December 31, Isla Mujeres, Mexico

Howard arrived in Roatan on a rainy Friday.  It was the day after Thanksgiving, and we had celebrated the holiday with a group of rogues, misfits, and sailors in the "tiki palapa," an open-air, thatch-roofed structure at Fantasy Island Marina.  I was still full of turkey and sweet potatoes when we picked him up at the airport.  The dismal weather that had characterized the Carlton's visit - frequent rain and too-little-wind-to-sail - was still dampening our spirits.  At least we caught enough rain to fill the water tanks.

It was good to have Howard aboard.  He threw himself into little tasks that I had ignored for weeks or months.  It's amazing what that guy can fix with WD-40 and Superglue!  With help from the motor, we traveled to Roatan's West End, and then to Utila where we checked out of Honduras.  Then we did the overnight passage to Placencia, Belize via Ranguana Pass.  With a third person available to take a watch, we each had eight hours off between watches.  What a luxury!   

We enjoyed Placencia.  A quiet little town consisting of a couple of dirt roads and one very long concrete sidewalk.  They had a good grocery store, some good eateries, and a convenient bar with a dinghy dock where the sailors congregated.  We traveled down to the Monkey River, which we explored by dinghy.  We saw lots of birds, including toucans, and heard howler monkeys in the distance.  We spent a couple of nights anchored at beautiful, peaceful Palmetto Cay, bumping the bottom during our first approach.  The electronic charts for Belize have serious errors, often placing reefs and islands a quarter mile or more from where they actually sit.  (Trust your eyes, not your chart plotter!)

Captain Howard and Maribeth on the beach at Little Water Cay, Belize

The rain was no longer troublesome, but the wind remained too light for sailing, and none of us were thrilled by the prospect of motoring.  But Howard was flying out of Belize City in a few days, and we needed to get further north.  So we headed off, first to Little Water Cay, then Glover's Reef, then South Water Cay...   As we moved north, the wind returned.  Belize has the world's second-largest barrier reef (behind Australia's Great Barrier Reef.)  The reef breaks the swells and waves from the Caribbean Sea, making for flat, fast, comfortable sailing.  The coast is oriented north and south, and the wind blows typically from the east, meaning we sailed north on a reach, the fastest point of sail.  I was happy Howard could enjoy a couple full days of fabulous sailing - often at 7 knots or more - as we made our way north to Colson Cays and ultimately to Caye Caulker.  

Howard caught a puddle jumper out of Caye Caulker on the 10th, and Maribeth and I prepared to sail north to Mexico.   Our plan was to make the short 24-mile sail from San Pedro to Xcalak (ish-CAH-lahk.) Xcalak has a tricky entrance through the reef, and we wanted to arrive there when the sun was high in the sky.  So we set out early on the 14th, motoring and bouncing out the narrow, twisting path through San Pedro Pass.  Once safely through the pass, we decided to motor further east to gain a better angle on the wind for our sail north.  But then the motor sputtered and died.  I knew the motor was fuel-starved, but the tank had plenty of diesel, and I had just replaced the fuel filter.  Nevertheless, I re-checked the filter, and added our reserve jug of fuel to the tank.  No luck.  Maybe there was air in the system.   I worked the manual pump, but could get no fuel to the motor.   So we concluded we must have a blockage somewhere in the fuel line.  The seas were much too uncomfortable for me to start tearing into fuel lines.   What to do?  There was no way I was going to attempt sailing into Xcalak with no motor.  A mistake would be disastrous.   For the same reason, we couldn't even return to San Pedro.  So I started studying the chart as Maribeth helmed the boat.  We were headed north, but the only pass through the reef that seemed safe for a boat with no motor was four hours south of us.  So, reluctantly, we turned around.  To make matters worse, I became momentarily seasick, leaving Maribeth to jibe La Peregrina by herself while I hung on the lifeline, giving my breakfast to the sea.  What a miserable puppy I was!  And thank God Maribeth is a good sailor!

By 1:30, we had sailed through Long Cay Pass and anchored in the lee of Long Cay.   Within an hour, I found and cleared a blockage in the fuel line, and bled the air from the system.  The motor ran great.  We had started the day 24 miles from Xcalak, and now we were 40 miles away.   Our weather window for sailing north had now closed.  One step forward, two steps back.  

Three days later, we set out again.  We raised anchor before dawn and sailed north from Caye Caulker.  We were through San Pedro Pass for the second time at 8:00 am, and pointed north on a beautiful reach, this time headed for Isla Mujeres.  We were moving slow at first, but we gradually gained speed as we moved further offshore.  At four o'clock, I reeled in the fishing line, and was surprised to discover we had caught a baracuda.  Finally, we had gotten a fish into the cockpit, but not one we cared to eat!   

It turned out to be a fantastic sail.   We had winds from 15 to 24 knots, 60 to 120 degrees to starboard the entire way.  La Peregrina was so happy!  We sailed for hours at 7 knots or more.  For a few hours near Cozumel, the current helped us move along at more than 9 knots, hitting 10.2 knots a couple of times.  Fasten your seatbelt!  We had the anchor down in Bahia Isla Mujeres at 4:30 in the afternoon.  We had made the 230 nautical miles from Caye Caulker to Isla Mujeres in 35 hours, counting ground tackle time at both ends of the trip.  And the motor, which had caused us to abort our first attempt at reaching Mexico, had barely run at all.  

We spent five days getting checked into Mexico, a more difficult process than any other country we've visited this year.  By the time we were through, it was only two days until Christmas.  We decided to give ourselves some marina time for Christmas.  So we moved from the anchorage to El Milagro Marina and Resort.  Here we had a tremendous Christmas meal with about 80 people, comprised of the marina's sailors, hotel guests, and the Mexican workers and their families.  We were terribly homesick for friends and family.  But it was a fun gathering, and a great cultural experience we will long remember.

La Peregrina, dressed for Christmas

I think we'll stay here at El Milagro for another week or two.  Jade arrives tonight for a ten-day visit.  We can't wait to have her.   

I write this on New Year's Eve.  As we approach the end of "Our Year of Living Dangerously," we naturally reflect back on this remarkable experience.   We've seen and learned much.  One thing we've really come to appreciate is how much all of you mean to us.  Please know that you are never far from our thoughts, that we love to hear from you, and that we wish you all the very best for 2017 and beyond.  

¡Feliz año nuevo!

  

November 24; French Harbor, Roatan

On Saturday, the 12th, the Carltons flew into Roatan to spend a week with us aboard La Peregrina.  Their luggage, however, failed to show up.   About half of their baggage was their personal clothes and snorkel gear.  The other half was stuff for us:    It included several items for the boat that I could not obtain in Guatemala:  clear vinyl to replace a clouded window on our bimini, sewing needles, basting tape, and electric indicator lights for the boat’s DC panel.  To this, the very generous Carltons had added a bunch of goodies they knew we sorely missed:  sun dried tomatoes, quality cheese, nuts, a loaf of artisan bread, and some salted caramels!  Bob even packed a cutting board he had made out of teak and holly with “La Peregrina” carved on the back.   It was all missing.

The Carltons took it all in stride.  The airline had given them a toiletries kit and a $500 allowance to purchase items they needed.  And virtually everything they needed could be bought at one of the many t-shirt or dive shops in Roatan.   So they refused to let the situation ruin their vacation.  But I was a different story.  I was like a child who woke up on Christmas morning and discovered there was nothing under the tree.  I sulked all week.

Bob Carlton shares a beer with Cheeky, one of the monkeys that hangs around Fantasy Island Resort.  Bob is to left.

Unfortunately, it seemed nearly everything went wrong the week the Carltons were here.  We had hoped to take them to Guanaja or to Cayos Cochinos.  But the Honduran authorities took five days to give me a sailing permit, and the Carlton’s week was half over before I felt we could permissibly leave Roatan.  It was cloudy and rainy all week.  There was almost no wind.  We never got a chance to sail; we never even took the mainsail cover off.  And we spent hours and hours in a futile effort to find lost luggage. 

If I had a pony...

But we did get to see a good bit of the south coast of Roatan:  French Harbor, Port Royal, the little fishing village of Oak Ridge, and West End. We had many dinghy rides.  We snorkeled.  We had a fabulous lobster dinner at Mango Creek Resort.  Maribeth cooked excellent meals, and we drank, and laughed, and listened to music, and had stimulating, semi-intelligent conversations.   The Carltons were gracious, convivial guests, and though I regret we did not provide more sunshine and more adventure, we thoroughly enjoyed their visit.

Bob and Terrie aboard La Peregrina

We have since learned that the luggage was found and was returned to Nashville airport the same night the Carlton’s flew back to Nashville.  During its week on the run, it had been in Miami, Houston, Dallas, Mexico City, El Salvador, Ecuador, and Puerto Rico.  But never Roatan.

There was one more item in the Carlton’s luggage:  ashes of Robin Fields.  Robin was a dear friend, and long time companion of Captain Howard Toole.  She died one year ago, and Howard asked that we spread her ashes in the Caribbean Sea and “laugh, drink, sing, and dance.”  One reason so many of us loved Robin was because she was a free spirit, willing to try anything once.  She had spent part of her youth in South America, and was known there as Pahara, the Spanish word for “bird.”  It is hard not to think that Robin wanted one more adventure, one more wild and crazy Latin American tour.  She was going, and the luggage would just have to tag along.  Here’s to you, Robin!  

On Monday, the 21st, we raised anchor, and sailed south away from West End, Roatan toward Cayos Cochinos.  It was an easy four-hour trip.  How nice to be exploring again, away from a tourist economy!  Cayos Cochinos are a group of 13 islands 20 miles north of the Honduran mainland.  We picked up a mooring ball off Cochino Grande, the largest island, and spent all day on the 22nd exploring by dinghy.  We snorkeled, walked on the beach, hiked to the top of the island, and climbed up the old lighthouse (no longer working since the solar panels blew away.)  And we saw, for the first time in a while, a gorgeous sunset.  

The sun sets over Cochino Poqueno

Atop Cochino Grande Light

We are now back in Roatan, anchored in the protected waters of French Harbor.  We’ll have a Thanksgiving dinner with other American sailors this evening.  We’re looking forward to Captain Howard’s arrival tomorrow.  We’ll head for Belize in a few days.  Happy Thanksgiving to you all!

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * 

It’s Thanksgiving and I am jubilant!   The good Lord has blessed me with incredible family and friends.  And I am enjoying the opportunity to go sailing for a year in the Caribbean and Central America.  One of our goals for this year was to be way chilled.  If we got more chilled than we are now we would most likely not be among the living.  What a luxury to have the time to make a journey on it’s timeframe, not mine.

So many of you read our blogs and think it would be a once in a lifetime opportunity to travel on a sailboat.  Joe ends every blog asking you to join us.  He is sincere in his invitation.  But the truth is this boat is really small and the weather hardly cooperates and it usually takes days to get where we want to go.

Has our trip not lived up to our expectations?  It most certainly has and more than we hoped for!  So what is my point?  If you feel passionate about something you want to do, then do it.  Take a leap of faith and go for it.  And be thankful for the opportunity.  

So that brings me full circle.  I am truly thankful.  Thankful for my adventurous husband who encourages me to step out of my comfort zone.  Thankful for my children and family who encouraged me to make the trip. And thankful for my friends who cheered me on and said don’t worry, it will all be ok, we’ve got your back while you are gone.  It’s a grand life!!

Lamb Cay, Cayos Cochinos

November 11; Roatan, Islas de Bahia, Honduras

Best wishes to all our veterans.  We are grateful.

La Peregrina is back in the islands!   When I last wrote, we were excited about spending a few days sailing Guatemala's Lago Izabal.  I was particularly looking forward to dinghying around in the upper tributaries which were reported to be full of monkeys, toucans, and crocodiles.   In the company of s/v Seraphim and her English crew, Tim and Philipa Green, we headed up the lake on Tuesday, November 1st.  We had a beautiful anchorage off Denny’s Beach that night, and enjoyed our peaceful escape from the bustle of Rio Dulce Town and its noisy bridge.  

La Peregrina anchored in Laguna Salvador

But our good luck didn’t last long.  I broke a molar that first night out.  There was no pain, but I had a big hole in my mouth, and ignoring it seemed like inviting trouble.  So on Wednesday, we motored back to Rio Dulce Town.  I made a dental appointment for the next day.  In the wee hours of Thursday morning, Maribeth ferried me across the river in the dinghy where I caught the 3:00 a.m. bus to Guatemala City.  After a six hour bus ride and a 15 minute cab ride, I got to spend three hours in a Guatemalan dentist’s office.  It was a very good experience.  It was as modern and efficient a dental office as any I’ve seen in the U.S.   The service was better.  The price was drastically lower.  Sporting my new dental onlay, I caught the 5:00 pm bus back to Rio Dulce, and shortly after midnight I was back aboard La Peregrina.  

Two young Mayan fishermen in their ancient, broken cayuco on Laguna Salvador

We were disappointed our exploration of Lago Izabal hadn’t worked out.  But our aborted excursion had given us confidence that La Peregrina was ready for travel.  So at mid-day on Friday, November 4, we finished saying our goodbyes, raised our anchor, and left Rio Dulce Town.  We had made a fast trip up the Rio back in June, so we lingered on the way back down.  We spent one night in gorgeous Laguna Salvador, just off El Golfete.  There, we were visited by a couple of young women paddling a very leaky cayuco.   The boat had been hollowed out from a single tree, apparently quite a long time ago. 

Maribeth with Catery y Amelia, our new Mayan friends

When they arrived alongside La Peregrina, the boat had two inches of water in the bottom, and I noticed that the older sister was using her foot to keep a rag stuffed in a 10-inch split in the hull.  We invited them aboard, and the cayuco quickly filled with water.  The girls were unconcerned.  They visited awhile, then climbed back in their swamped little boat.  I expected it to sink immediately.  But one sister started bailing, and the other sister started paddling with one foot over the hole.  Our new young Mayan friends and their trusted cayuco glided easily away.   

On Saturday, we visited a manatee refuge, where we had a fascinating dinghy ride up a narrow creek, saw amazing armies of ants, and got drenched in the rain, but saw no manatees.  We had a quiet night anchored in Texan Bay that night.  As we do most Sunday mornings, we enjoyed a big breakfast with coffee and Baileys.  I piddled with a few boat chores, and then we finally made the short trip through the impressive Rio Dulce gorge back to Livingston.  On Monday morning, we checked out of Guatemala with mixed emotions.  What a fascinating country!  

Gilligan and Mary Ann

It was a surprisingly quick trip east to the Bay Islands of Honduras.  We had expected to be beating against easterly trade winds.  Instead, we were blessed with light westerlies.  So, after anchoring off Cabo Tres Puntas the first night, we motor-sailed virtually the entire way to Roatan, and anchored at West End at dawn on Wednesday, about 42 hours after leaving Livingston.  We are tied up now at Fantasy Island Marina, stuck here until we finish the clear-in process.  The Honduran authorities seem to be in no hurry.  Bob and Terrie Carlton will join us tomorrow.  We are looking forward to their visit!

Check our SailLaPeregrina on Instagram.  And find our location by clicking this link:

http://share.findmespot.com/shared/faces/viewspots.jsp?glId=0YlaJhqedjWOR0R0VymNUvLKqY4mhKChe

It's nice to be back in the islands!  Roatan, Islas de Bahia, Honduras

October 31, Rio Dulce, Guatemala

It's been more than a month since we returned to Guatemala and we've grown quite fond of the place. 

Time is different here.  When we Americans think of our history, we might start with our independence in the 18th century, or with the pilgrims in the 17th, or maybe with Columbus 500 years ago.  Our family histories typically trace back to Europe or Africa.   Our country is new, and I always assumed that was true in all the Americas.  

It is not true in Guatemala.  Here, the Mayans are huge portions of the population, and their story goes back millennia.  There is 3000 years of recorded history here, written in the few books the conquistadors did not burn, and chiseled in thousands of hieroglyphs throughout the countryside - complete with the names of the protagonists and precise dates for key events.  These are people whose ancestors have been here for thousands of years.  This is their only motherland.  The Spanish conquest in the 1500s was one more chapter in these people's long story:  not the beginning, and not the end.  This makes everything in Guatemala seem a little timeless, primordial, mystical, different.

The Mayans are quiet, humble people.  Almost none speak English.  They speak Spanish as a second language, but their first language - the language they speak at home - is one of the 20-something Mayan languages that thrive here.  Unlike much of the Caribbean, the people here do not hustle sailors, and never ask for handouts.  Physically, they are small.  The average Mayan woman is only 4' 8" tall, and the average Mayan man is 5' 2".  They do not, however, look underfed.  Some are quite round.  

The town here - officially Fronteras on the north side of the river, and Relleno on the south side of the river - is unofficially called Rio Dulce Town on both sides of the river.  There are few cars here.   It is buses and large trucks carrying cattle, fuel, or merchandise that clog the roads.  Motorcycles seem the most common conveyance used by locals.  It is common to see three people on a motorcycle, or even an attractive young woman in a little black dress and high heels.  Otherwise, people get around on tuk-tuks, little three-wheeled vehicles which carry five people or more, and do it very inexpensively.  

The main road through town is dangerously narrow, and we frequently glance over our shoulders for coming traffic as we walk.  Mayan women wearing traditional brightly-colored huipiles sell fruits and vegetables from tiny stands.  Children of five or six walk barefoot hawking chewing gum or plantain chips for 2 or 3 quetzales (30 or 40 cents.)  Women flip fresh tortillas or grilled chicken with their bare fingers as the smell of their propane and wood fires mixes with the aroma of diesel smoke and cow manure.  A young man stands next to the open door of his van, offering customers a ride to the next town:  "Morales, Morales, Morales!"  The deafening sound of jack brakes punctures the air as an 18-wheeler descends the Puente Rio Dulce to the traffic jam below.  A middle aged man wearing blue jeans and a cowboy hat jumps out of his truck and purchases a coca-cola before the bus in front of him starts moving again.  It is a grimy, smelly, chaotic delight of a little town.

Like trolls in the fairy tales, we sailors live our lives under the bridge and below the town.  There are several marinas clustered together here on the Rio Dulce, each with its own character.  Mar Marina and Tortugal attract boaters with their weekly movie nights.  At the appropriate hour, lanchas are sent around to the other marinas to pick up customers for the evening's dinner, drinks, and cinema.  Nana Juana has a boat yard and a Travel Lift big enough to raise the largest catamarans.   Bruno's has a free dinghy dock and a monthly swap meet where boaters trade or sell no-longer-wanted "treasures from the bilge."  SunDog has pizza, and Marvin's Shack has great music and decent hamberguesas.  It's all a strange and wondrous little world.  

Here at RAM Marina, we have nearly everything a sailor might want during hurricane season: a huge boatyard; a fuel dock; a convenience store/restaurant; a West Marine store; a covered workshop area with a drill press, a vice, and a grinder; and an air conditioned boaters lounge with wifi.  The workers here are the best I've found anywhere.  They are highly-skilled, professional, friendly people.  And they are cheap:  $50 per day.   (This is perhaps why they are so good.  When the hourly rate is low, people take the time to do things right.)

RAM Marine from Puente Rio Dulce

We took two trips inland.  We spent six days traveling west to Guatemala City and Antigua.  Guatemala City is a large, modern city with a couple million people, a Walmart, and at least one shopping mall with all the same stores we have in malls back home.  The people here are mostly Ladinos.  They are descended from the Spanish, they are taller and paler than the Mayans, and they embrace western culture enthusiastically.  Antigua, for us, was a welcome retreat from the busy city.  It is a quaint old colonial city nestled in a valley below three volcanoes.  It was built by the Spanish in the 1540s as Guatemala's first capital, but was destroyed by earthquakes three times before the capital was moved to Guatemala City.  We stayed in an AirBnB on a quiet edge of Antigua, a short walk from everything in town. Our host, Evelyn, was wonderful, and the house was amazing:  the center of the house was open to the sky - no air conditioning or heating is needed in Antigua - with a rooftop patio for watching the volcanoes belch.  And we had a fabulous dinner with Bill Harriss, a former HIYC member now residing in Antigua.  It is easy to understand how one might come to Guatemala and never leave.

Antigua, from Cerro de Cruz

El Arco de Santa Catalina with Volcan de Agua behind, Antigua

We also took a trip north.  We were among 70 people on a bus with 44 seats.  I stood in the aisle for 3 hours.  Two overweight men with legs sprawled feigned sleep in the seat to my left.  A family of five, including a nursing infant and luggage, shared the two seats to my right.  I stood with my arms outstretched, clinging to handrails on either side above me, and imagined crucifiction.  We (finally) arrived in Flores, a delightful little tourist village on a small island on a lake.  From there we took the 3:00 am shuttle to the Mayan ruins at Tikal, where we sat atop Temple IV, listening to the jungle come alive as the sun rose behind the clouds.  (Howler monkeys sound like dinosaurs!)  Tikal was occupied for about 1800 years, starting in about 900 BC.  It was a large and wealthy city; there are literally thousands of stone and mortar buildings there, most still covered by earth and foliage.  An amazing place, full of critters and ghosts.

The Jungle Comes Alive; Sunrise at Tikal

One of the temples at Tikal

The sailing community is bustling right now, as many boats are preparing to leave the Rio for adventures East, South, and North.  We've been busy also, taking on dozens of little boat chores.  We've re-stitched and re-sealed canvas, varnished the cap rails and moustache, removed and re-bedded a port light, polished stainless steel, and finally replaced our aged freshwater pump.  We've got a couple more little items we want to address, and then we're off sailing again.  We can't wait!  

Our immediate plan is to head first upstream, further away from the salty sea.  A brief exploration of huge Lago Izabal will be a shake-down cruise before we leave the resources of Rio Dulce behind.  Then we'll head east, back to the Bay Islands of Honduras.  The Carltons will join us there for a week.   Captain Howard is also planning to join us later in November.  You should be planning your visit to La Peregrina also!  

You can follow our progress by using this link:

http://share.findmespot.com/shared/faces/viewspots.jsp?glId=0YlaJhqedjWOR0R0VymNUvLKqY4mhKChe

And check out SailLaPeregrina on Instagram.

Happy Halloween to everyone!

September 23, 2016: Houston, Texas

Fall is here, and hurricane season ends in a few weeks, so we're heading back to La Peregrina.  

We came back to the states in July, since it is unwise to sail during hurricane season.  It's been a great summer.  What a treat to see family and tribe again!  We visited Jade in Houston, Mom and Julie and Cameron in Pittsburgh, Molly in Denver, and many wonderful friends in Tennessee and Colorado.  We are enormously grateful to everyone who provided a bed, meals, cocktails, and storage space.  Regrettably, we didn't get to the Carolinas as we had hoped.  We visited the doctors and the dentist.  We helped Molly move from Denver into her new apartment in East Nashville.  It was a busy time, and we loved it.

I spent much of the summer hiking the Colorado Trail, the 500 mile walk from Denver to Durango.  It was a little more solitary tha I had expected, and a little harder on the old man's body.  On the very first day out, I tripped on my own shoelaces, fell on my face, and then brandished a beautiful black eye for the next two weeks.  I was charged by a moose, but managed to scare her off (probably the black eye did it.)  I got stuck on a high ridge in a lightning storm, hunkered down in willows in the cold rain.  But mostly it was just a whole lot of walking, up and down and up and down and up and down.   I met some fascinating people, and saw some spectacular scenery.  Here's a video:  

On September 21st, the last day of summer, Maribeth and I threw our backpacks into the back of the car and drove out of Nashville.  We've enjoyed spending the last couple days with Jade.  We're now at Houston Hobby airport awaiting our flight to Belize City.  Tomorrow we'll travel by bus, ferry, and water taxi and hopefully reach Rio Dulce, Guatemala late tomorrow evening.  We're anxious to see how La Peregrina has handled being closed up for three months in the humid tropics.  We have a little work to do on the boat, and we'd like to do some inland exploration of Guatemala.  But within a few weeks, we hope to be sailing again.

Don't forget, you are invited to come join us.  Let us know when or where you'd like to come, and we'll start working on the details.

Joe and Maribeth 

A Retrospective: The Plan

Way back in March, 2008, Maribeth and I decided to commit our plan to writing.  We called it "The Five Year Plan," but it reflected a plan we had first discussed three years earlier, and a dream we had been nurturing for nearly twenty years.   

As it turned out, of course, the plan didn't come to fruition until 2016.  And we ended up with a 34-foot Cabo Rico instead of a bigger boat.  ObamaCare solved our health insurance problem.  

Implementing the plan was terrifying, and we had many doubts along the way.  We realized we'd have to quit our jobs, which seemed irresponsible, even dangerous.  We began to call it “Our Year of Living Dangerously.”  But the years were flying by (still are) and we felt it was now or never.   

We're now three quarters of the way through our year.  By the criteria we set eight years ago, we're succeeding.  So far.  We've got a very few more months of sailing remaining, and then we must face the "get new job when back" part of the plan.  I think we'll be ready for it.

July 1, 2016: Belize City International Airport

We took four days to sail from Guanaja to Livingston, Guatemala.  We had glorious, fast sails to Roatan the first day, and to Utila the second day.  Each day offered 20 knot winds from the ESE, and La Peregrina seemed to enjoy the romp downwind under genoa alone.  Each of these islands is unique and inviting.  We would love to come back and spend more time exploring them.  It was an overnight sail from Utila to Livingston in generally light air, though we had a thunderstorm during my midnight to 4 a.m. watch with 44 knot winds and a deluge of rain.  Maribeth slept through it, oblivious to the whole thing. Clearly, she's become accustomed to travel under sail.

Guatemala promises much to see and do.  The motor up the Rio Dulce from Livingston to Frontera is spectacular.  After months of open salt water, we suddenly found ourselves on a narrow ribbon of green fresh water squeezed between 300-foot walls of limestone and jungle.   There are hundreds of thatch-roofed houses along the river, and a handful of restaurants and tiendas.  There are no roads, so all travel is by boat.  Everyone seems to have a cayuco, a traditional boat that sits low in the water and is paddled like a canoe.  There are also water taxis and ferries with outboard motors that carry larger parties up and down the river.  On El Golfete, a natural lake along the way, fishermen use traditional techniques as pelicans float nearby, hoping for a free lunch.  We did the trip in a few hours, but could easily spend several days getting to know it better.

There is a tall bridge over the river at the town of Frontera, which, confusingly, is also referred to as "Rio Dulce."  Here is where hundreds of sailboats that have traveled the Caribbean Sea since the fall are now waiting out hurricane season.   We are much better protected from storms here than we ever were in New Orleans (we weathered 2 hurricanes in our 6 years there.)  The town is interesting and busy.  There are Mayans here!  I guess I assumed the conquistadors had wiped them all out.  But they are still very much alive and well, very distinctive in their appearance and culture, even if they are no longer in charge.  There are also a few Garifunas, and many Creole, which are a mix of Spanish, African, and Amerindian.  And a bunch of salty, weathered sailors.

We haven't really seen much yet.  We had La Peregrina hauled out of the water for the summer.  We'll repair the damage to the keel that resulted from hitting the reef at Crooked Island on March 30, and she'll be given a fresh coat of bottom paint.  But first, we'll head back to Estados Unidos, the good old U.S. of A., the land of abundance, home sweet home.  As I write this, we sit in the airport bar at the international airport in Belize City, waiting to board our flight to Houston.  It's been quite the adventure getting here from Rio Dulce, involving taxis, a "ferry," a bus, and some interesting strangers.  We should be in Middle Tennessee sometime this weekend.

Happy July 4 to everyone.  We are excited to see you all!

Joe

June 18, 2016: Guanaja, Bay Islands of Honduras

We raised anchor at daybreak on June 8, motored out of Governors Harbor, and raised sails as we headed towards the channel leading out of Grand Cayman's North Sound.  Our intention was to sail the 460 miles or so to Livingston, Guatemala.  But we had several potential intermediate stops if necessary. 

It was an excellent passage.  The wind was SE at 15 to 20.   We were heading WSW, so it was a fast, relatively comfortable reach.  We did 4 hour watches, and the nights passed easily.  On the second day, we crossed paths with several large freighters on routes between the Yucatan Channel and the Panama Canal.  Late in the day we passed the Swan Islands (Isla de Santillas.)  We never came close enough to see land, but a big lumbering Honduran military plane (maybe a DC3?) flew out from the island and circled us.  We waved.

Each morning we listen to Chris Parker's weather broadcast on the single sideband radio.  On the third morning, he spoke of winds building to 30 knots or more.  We were only 45 miles or so from Guanaja, the eastern most of the Bay Islands of Honduras.  So we determined to make the stop and rest for a couple days until the weather settled down.

And so we found Paradise.   Guanaja offers all the best of Caribbean landfalls.  It is a gorgeous mountainous island covered in pines and palms, and surrounded by clear blue water.  It has cheap good beer, free protected anchorages, friendly people, excellent food, abundant easily accessible great-tasting water, outstanding snorkeling (the healthiest, most diverse coral reefs we've found,) and mountain hikes with clear cool waterfalls.  

There are 8 other sailboats in our anchorage tonight:  three from France, two from Canada, one from England, and two from the U.S.  There are a couple of nearby restaurants where we gather, mingle with the locals, and try to tell stories in our respective languages.  It sounds like the Tower of Babel, but somehow we understand each other.

We took a three day circumnavigation around the island, staying for two nights in a beautiful quiet anchorage on the relatively unpopulated north side of the island. We celebrated our 32nd wedding anniversary there with margaritas in the cockpit.  No other sailors, no cell phone service, no internet, no radio traffic, but one really impressive sunset.  Excellent.

We kinda just wanna stay here.  If tribe and family were here, we would.  But we're now 8 days into our two day rest stop, hurricane season threatens, and we feel pressure to get to Rio Dulce.  Early tomorrow morning we will head west.  Our plan is to leave the boat in Guatemala, and return to the states for a couple months.  If things go according to plan, we'll be in Nashville on or about July 4.  Can't wait to see everyone!

June 7, 2016: Governor's Harbor, Grand Cayman

Jade flew into Montego Bay on May 16th, and three days later we were on our way to Jamaica's Blue Mountains.  Our goal was to climb Blue Mountain Peak.  At 7,402 feet, it is higher than any point east of the Mississippi in the U.S., and the highest point in Jamaica.

It is only about 80 miles from Oracabessa to Mavis Bank, the highest settlement on the mountain.  But it took all day to get there.  The mountain roads are incredible:  narrow, curvy, full of deep holes, and amazingly steep.  They drive on the left in Jamaica, and the steering wheel of our rental car was on the right, so I was constantly fighting my instincts and habits.  When trying to signal a turn, I turned on the windshield wipers instead. The road is wide enough for only one vehicle, but we regularly drove into the bushes when confronting cars (or trucks!) going the opposite direction at ridiculous speeds.  The road is often gravel or dirt, and a couple creeks must be forded.  There are a few terrifying bridges, 10 feet wide, with no railing, hanging 50 feet or more above a mountain gorge.  At one point, the road was so steep that the car would not go further until Maribeth and Jade got out and walked.  (I know, I know, it should have been my fat butt walking!)  Even after all that, we still could not drive to our planned destination.  A phone call, some haggling over price, and soon we were in a 4 wheel drive van, jostling and bouncing the last few miles to Jah B's Rastafarian hostel.  

Jah B's is an amazing place with a sublime view.  In addition to running the hostel for visitors to the Blue  Mountains, Jah B and his family grow organic vegetables and, most importantly, coffee plants.   (Blue Mountain coffee is among the best in the world.)

The crew of La Peregrina with Jah B, the Rastafarian hosteler and Blue Mountain coffee grower

We climbed out of our bunks at 1:30 a.m. and were soon hiking toward the summit.  Thick clouds develop over these mountains during most days, so our plan was to reach the peak for a sunrise panorama. The hike was extraordinary:  a cloudless night, a bright full moon, the lights of Kingston below.  But cold fog developed on the summit just as we arrived, and we were denied our view.  Still, it was a memorable adventure. 

We spent the remainder of Jade's visit exploring the north coast of Jamaica.  We sailed west from Oracabessa back to St. Ann's Bay, a vibrant community with a fascinating market, and then on to Falmouth Harbor and finally Montego Bay, which is called "Mobay" by the locals.  

We bid Jade a sad farewell on May 25th, but happily welcomed my sister Julie.  We stayed a few days anchored at the Montego Bay Yacht Club, where we enjoyed the showers, pool, bar, wifi, and restaurant.  I got my first haircut in 3 months, and we stocked up at an excellent grocery store.  

.

On Saturday, the 28th, we set sail for the Cayman Islands.  Julie was apprehensive, but proved to be excellent crew.  It was a two-day passage in relatively light winds dead astern, and we motored more than I preferred.

Grand Cayman is a pleasant place.  We tied up to a free mooring just off Georgetown for four nights where we found great snorkeling off the back of the boat.  An approaching tropical wave persuaded us to make the four hour trip around to North Sound and into well-protected Governor's Harbor, where we remain anchored today.  For eight days now, we have been enjoying the luxuries of this affluent island.  There is an excellent and inexpensive bus service that makes seeing the island easy.  We found a chandlery where I obtained proper parts to replace some of my temporary fixes.  We hiked the Mastic Trail and visited the Botanical Garden.  Maribeth made some outstanding meals with fresh tuna purchased from a local fisherman.  

The low pressure system has now moved north and become tropical storm Colin.  The winds are moderating here, and we are preparing to raise anchor and begin our passage to Guatemala.  It is about 450 miles, the longest crossing we have ever done without additional crew.   But the boat is ready, the forecast is good, we get daily updates via SSB, and we can stop in the Swan Islands or the Bay Islands of Honduras if necessary.  It might just be a blast!

We'll be out of touch for a few days. Best to all of you, and Happy Birthday to Tom Sharp.  We look forward to seeing you all soon.

May 15, 2016: St. Ann's Bay, Jamaica

We've been in Jamaica for 24 days now.  20 of those days were in Port Antonio, where we found ourselves stuck waiting for a part to arrive for our diesel engine.  We stayed at Errol Flynn Marina, and the living was easy.  We had all the water we wanted, showers every day, a friendly and inexpensive bar, and an assortment of fascinating people.  Port Antonio is a gorgeous spot.  Mountains and clouds reminiscent of the Smokies hang over the town and its harbors.  It rains 300 inches a year there, which is six times what Nashville gets.  

To make a long story short, the motor is fixed and now runs better than ever.  We are sailing again, heading east a few miles at a time.  

We're getting to know this beautiful, funky, misunderstood island.  I think I expected gangsters.  Instead, we've found the people here to be friendly, polite, and religious.  Young men in their school uniforms help old ladies carry their groceries.  Young families in their Sunday best take pictures under breadfruit trees.  A few Jamaicans are desperately poor, and they are not hard to find.  A very few, we are told, are obscenely wealthy, but they keep themselves hidden away. 

We don't quite blend in when we visit these little Jamaican towns.  I haven't seen another white man in a few days now.  It's an experience, a perspective, more people should have.  The Jamaicans make us feel welcome.

We're off the beaten path now, and have been for a few weeks.  We rarely have other boats in our anchorages, and the few sailors we encounter seem more likely to be European or Australian than American.  

We are anchored tonight in the exact spot where Christopher Columbus anchored his boat to do repairs about 510 years ago. The water is 30 feet deep here, with flat land only 100 feet to the south, and a reef 100 feet to the north.  It is a unique, extremely well-protected and comfortable spot.

We're very excited that Jade is flying in tomorrow!  She'll be with us for 10 days, and we hope to see much more of Jamaica with her.  Then, my sister Julie will join us for our crossing to the Cayman Islands.

We are really missing tribe and family.  Can't wait to see you all!  We wish you the very best.  

Good night.

April 24, 2016: Port Antonio, Jamaica

We were fortunate to have the opportunity to visit Cuba on a people to people exchange.  It is about 180 nautical miles from Great Inagua to Santiago de Cuba, with no place to stop along the way.  The route goes south 100 miles through the Windward Passage, and then turns west along Cuba's mountainous south coast for 80 miles.  The forecast called for east winds at 20 knots.  Perfect.   On April 12, we left Man of War Bay and sailed 100 miles south on a single port tack.  The first night brought stronger winds, uncomfortable seas, a squall, and scary ship traffic.  (I wish I'd added that AIS.) But the following day and night were wonderful sailing along a beautiful, seemingly uninhabited range of mountains. We found that the wind was more favorable, and the sea flatter, if we sailed close to the coast, so we gradually steered to within a mile and a half of land.  Then, we were honored to have the U.S. Coast Guard escort us 4 nautical miles offshore as we passed Guantanamo Bay.  They had a fast boat and a big gun, but were quite polite, so I put up no argument.  We arrived outside Santiago Harbor, below Castile de Morro, at daybreak.  We had some difficulty starting the motor, but finally dropped anchor at the marina at Punta Gorda by mid-morning on the 14th.

Cuba is a beautiful, fascinating country.  Unlike anywhere else on our voyage so far, Santiago de Cuba is surrounded by gorgeous mountains.  Nearby Pico Turquino is as tall as Clingman's Dome.  Santiago de Cuba has a reputation as a filthy industrial harbor, but we found it to be clean and attractive.  The people are friendly and hard-working.  Crime is essentially non-existent, and we always felt safe.  Of course, the socialist system works poorly and is rife with low-level corruption.  (A small tip here and there makes the system work better.)  Regular jobs don't pay enough to survive, so everyone - everyone - has some hustle going to make extra money.  Offering tourists special deals on cigars or rum, or leading you on a tour, or doing your laundry, or delivering jugs of diesel fuel, or bringing customers to a paladar (a privately owned restaurant, usually in someone's home) are common.  These are very enterprising people.  

A highlight  of our visit was being invited for dinner to the home of Pedro and Rosa and their three children Pochito, Roxanna, and Clara.  We had roast goat, a beautiful tomato and cucumber salad, potatoes, and rice and beans.  Maribeth brought a pasta salad and a bottle of wine.  Pedro poured two fingers of rum, straight up.  We struggled with language (our Spanish is worse than their English,) but managed to have a delightful evening, even managing conversations about religion and politics.  By our economic standards, Pedro and Rosa are quite poor.  But they are well-educated, curious about the world, open-minded, and amazingly resourceful. Wonderful people, and not so poor, really.

Shopping district in Santiago de Cuba

The Cubans have devised a rather clever money system involving two currencies.  There is the "CUC," pronounced "kook," exchangeable for other currencies and used by foreigners.  And there is the "peso national," used by the Cubans.  The effect is that foreigners pay much more than do locals for the same goods and services.  After a few days, we learned how to play the system and things got drastically cheaper for us.  We bought pizzas for 32 cents, ice cream cones for 8 cents, and splurged on large bottles of Havana Club rum for 6 dollars.

Regrettably, La Peregrina's motor issue got worse.  I could no longer start the motor.  The marina provided a diesel mechanic (no charge, though I privately tipped him $20) who determined that sea water was getting into the cylinders (but not, thank goodness, into the crank case.)  The diagnoses ranged from "motor finit," to a blown head gasket ("junta",) to a bad mixing elbow. 

So there we were in Cuba without a functioning motor, and no way to get parts.  (Americans cannot have parts shipped into Cuba.)  The Cubans assured us they could fabricate a head gasket or a mixing elbow, but they couldn't say how long it would take, or how much money.  Or, we could sail to Jamaica.  

As much as I despise running the motor, the prospect of sailing 115 nautical miles over open ocean and then entering an unfamiliar harbor in Jamaica without a motor was rather daunting.  There was no other good choice.

The wind blows out of Santiago harbor each morning, and the tide would also be falling on the morning of April 20.  We ensured the batteries were fully charged and the water tanks full, and unfurled the genoa at 9:00 am and drifted slowly toward open water.  In an hour we had sailed through the narrow harbor entrance and sat just offshore, bobbing for 2 or 3 hours in dead calm air.  Frustrated at noon, I opened a beer.  Immediately, the wind rose and we set off on a southerly course toward Jamaica.  Who says they don't brew good beer in Cuba?

The passage between Cuba and Jamaica was very pleasant.  Maribeth has been a very competent sailor for a long time, but now has gained confidence, and she put her skills to good use on this crossing.  We did 2 hour watches, and sailed fast through the night.  At dawn, we were three miles north of the Jamaican coast, with its tall mountains and, that morning, looming clouds and rain.  There, we hit a wall.  The wind suddenly died, or blew on our nose, though 8 foot northeast swells remained.  The current pushed us west.  We tried hard to make way in the right direction, but could not.  We sailed back north again, where we found the wind and made a second approach.  Once again, we got close to shore and we could see the waves crashing on either side of the entrance to Port Antonio, but we could not get there.

I surmised that we were fighting the morning land breeze and that the afternoon would bring a more favorable wind.  But Maribeth, who is smarter and less stubborn than me, chose not to wait.  She radioed Port Antonio's Errol Flynn Marina and soon the Jamaican Coast Guard was on its way to rescue us.  Four young men in an old 20 foot center-console motor launch soon appeared 50 feet to starboard. They had no lines, nor a proper cleat on their boat, and none of us knew precisely what to do.  I rigged a bridle on the bow, attached a spare halyard, and with all my strength tossed the loose end into the Jamaican boat.  Suddenly we were being towed, through the pouring rain, into the blessedly protected waters of Port Antonio.  I sat on the bow, watching the tow line go slack and then tighten like a guitar string.  Would it snap?  And if it did, which way would we drift?  "Joe, let's not tell anyone about this," Maribeth pleaded.  (Ah, but the truth will set us free.)

By 10:00 on the 21st, we were tied up at the Marina.  The senior coast guard officer, who may have been 25, came by our boat and had me sign a report describing the morning's event.  He was professional and friendly.   There would be no cost to us.  "This is our job.  We would do it again if you needed us."   Maribeth offered his crew a small bottle of Jack Daniels, which they accepted graciously.  I hired a mechanic, who has determined not only that the mixing elbow is bad, but that the turbocharger has been gone for a long time.  Parts are not available in Jamaica, so we must find parts and get them shipped here.

Errol Flynn Marina in Port Antonio, Jamaica.  La Peregrina is at bottom left, partially obscured.

In the meantime, Port Antonio is a gorgeous place; a beautiful harbor surrounded by the Blue Mountains with peaks more than 7000 feet tall. It has rained for three straight days, a radical change from the past three months.  The town is reported to have a population of about 13,000, though it seems smaller.  This is not where we planned or expected to be, but it is a good place, and we're having a blast.  

Clive the Banana Man stopped by our boat every morning, offering bananas and mangos for sale.

We are very hopeful we can find crew for our trip to Guatemala's Rio Dulce.  If you have interest, please let us know and we'll talk dates and locations.  We miss you all a great deal. 

Joe