Buenos Dias

Isla Chivas.  What can I say?  We threaded our way in through the reef at midmorning.  Warning buoys surrounded the Isla alerting to “unexploded ordinance”.  Having read previous posts, we knew that the warnings pertained to expeditions to shore, not for anchoring.  We coasted in to 12’ of water, and searched for a sandy patch to drop our hook.  Suz expertly put the Girl’s bow over a white area, and I dropped the anchor dead center.  Backing down, the anchor bit on the first try.  We didn’t bother to launch “White Star”, instead got the kayaks wet.  Our azure blue anchorage was ringed by white sand beaches-a postcard perfect setting.  Kayaked around the bay, then walked the beaches, searching for “treasures” most of the day.  We scored lots of beach glass, and some small urchins for our collection.  Suz found a nice Helmet shell, but it was inhabited, so we threw him back, not wanting to ruin his day.  Numerous signs on shore admonished us to follow the 3 R’s-Recognize, Retreat, and Report, concerning unexploded ordinance on shore.  We didn’t see nuthin’.  Returning to Alizann, we polished some of her stainless, giving her some much-needed love.  Late afternoon brought in two ultra-lights with floats landing in the bay, providing a show for us.  Dinner, Tuscan chicken in the Admiral’s new electric InstaPot, was taken over another sublime sunset.

We were off the hook by 07h00.  The Admiral was crackin’ the whip for some fresh fish.  I rigged up some Ballyhoo baits, and we headed for deep water on the way to Culebra, our next Spanish Virgin Island destination.  All we got to show for our efforts was one Toothacuda, and 2 spoiled baits.  Our Christmas present from our son, a baby monitor, however, performed admirably.  When the fishing reel in the cockpit started spooling out, we heard it loud and clear, even over the music crankin’  in the pilothouse.  We love technology!  By 13h45 we had the hook set in the bay out of Dewey, (named for the Admiral) Culebra.  We planned to stay here for a couple of days while we explored the island.  After getting the boat squared away, we headed to shore in the dinghy on a quick reconnaissance mission.  It only took an hour to walk all of the streets of Dewey.  The little village was quite colorful, with gaily painted buildings, and many murals.  We found that the “Dinghy Dock” restaurant/bar had a happy hour(s) with Medalla beers for two-fifty, but more importantly, the fastest internet connection that we had seen in a long time.  Instead of taking 2-3 minutes (or more) to upload a picture, we could get one up in around 30 seconds.  Bonus!  Let’s have another beer.  We were feeling the need for some exercise, so the following morning, we loaded the backpacks with our beach togs, and headed to Flamenco Beach, (another) one of the most beautiful beaches in the world.  It was a good three-mile haul, and we were rewarded with a truly beautiful beach, where we spent the day snoozin’, swimmin’, and strollin’.  At one end of the mile-long beach was an old U.S. Army tank, slowly being reclaimed by the sea.

That kinda brings us to the U.S. military presence on Vieques/Culebra.  During the 1940’s, the U.S. Navy purchased around 22,000 acres (or, about 2/3 of the island of Vieques) for military purposes.  The Eastern end of the island was used for live-fire exercises, including ship to shore, and air to ground bombing.  The Western end of the island was used as an ammunition depot.  In around 2003, the Navy ceased operations, and returned the island to the Puerto Rican government.  Since that time, the U.S. government has spent around $220 M to clean up contaminated lands on Vieques.  Given the terrain (jungle and heavy overgrowth), the cleanup is far from complete.  Thus, the numerous warning signs around certain areas of the island.  No political commentary-Just sayin’.

Today, the 25^th, we rented a jeep and did the beach tour of Culebra.  We visited every beach on the map, sometimes traversing rocky two-tracks to get there.  Didn’t do much sunbathing, but we saw and walked them all.  The peanut butter and jelly sandwiches were good, but didn’t stick to the ribs, so when we returned to town we headed to the “Dinghy Dock”.  The Grouper sandwich and the Ahi/Romaine salad hit the spot, washed down with some cold Cokes.  Before we headed back to the Girl, we strolled over to “Mamacita’s” for a couple of Bushwackers (as recommended by friends at Palmas).  Tomorrow, we’ll head over to Culebrita with the Girl, to do some SCUBA diving, after which we plan to anchor in Almodovar Bay, back on Culebra, for a couple of days before we head to St. Croix in the U.S. Virgin Islands.  I’m guessin’ no interweb for awhile, so…..

-Later

Feliz ano Nuevo,

The trip back to the States was outta sight.  We stayed at Suzanne’s sister and brother-in-law’s home atop a mountain outside of Asheville, North Carolina.  Their home is large enough to accommodate the whole fam damily, and it’s always a nonstop party from the minute we arrive.  After a couple of days of one on one time with Mike and Sheila, the rest of the gang started rolling in.  Both of our kids and their spouses made it for a few days each, and we were able to see most of our nieces and nephews as well as all of Suz’s sibs and Mom.

After returning to Puerto Rico, and settling back into the marina, where Alizann had spent a couple of windy but uneventful weeks, we were ready for some exploration by land.  On the first day of the new year, our trusty little rentacar took us to El Yunque National Forest.  EYNF is the only U.S. national forest which is a tropical rainforest.  After hitting the visitors center for a quick orientation video, we hiked a couple of short loops, one of which took over a steamy trail running next to a river which culminated in a pretty waterfall.  Water dripped from the lush green foliage, and bromeliads sprouted from every fork in the trees branches.  Huge termite nests occupied many of the deciduous trees appearing like bulbous brown tumors.  Given the paucity of hikers along the trail, I was surprised at the number of folks swimming at the base of the waterfall, destroying the illusion of being in the wilderness.  The trip to the park was definitely worth it, and we agreed to a return engagement later in the week.

The next day took us to the giant radiotelescope at Arriceibo.  First conceived in 1960, and completed in 1963, the radiotelescope was, and is, the largest radiotelescope on the planet, with its’ 1,000-foot diameter spanning a large natural sinkhole in the Puerto Rican karst mountains.  Over the last 50-odd years, an incredible amount of ground breaking research has been done there, including one project which resulted in a Nobel prize.  The facility is not only capable of receiving radio signals and photons from deep space.  It also broadcast our first intergalactic “postcard” sometime in the 1970’s.  Studies ranging from identifying gravitational waves (creating proof of some of Einstein’s theories), following Near Earth Objects potentially capable of colliding with our planet, and, closer to home, studying our stratosphere, name just a few.  The facility is funded by NSF, the National Science Foundation, and researchers compete for time on the dish by submitting proposals, only the best of which are accepted.  We spent around 2 hours there, observing the dish from the visitor’s center, located high on the slope over it, and viewing an informative video.  That afternoon was not so high-brow.  We toured the Bacardi distillery, which was good fun, but maybe could have been better-I’d give 3 out of 5 stars.

Next day, it was back to El Yunque for the hike to the summit.  We started out surrounded by mostly deciduous trees, which transitioned to a Sierra Palm forest that gave way to scrubby bush as we ascended, and the soil got thinner.  Emerging at the top, we were treated to a spectacular 360-degree view.  A peanut butter and jelly sandwich never tasted so good.  The drive home took us by the huge (1000 slip)marina at Fajardo, rumored to be the largest in the entire Caribbean.  While having a snack at the restaurant there, we patted ourselves on the back for choosing to stay at Palmas.

Ya can’t come to Puerto Rico without experiencing Old San Juan.  Suzanne arranged for a private walking tour to start out our day, using an outfit called “Tours by Locals”.  Our guide Jorge, met us promptly at 09h00, and spent 4 hours with us, showing us the high points of the Old city.  He was extremely knowledgeable and personable, and the hours just flew by.  It was the first time that we hadn’t used our travel agent back home for a local guide in a new city, and we did so with some trepidation, but the experience was good, and the cost was a fraction of what we have spent in the past (whenever we explore a city that’s new to us, we always hire a guide so that we don’t miss the good stuff, and, from time to time get in the back door where tourists don’t tread)  By the time 13h00 rolled around, we had already exchanged reading lists with our guide who, by the way had a Masters in Microbiology and had been involved in some marine research (See Suzanne Tuck, Marine Biology and Freshwater Ecology).  We also questioned him about the company, Tours by Locals, and he told us that he was pretty happy with the way that they treated him, and was planning to keep them as his booking agents.  So……we’ll use them again in other cities.  We explored on our own for the rest of the afternoon, and returned the following day, primarily to tour the two Spanish forts, El Morro, and El Castillo, which guard this strategic entry into the Caribbean.

You can’t rent a car without having a “provisioning day”, so Sam’s, Walmart, and Ralph’s Wholesale Foods occupied most of the next day

Over the next few weeks, the wind continued to blow like stink, (we even heard that the cruise ships were staying in port up in San Juan) and since our reservation was for a months’ stay, we just enjoyed Palmas.  We walked most mornings, exploring many of the 2,700 acres in the facility.  Middays found us doing boatchores, including some varnishing around our windows inside the Girl, repairing some hairline gelcoat cracks, and re-sewing some of our Velcro closures on the canvas.  Afternoons at the pool overlooking the ocean were spent reading and sharing stories with our many new friends here at the marina.  Suz, our entertainment director, organized potluck dinners at the Tiki Bar (which just services the marina clients) on the night of the NCAA national championship, and due to the overwhelming positive response, the following week for the NFL playoff games.  While still here in the U.S.A., I was also able to take care of a little medical issue which was discovered over Christmas back in the States.  You know that we don’t eat out a whole lot, but we did a couple of times and have this to report:  The Punta Vista restaurant on the roof of the Hotel Milano in Old San Juan had an outdoor section, and served pretty decent Mofongo.  The Restaurant on the Plaza, here at Palmas, serves up very fresh Italian cuisine (we ate there twice).  The Mexican restaurant at Palmanova, here at Palmas also, was a “don’t bother”.  Our Tiki Bar served an awesome, half-pound (no exaggeration) bacon cheeseburger- the ultimate cure for the toomuchfunthenightbefore blues.  Outside Palmas, and up the Panorama Highway southwest of the gate was El Nuevo Horizonte perched on the side of the mountain overlooking the ocean.  The food there was pretty solid.  We just had lunch, but the guy at the table next to us was eating a whole flash-fried fish that looked super.  A couple miles outside the gate was the Delicia Café and Bakery, with delicious panini sandwiches, made on a half-loaf of Cuban bread, feeding 2 for $6.  (Stopped there 3 times).  In Ariceibo, the Salitre de Meson, had a beautiful outdoor dining area right on the beach.  With the waves crashing in, the food probably tasted better than it actually was.

Okay, so it’s the 19^th.  We’re 2 days past our intended stay of a month.  The wind dropped this morning like somebody flipped a switch, and the seas have been subsiding all day.  We have been expecting this break for almost a week, so will be heading to Vieques for a few days starting tomorrow.  Always bittersweet to leave newfound friends, but we’ll see some of them along the way, and there are new pals right around the corner.

So, as we start the New Year, our tally is: 4,197 nautical miles this year, 14,602 nautical miles since leaving Michigan.

-Hasta Luego

Ha sido un tiempo……

Sooo…. It was brought to my attention that I didn’t close the chapter on the stuck transmission lever.  One of the hazards of A.D.D., I guess-“oughta sight, oughta mind”.  After bleeding the lines, we’ve had no more trouble, but you can bet that we test it before coming into any tight spots now.  I guess that goof-ups are how you add to your list of “Standard Operating Procedures”.  Our list is getting pretty long by now.

On the subject of A.D.D., every time that I sit down to write, I come up with another little project to do instead.  Pretty soon a day becomes a week, a week a fortnight, and before long, a month has gone by.  Let’s catch up:

The 15^th of December dawned warm and sunny-81 degrees with a 10kn breeze.  Off the dock at 08h00, we were anchored in the bight at Isla Caja de Muertos by 09h45, in the company of 2 sailboats.  There are several versions as to how “Coffin Island” got its’ name.  My favorite is the story of a Portuguese pirate, Jose Almeida, who fell in love with, and married a Puerto Rican woman, taking her pirating with him.  The story goes that after she was killed by a stray bullet, he had her embalmed and entombed in a glass coffin, which he then proceeded to hide in a cave on the aforementioned island.  In the ensuing years, until he was captured and executed at El Morro fort in San Juan in 1832, he visited her tomb often, leaving half of his treasure there.  Many years later, a Spanish engineer located the coffin and gave the island its’ name.  No mention was made of the treasure.  The official story is that the island got its name, because the outline on the horizon looks like a human figure in repose-BORING!  The island is uninhabited now, save for a few Ponce Park rangers who maintain a small museum, picnic/swimming area, and automated weather station on the west end of the island.  Apparently, a ferry boat from Ponce lands at the decrepit dock near the anchorage on weekends, bringing daytrippers from the “mainland”.

We dropped “White Star” and headed north along the coast, looking for a sandy beach on the sharp limestone shore ringing the island.  There was a small patch of sand at the foot of a trail that we presumed led up to the lighthouse perched some 500 feet above the water, but the waves rolling in, and the rocky bottom precluded leaving the dinghy there.  Plan B.  We dropped Suz, the backpack and my clothes on the sand when the waves subsided for a minute or so, then moored the dinghy in deeper water.  It was a refreshing swim to shore.  The hike up to the lighthouse started in dense, scrubby vegetation, giving way to a cactus forest, finally ending in an arid zone at the top of the ridge where the lighthouse stood.  Built a couple of decades before the Americans received Puerto Rico in the Treaty of Paris after the Spanish-American War, its’ architecture is typical of the colonial style that is found around PR.  The lighthouse is totally abandoned, save for the automated light atop the tower there.  The view was nothing short of spectacular.After our morning hike, we went ashore at the other end of the island where the ranger station is located, and checked out the “museum”, which was actually an exhibit of posters describing the flora and fauna of the island and surrounding sea.  Besides the rangers and a couple of kids off of one of the anchored sailboats, we had the island to ourselves.

The anchor was up, and we were underway by 06h25 the next morning, with winds around 10kn.  When we reached the southeast corner of Puerto Rico, the night lee had dissipated, and we experienced a little bit of a rocky ride, with 20+kn winds blowing the tops off 2’-4’ seas on our nose.  After surfing the rock-lined channel into the marina at Palmas del Mar, we contacted Roberto, the dockmaster, who asked us to tie up at the fuel dock.  “Don’t need fuel, just direct us to our slip”.  Well…..we pulled in to the fuel dock, where Roberto and one of his guys got us secured.  When he asked us to get off the boat, I have to admit that I was a bit confused.  Turns out that he put us in his golf cart and drove us around the nearly-empty marina so that we could pick our slip.  Unheard of!  After he explained the pros and cons of the different docks (close to the office, a little more surge, a little less wind, and etc.), we settled on one far from the office/main gate, but with less surge.  The guys got us properly secured, and gave us some tips on line placement, delivered in a very nice tone, then drove us to the office, where we met Juanjo, the Marina’s general manager.  By the time that he finished his welcome orientation, we felt like we were checking into the Ritz, not a marina.  After he had arranged for a driver to take us to San Juan airport four days hence, and sensing some unease, he gave us his cell number, telling us that if there was any problem, that he’d take us himself.  More on Palmas

-Later

Buenos tardes,

Well, didn’t get a whole of sleep on Saturday, the night of our arrival.  Between the surge, causing us to saw back and forth, the creaking (not a strong enough word-maybe shrieking) of the lines as they alternately tightened around the PVC-sheathed steel pilings, and the at least 80 decibel music emanating from the numerous kiosks across the harbor until 02h00, sleep was an unrealized luxury.  We took a walk around the property, and met a couple standing by a pile of luggage in the parking lot.  They had come in the afternoon before, and were waiting for a cab to take them to the airport so that they could fly home.  Their Captain had just landed, and would take their boat to St. Croix, their home port, when the weather cooperated.  Perfecto!  We talked to the cab driver, Wilson, who agreed in much-less-than-perfect English, to take us in to Ponce when he returned with the Captain.  Well…..we weren’t too sure about the communication thing, but since he left an upright fan which he had taken out of the trunk with us as a hostage, and he had to bring the Captain back, we figured the odds of us getting to town were about 80-20, with the odds of us getting to Mass on time were around 40-60.  Thirty minutes later, with our pack loaded, and the Girl retied, we were starting to get a little worried.  That was just the start.  The cab rolled up.  The lady driving hopped out, and headed for the restroom.  Out popped Chris, the Captain, who couldn’t get away quick enough.  While Wilson bent his ear, he kept backing up.  Finally, he said “I gotta go”.  We asked him to keep an eye on our boat, the lady driver returned, and we were off.  Turns out that Wilson was drunk as a skunk.  As we roared down the highway, he regaled us with stories.  First, about how he knew everybody around here, his other car, a Cadillac SUV, then about how he was going to take us on a tour, give us a free gift and onandon.  All of this in sortaEnglish that we could barely piece together.  Interspersed, were asides to the driver in Spanish, spiced liberally with “F bombs”.  Finally, he got the point that we didn’t want a tour, we were just going to church (a concept that seemed very foreign to him).  Winding through the backstreets now, he turns around and says to us “Nothing is going to happen to you, I take care of you”.  We pop out of the barrio into the daylight, only to find that the street is barricaded.  Fortunately, there are 3 cops at the roadblock, and beyond, there is some kind of festival going on (sigh of relief).  Wilson gets out and tries to talk the cops into letting us through.  Nope, not happenin’.  Back up, turn down another sidestreet, wrong way on a one-way street, and we’re in front of the Catedral de Nuestra Senora de Guadalupe.  Ten bucks, “See ya, Wilson”, twenty steps and we’re in the safety of the Iglesia.  I had already done plenty of praying, but figured a little more couldn’t hurt.

Afterwards, we spent a couple of hours wandering around the city square, where the Christmas festival was winding down after a weeks’ run.  The downtown area in this, Puerto Rico’s second largest city, was evidently in a state of decline.  There were many empty storefronts, and it was very apparent that the infrastructure was crumbling through lack of maintenance.  Having had enough, we hailed a (different) cab and headed back to the Girl.  As we walked down the dock, we saw Chris working frantically with the lines on our boat.  Several had loosened, and in spite of the many fenders that we had hung, our Girl was slamming the concrete dock.  It was all he could do to hold the boat off in the 20+ kn wind and vicious surge.  Man, we arrived just in time.  There was no one else around to help him, and I dunno how long he could have held out.  We all got “Alizann” retied, but for the rest of the day, and the next, Suz and I were afraid to leave her.  Plus, the extra day gave me time to do some fiberglass repairs-all pretty minor, considering.  (Thank you, Chris).  Lines stretched, loosened, and had to be redone often.  All the while, the boat lurched forward, sprang back, and rotated, causing her to bounce between pilings.  No proper bow lines could be tied, as the slip was too short.  In a word, Miserable!  On the third day, a boat moved off a face dock.  After a half hour (or so) of conversation, the lady at the office consented to us moving to the face, where we could get some proper lines tied.  But…….we could only stay there 2 days, as another boat was coming in.  Sold!  We moved 15 minutes later.  Getting out of the slip was a challenge, but that’s another story.  We resurrected our cancelled rent-a-car reservation, and got a good nights’ sleep in readiness for our road trip to the coffee plantation.

So, let’s back up just a tad.  The night of the dock incident, we had Chris over for some enchiladas.  Nothing like an Irish gal cooking Mexican food in Puerto Rico.  His story goes like this:  Born in the States, his folks moved to St. Croix when he was eight.  He grew up there, and has worked on boats his whole life.  He is currently a harbor pilot in St. Croix, and moonlights as the Captain of the 62’ Ocean Alexander that his bosses left at the dock here in Ponce.  He’s worked for these folks for the past several years, and will be the Captain of their new 78’ Fleming that is nearing completion, and will be delivered soon.  It seems that the owners came in to PR from Dominican Republic without clearing Customs (it was the weekend).  They then left the boat and flew out, leaving Chris to deal with the paperwork on Monday.  Fortunately, the Customs folks saw things for what they were, knowing that Chris had nothing to do with this mess.  They didn’t confiscate the boat, and let the owners off with an $8,600 dollar fine.  (probably not even a hiccup for folks that own a Cessna Citation, and have a $7M boat coming soon).  Names have been omitted to protect the (not so) innocent.  Just another story from the backwaters of the Caribbean.

Well, there was a whole lot more to these stories, but as usual, this is getting waaaayyyy too long-winded, so…….

-Later