Got up at midnight, weighed anchor, and left the harbor by radar. The wind was scarcely blowing at all, so we made good time motoring east. Everything went well for a change, and we reached Luperon around ten in the morning.
What a lovely harbor! It's completely surrounded by green hills, so there's excellent protection here. We were surprised to see about thirty other sailboats peacefully sitting at anchor.
We were told over the VHF to go to the dock to clear in, so we did. It's a long, sturdy cement dock. The officials came to the boat, instead of us having to find their offices. First customs cleared the boat, and then immigration checked our passports. A man on the dock provided yacht services, including diesel, so we ordered thirty gallons, thinking he'd bring it by truck. To our surprise, he brought a fifteen-gallon container of diesel on a moped. Then he went back and got another fifteen-gallon container. He set a container on a high bollard, attached a siphoning hose to it, started the suction by mouth (ugh!), and filled our jerry jugs. The diesel cost $1.75 a gallon, which wasn't bad considering the diesel was delivered.
We took the boat out to the anchorage, ate lunch, and took a nap. Then we paddled to the dock to go to town. We were surprised by the lack of accommodation for dinghies. There was a rusty ladder from the dock to the water, and a bunch of dinghies were clustered around it, but there was no good place for our Royaks. We had to pull them up on mud-covered coral and tie them as best we could. The armed guard on the dock demanded $3 to watch them, which I felt was a rip-off, but Roy paid him.
Even though the harbor here is beautiful, the village is strictly third world. It is as poverty-stricken as the poorest places in Mexico and Costa Rica. If traveling to places like this does nothing else for you, it certainly makes you thankful you had the amazing good fortune of having been born in the United States.
Surprisingly, Luperon has nice, smooth cement sidewalks, but the streets are unpaved. A lot of people ride around on mopeds, and some have pickup trucks. I kept wondering where they got the money to buy them. We also saw a couple of men riding burros and some kids on beat-up bicycles. All the people are very pleasant, friendly, cheerful, and apparently happy. We walked the entire length of the town and saw a few fairly nice houses, but most are thatch-roofed shacks. There is nothing we would consider a real grocery store -- just some hole-in-the-wall type places with a very limited stock. We bought a few potatoes, onions, oranges, a dozen eggs, and a pineapple. The pineapple was very good, but poor Roy had a hard time eating it due to his sore lip.
Saturday, March 31, 2012
Friday, March 30, 2012
Friday, March 31, 1995 - Dominican Republic
What a difference daylight makes! We could now see that we had anchored way out near the entrance to the harbor. I was afraid to go any closer to land in the dark; it looked as if we were practically on it. The wind and waves had calmed down overnight, so we were sitting there quite peacefully. Felt much, much better.
After breakfast, we raised the anchor and motored in closer to land, where we had more protection, and dropped anchor again. We were a little worried, since we had no business being there, not having cleared into the Dominican Republic. There are only three ports on the north coast of the Dominican Republic where you can clear in, and Monte Cristi isn't one of them.
About 10:30, when Roy and I were relaxing in the main cabin, I heard someone calling what sounded like "Hello!" We went up to the cockpit. A leaky wooden motorboat with four men in it was next to the Jofian. One man wore a blue jumpsuit and had a small gun strapped to his waist; we assumed he was the Port Captain. One of the men kept bailing the boat with a coffee can, another sat in the bow, and the fourth did all the talking. Apparently, none of them spoke any English at all, and my limited Spanish was very rusty, but somehow I managed to communicate that we had come from the Bahamas, we were going to Luperon, but the strong wind had blown us off course, so we had ducked into Monte Cristi to rest. I requested permission to remain until the wind died down. We showed them the boat's papers and our passports. They asked if we had any guns, and we assured them we didn't. We promised to leave first thing in the morning, when the wind was calm. Roy gave each of them a Kudo bar. That did the trick. They left with big smiles.
The easterly trade winds blow hard during the day, but diminish at night, so the only way a small boat can move eastward down here is by hiding behind capes and headlands during the day and motoring at night. We have the "Thornless Passage" book by Bruce Van Sant, which tells boaters exactly how to do it, so we're going to take his advice and leave here at midnight for Luperon. During the day, Roy repaired the headsail again, and we both took naps.
This is a pretty place, and we wished we could go ashore. There's a huge, flat-topped rock here, called El Morro de Monte Cristi. We saw it from way out at sea when we were coming in. It provides good protection from the wind.
After breakfast, we raised the anchor and motored in closer to land, where we had more protection, and dropped anchor again. We were a little worried, since we had no business being there, not having cleared into the Dominican Republic. There are only three ports on the north coast of the Dominican Republic where you can clear in, and Monte Cristi isn't one of them.
About 10:30, when Roy and I were relaxing in the main cabin, I heard someone calling what sounded like "Hello!" We went up to the cockpit. A leaky wooden motorboat with four men in it was next to the Jofian. One man wore a blue jumpsuit and had a small gun strapped to his waist; we assumed he was the Port Captain. One of the men kept bailing the boat with a coffee can, another sat in the bow, and the fourth did all the talking. Apparently, none of them spoke any English at all, and my limited Spanish was very rusty, but somehow I managed to communicate that we had come from the Bahamas, we were going to Luperon, but the strong wind had blown us off course, so we had ducked into Monte Cristi to rest. I requested permission to remain until the wind died down. We showed them the boat's papers and our passports. They asked if we had any guns, and we assured them we didn't. We promised to leave first thing in the morning, when the wind was calm. Roy gave each of them a Kudo bar. That did the trick. They left with big smiles.
The easterly trade winds blow hard during the day, but diminish at night, so the only way a small boat can move eastward down here is by hiding behind capes and headlands during the day and motoring at night. We have the "Thornless Passage" book by Bruce Van Sant, which tells boaters exactly how to do it, so we're going to take his advice and leave here at midnight for Luperon. During the day, Roy repaired the headsail again, and we both took naps.
This is a pretty place, and we wished we could go ashore. There's a huge, flat-topped rock here, called El Morro de Monte Cristi. We saw it from way out at sea when we were coming in. It provides good protection from the wind.
Thursday, March 29, 2012
Thursday, March 30, 1995 - Dominican Republic
Sometime during the night, I spotted the lights of a ship but couldn't pick it up on radar. I spent half an hour trying to find it on radar, while it kept getting closer. Then Roy got up for his watch. He couldn't see it on radar either, but he could see its starboard light, so we knew it was going past us in the opposite direction. Finally we found it on the radar screen.
We had to motor-sail today, due to the strong easterly trade winds. I'm really kicking myself for making Roy turn off the engine last night. We'd be a lot better off going to Luperon than Monte Cristi. It will take us another day to get from Monte Cristi to Luperon, bashing against the wind and waves all the day.
As we got closer to the Dominican Republic, the wind kept getting stronger. Soon it was blowing more than twenty knots and we were zooming along at seven knots with big waves crashing over the deck. We were hoping to make Monte Cristi in daylight, but we're so far east that the sun sets nearly an hour earlier. By the time we reached the entrance to the harbor, it was pitch dark. Roy had managed to lower the mizzen sail and the mainsail and he'd furled the staysail, but the headsail was messing up again. He was only able to get it partly furled, and the sheets were flogging like crazy. One of them hit his lip and really hurt. His lip's all swollen. Thank goodness it didn't hit his eyes!
The wind was howling and the waves were knocking us around. I didn't see how we could possibly get an anchor to hold under those conditions. I was really scared. I was afraid we'd blow all the way to Haiti. Roy was out on deck, struggling with the headsail, while I was trying to steer into the harbor by radar. Then he had me shift into neutral and go out to help him get the anchor ready. I wasn't much help, but finally we got a hundred or so feet of chain spread out on the deck. Roy shoved the anchor over, and to our great relief it held. Did it ever feel good to be settled down for the night! Roy even managed to get the headsail wrapped up temporarily. His strength and energy and stamina and know-how are so amazing!
We ate a fast but filling supper. Roy was going to see if he could get anything on television, but the inverter shorted out, so now we can't use the microwave oven, the toaster over, the hot water heater, or the TV, except of course when we're at a dock with shore power. I went right to bed and slept like a log. Roy stayed up a while, checking the radar to be sure we didn't drag. Then he slept like a log too.
We had to motor-sail today, due to the strong easterly trade winds. I'm really kicking myself for making Roy turn off the engine last night. We'd be a lot better off going to Luperon than Monte Cristi. It will take us another day to get from Monte Cristi to Luperon, bashing against the wind and waves all the day.
As we got closer to the Dominican Republic, the wind kept getting stronger. Soon it was blowing more than twenty knots and we were zooming along at seven knots with big waves crashing over the deck. We were hoping to make Monte Cristi in daylight, but we're so far east that the sun sets nearly an hour earlier. By the time we reached the entrance to the harbor, it was pitch dark. Roy had managed to lower the mizzen sail and the mainsail and he'd furled the staysail, but the headsail was messing up again. He was only able to get it partly furled, and the sheets were flogging like crazy. One of them hit his lip and really hurt. His lip's all swollen. Thank goodness it didn't hit his eyes!
The wind was howling and the waves were knocking us around. I didn't see how we could possibly get an anchor to hold under those conditions. I was really scared. I was afraid we'd blow all the way to Haiti. Roy was out on deck, struggling with the headsail, while I was trying to steer into the harbor by radar. Then he had me shift into neutral and go out to help him get the anchor ready. I wasn't much help, but finally we got a hundred or so feet of chain spread out on the deck. Roy shoved the anchor over, and to our great relief it held. Did it ever feel good to be settled down for the night! Roy even managed to get the headsail wrapped up temporarily. His strength and energy and stamina and know-how are so amazing!
We ate a fast but filling supper. Roy was going to see if he could get anything on television, but the inverter shorted out, so now we can't use the microwave oven, the toaster over, the hot water heater, or the TV, except of course when we're at a dock with shore power. I went right to bed and slept like a log. Roy stayed up a while, checking the radar to be sure we didn't drag. Then he slept like a log too.
Wednesday, March 28, 2012
Wednesday, March 29, 1995 - On way Dominican Republic
It was calm and sunny when we left Abraham Bay. Enough of a breeze came up for us to sail all day and most of the night. We're on our way to Monte Cristi in the Dominican Republic. We would be heading for Luperon if I hadn't messed things up. Roy started the engine during the night so we could head more east, but the engine noise kept me awake and I yelled at him to turn it off, so he did, but that meant we had to blow west towards Monte Cristi, which isn't a Port of Entry.
Tuesday, March 27, 2012
Tuesday, March 28, 1995 - Mayaguana Island, Bahamas
The wind picked up a little in the morning, and we started dragging anchor towards the beach, so we sailed over to Abraham Bay, which is sheltered by a reef. Roy wanted to go up the bay towards the village, but I was too chicken, so we anchored near the entrance. The chart shows the bay as shallow with lots of coral heads. However, when we paddled to the village, we saw that we could have taken the boat a couple more miles, as the depth remained the same nearly the entire way and there were very few coral heads, which were easy to see. But when we got close to the settlement, we saw a sailboat that had gone aground a long time ago and another one that was stranded on the beach, so I was glad we'd anchored where we did. Besides, it gave us a good excuse for a very nice paddle.
When we got to the village, there was no there there. At least not much. There were a few small houses, a police station, a communications building, and two tiny stores. The streets were unpaved and lined with abandoned vehicles. The people appeared to be very poor. There are roughly 500 to 600 people on the island, most of whom live at Abraham Bay. The rest live at Betsy Bay and Spanish Wells. The people are very pleasant and courteous. They speak English, but with an accent that makes them difficult to understand at times. They appear to be the descendants of slaves, who were taken to the island in the 1700's.
The first tiny store we went into had flour, rice, a few scrawny potatoes, and some canned goods. They didn't have fresh milk, bread, fruit, green vegetables or eggs. The potatoes were $1 a pound!
We went over to the next store. It had a little more, but not much. We paid $2 for a dozen eggs and $1 for a pound of potatoes, but they were better looking potatoes than the ones in the first store. They didn't have anything else that we needed. We can't understand how the people here can afford to pay those prices. There doesn't seem to be any way to earn a living, other than a few government jobs. We didn't see any farms or even vegetable gardens. A few goats and chickens were wandering around. There weren't any commercial fishing boats. How do the people exist? Of course, rent is undoubtedly dirt cheap.
We started back to the boat in a dead calm. The sun set at six o'clock, but we still had half an hour of twilight. Then the boat's masthead light came on, which made an excellent target to paddle towards. We were back on the boat by 7:30.
When we got to the village, there was no there there. At least not much. There were a few small houses, a police station, a communications building, and two tiny stores. The streets were unpaved and lined with abandoned vehicles. The people appeared to be very poor. There are roughly 500 to 600 people on the island, most of whom live at Abraham Bay. The rest live at Betsy Bay and Spanish Wells. The people are very pleasant and courteous. They speak English, but with an accent that makes them difficult to understand at times. They appear to be the descendants of slaves, who were taken to the island in the 1700's.
The first tiny store we went into had flour, rice, a few scrawny potatoes, and some canned goods. They didn't have fresh milk, bread, fruit, green vegetables or eggs. The potatoes were $1 a pound!
We went over to the next store. It had a little more, but not much. We paid $2 for a dozen eggs and $1 for a pound of potatoes, but they were better looking potatoes than the ones in the first store. They didn't have anything else that we needed. We can't understand how the people here can afford to pay those prices. There doesn't seem to be any way to earn a living, other than a few government jobs. We didn't see any farms or even vegetable gardens. A few goats and chickens were wandering around. There weren't any commercial fishing boats. How do the people exist? Of course, rent is undoubtedly dirt cheap.
We started back to the boat in a dead calm. The sun set at six o'clock, but we still had half an hour of twilight. Then the boat's masthead light came on, which made an excellent target to paddle towards. We were back on the boat by 7:30.
Monday, March 26, 2012
Monday, March 27, 1995 - Mayaguana Island, Bahamas
How delightful to be peacefully swinging at anchor! It's surprisingly cool here. We're only 22 degrees above the equator, so you'd think it would be hot, but the wind keeps it cool. It's a lot cooler than Florida.
We paddled ashore and walked along the beach. Had the whole place to ourselves. This part of the island is completely deserted. The sand is clean and white. There were no footprints in it until we came along. We walked up and down the beach and then got back in our Royaks and paddled towards Abraham Bay, where the settlement is.
At Start Point, we were surprised to find the ruins of an old fuel unloading facility. There was still a fairly substantial wharf, some small buildings, and a number of tanks and pipes. Someone invested a lot of money in it, and now it's going to rack and ruin.
We had planned on paddling to Abraham Bay to check out the entrance, but it was farther than we had thought. We'd been paddling against the wind for quite a while and we were hungry, so we turned around and blew back to the boat.
We had been the only boat here when we arrived, but a sloop came in this morning and another sloop in the afternoon. They anchored a few hundred yards from us. A ketch almost came in in the evening, but they changed their minds and took off. A little later, one of the sloops left, so we nearly had the place to ourselves again.
In case you're wondering where Mayaguana Island is, it's the easternmost of the Bahamas. We're already at the far end of the Bahama chain, and we did it in less than a week! More than 500 miles! It's hard to believe. Now we're only 200 miles north of the Dominican Republic, our next destination. We got out the charts this evening and figured out the best way to go.
We paddled ashore and walked along the beach. Had the whole place to ourselves. This part of the island is completely deserted. The sand is clean and white. There were no footprints in it until we came along. We walked up and down the beach and then got back in our Royaks and paddled towards Abraham Bay, where the settlement is.
At Start Point, we were surprised to find the ruins of an old fuel unloading facility. There was still a fairly substantial wharf, some small buildings, and a number of tanks and pipes. Someone invested a lot of money in it, and now it's going to rack and ruin.
We had planned on paddling to Abraham Bay to check out the entrance, but it was farther than we had thought. We'd been paddling against the wind for quite a while and we were hungry, so we turned around and blew back to the boat.
We had been the only boat here when we arrived, but a sloop came in this morning and another sloop in the afternoon. They anchored a few hundred yards from us. A ketch almost came in in the evening, but they changed their minds and took off. A little later, one of the sloops left, so we nearly had the place to ourselves again.
In case you're wondering where Mayaguana Island is, it's the easternmost of the Bahamas. We're already at the far end of the Bahama chain, and we did it in less than a week! More than 500 miles! It's hard to believe. Now we're only 200 miles north of the Dominican Republic, our next destination. We got out the charts this evening and figured out the best way to go.
Sunday, March 25, 2012
Sunday, March 26, 1995 - Mayaguana Island, Bahamas
Nice southwest breeze, so we were able to sail all day. We planned on anchoring in Betsy Bay, but when we got there, there was no protection and the wind was quite strong. I really messed up when I was getting the anchor ready. Roy had furled the headsail. I needed some slack to slip the line over the hook to keep it out of the way of the anchor, so I released the brake as I usually do, not thinking of the strong wind. The wind caught the sail and blew it way out. Roy had a real struggle to bring it back in.
There was too much wind and wave in Betsy Bay, so we decided to motor around the point to Abraham Bay. It was quite a ways, and the day was getting late, so we pulled into Start Bay and anchored in twenty feet of clear water. It sure felt good to be settled down at last.
There was too much wind and wave in Betsy Bay, so we decided to motor around the point to Abraham Bay. It was quite a ways, and the day was getting late, so we pulled into Start Bay and anchored in twenty feet of clear water. It sure felt good to be settled down at last.
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