. That was nice of him, even though it was only a block or two. There was a very surly man in Immigration who was not in uniform, but he was behind the desk, so we assumed he was the officer. That was another mistake. We were given two forms to fill out, one in quadruplicate and the other in quintuplicate. Fortunately, they provided carbon paper. While I was filling out the forms, the "official" went into the next room to watch television. It only took a few minutes to complete the forms, but we didn't dare disturb the "official", so we waited patiently. (When you go into a foreign country, you're totally at the mercy of the local officials.) Several people walked through the room, some of them in uniform. Finally, the real Immigration Officer arrived. He spoke reasonably good English. He asked us if we were going to be keeping the boat in Port of Spain. When we told him we were going to Powerboats to haul out, he said we couldn't clear in in Port of Spain; we had to clear in in Chaguaramas, where Powerboats is. Terrific. He told us to let Customs know, so we gathered up our papers and headed back towards Customs. We were worried about paying Mr. Eyeballs, as we had used all our small U.S. bills and only had twenties left. We certainly didn't want to give him a U.S. twenty. There were banks across the street, but we figured they'd be closed on Saturday. Went over there anyway. Trinidad was a British possession until the empire fell apart, so they drive on the left side of the road. Try crossing a busy street with all the traffic going the "wrong" way. Fun. When we finally got across, the banks were closed, as we had expected, but we found an ATM. It didn't accept my Cirrus card, but it did accept the Bank of America Plus card, so we were able to get a thousand brand new Trinidadian dollars. That was a relief. We gave twenty to Mr. Eyeballs for watching the boat, and we took off. Chaguaramas is close to the entrance to the Gulf of Paria, so it took quite a while to get there. When we were almost there, splat! down came the rain. This rain didn't fool around; it poured cats, dogs, fishes, and just about everything else. We filled our water tank to overflowing and filled every water container we had and still had plenty of rain left over. No wonder the landscape looks so lush and green! We shouldn't have any problem keeping supplied with water in this country. The rain was so dense that Roy had to use the radar to see where he was going. Luckily, as we approached the anchorage, the rain let up. We could see that many of the boats were on land, presumably at Powerboats boatyard. (Despite its name, they haul sailboats and were highly recommended by every cruiser we talked with who had been there and by several letters in the SSCA Bulletin.) I tried to call the marina on VHF. Someone came on and told me they closed at twelve o'clock on Saturday. It was then one o'clock. Figures. The water was quite deep, but Roy eventually found a spot where we could anchor in 33 feet of water. It was very obliging of the rain to stop long enough for us to get anchored. It soon came down in torrents again, and we had to put up the side curtains. We ate lunch and then lay down for naps. I don't like to sleep during the day, but I was exhausted from two nights of standing watch. As soon as my head touched the pillow, I conked out. Nearly slept around the clock.