Spanish Virgins
We anchored Saturday 6th January in a bay nearly 2 miles deep into the island of Culebra that was like a lake as the entrance had a reef across it with only a small gap in the middle. There were many pontoons around the shore and fortunately we chose the correct one on which to land the dinghy. It was only a short walk to the airport where we found Customs and checked in, receiving a year’s cruising permit for the United States. Culebra is both part of Puerto Rico and also a Spanish Virgin Island owned by the United States. We walked round part of the main town, Dewey, where there is a short gap in the land between the inland water and the Caribbean Sea. Over this was a lift up bridge built by two of the locals. Unfortunately it now does not operate.
The next day it blew hard all day. We motored back to the reef where we could pick up a buoy just inside the reef. Andrew swam over to it but found it was sea grass and rocks with very few fish and only few pieces of coral trying to get established. I painted over some bald patches on our dinghy. After lunch we motored round to the East to anchor in a bay on the north side of Cubralita. The sea conditions got worse as were became more exposed to unsheltered seas. As we approached the bay we were in five metres of water with four metre waves crashing over us and we decided to abort and retraced our steps to anchor off the West side of the island. Going ashore we found a track through the undergrowth that led to the bay in the north. It certainly was a pretty bay with white sand and palm trees, but there were breaking waves on the beach that would have made landing difficult. On the trail we found many snail shells of various sizes. The strange thing about them was that they were all inhabited by crabs!
We left the anchorage before dark to enter another bay on Culebra which was largely cut off by a long reef. We made the entrance all right but when picking our way around a small island we went aground. A second attempt got us aground even firmer. A rib with three local guys came over to offer assistance. Eventually our engine got us off and we followed the rib through the correct way round the island to where there were mooring buoys. It was worth a few beers. The wind was still blowing a gale outside but the water there was calm enough for a good night.
The next day the weather was much calmer. It was easy to see the reefs in the morning sunshine as we made our way back out to sea, around the eastern end of the island and along the north coast. Our guide book said we must visit Flamenco Bay and we thought we might stop there for lunch. Well the swell and the waves were still coming from the northeast and going straight into the bay as they were into the bay on the north of Cubralita. They may not have been quite so large but we still decided to give the bay a miss and went to look at a possible anchorage off one of the small islands to the west of Culebra. This proved to be a collection of one large and several small rocks with out a beach and giving no shelter from the swell or wind. We continued westward towards Puerto Rico and picked a buoy in the shelter of Palamino Island. We discovered that most of this island is owned by one or two hotels on the mainland just five miles away and when we ordered a couple of beers from the beach bar were told they did not accept cash, only the hotel room number or credit card. The beers had already been opened so we could only leave the cash and leave it them to sort out! We did not want to row back to the yacht to fetch a credit card. The island was surrounded by lovely sandy beaches, had a Palamino pony trail, and a wedding chapel on a hill. This looked out over the beautiful coloured water over the surrounding coral reefs and the islet of Palominitos.
Puerto Rico
We arrived at Puerto Rico mainland at Villa Marina and caught a ‘Publico’ minivan to the nearby shopping centre with a Wal-Mart, for everything including food, and a West Marine. West Marine had a couple of things we wanted and several we thought we would leave till we reached the States. We got a replacement camera in Wal-Mart as the lens shutter had suddenly become faulty on the old one. And we bought some aroma soaps and Bic lighters as we had been advised they were good for trading with the Cubans. As we have been unable to buy any more Euros, we may have to try buying things without cash. A surprisingly good find in Wal-Mart was a replacement battery for our failed leaky one. It cost 67 US dollars! We expect to pay anything from 150 to 200 dollars. We managed to pick up a return Publico outside the shop. Just outside the marina was a sail repairer who kindly sewed a new plastic zip into my oilskin jacket. The jacket was a good one, bought in Brazil last April, but the metal ends of the zip had already corroded and broken a bit. There were some large, colourful iguanas around the marina, living under the pontoons, posing for photos.
Next we went five miles down the coast to the largest marina in Puerto Rico and, to our surprise, found it cheaper than Villa Marina. Here there was said to be wi-fi, but, as usual, it did not work very well and the power supply by the tables was not available during the day. But Andrew managed to connect to another unsecured site and eventually we concluded all our Internet business. This may be the last Internet connection until after Cuba. We stayed two nights here so that while Andrew cleaned up the battery bracket in the engine compartment where an old leaky battery had deposited so much white acid powder, I trudged off to the supermarket, supposedly a ten-minute walk. After a long hot walk a lady in a car pulled up and offered me a ride, which I gratefully accepted. I bought a dozen large tins of fruit juice and a few other items, loading them into four bags that I could manage with my trolley. The Customer Service desk phoned for a taxi for me and then I managed the long pontoons without much difficulty.
Early in the morning, as soon as the office was open and we could check out, we set off to an anchorage on the south coast which looked like the nearest sheltered place, tucked behind a small reef curving out in front of a small town. It was thirty five miles away and on the way, passed an island nicknamed ‘monkey island’. Rhesus monkeys had been released there in the 1920's and now the island is over-run with monkeys, and there is an experimental station. At first we did not see them as their colour was the same as the earth, but as we rowed in closer they were watching us in the trees and along the shoreline. We saw one or two larger monkeys and all sizes/ages of children. We obeyed the rules not to go ashore but took several photographs. We did not have the time to linger and pressed on goosewinging the sails and keeping up five knots.
As we finally anchored in the evening, what should we see just in front of the anchor chain but the head, and the curve of the back and tail of a manatee as he dived.
This anchorage proved not to be easy. It was after five in the evening and not good light to see reefs. Our guide had a detailed chartlet with lat. and long. grid lines showing exactly where the town was in relation to coast, the reefs and the patch of rocks. We followed the instructions very carefully and hit the rocks again. Luckily we were going very slowly at the time and got off fairly easily. On checking afterwards, we discovered that the chartlet put everything half a mile further to the west than was correct. So now we had gone aground twice by using the information in the guide book and will not be able to rely on it futher. It was following one of the charts in this guide bookwhen we went aground inside the reefs in Culebra. Stephen J. Pavlidis who wrote the guide to Puerto Rico states that his charts were so accurate that they were ‘utilized by SoftChart International and provide additional detail that supplements government-produced charts’. But we found several other errors. On one chartlet showing every tenth minute of longitude above 65 degrees, it is written as 66 degrees. Our next anchorage behind a row of reefs and small islands has the best entrance between the westernmost islands where there are buoys. Mr Pavlidis suggests that there is a good passage between the eastern end of islands. All we could see was a solid line of breaking water between the islands, with no sign of any gap. With the wind behind us it would have been disaster to have attempted it. Our detailed Admiralty chart showed at best just one narrow gap with 11ft of water, not a good entrance with 29ft. Sorry Mr Pavlidis, but we have no confidence in you.
Our last stop in Puerto Rico was in Ponce, where we could clear out of the country. We found our way into the yacht club Sunday afternoon, obtained a mooring and established that Customs would come in the morning. There was a peninsula. stretching along a reef towards the yacht club. This formed what is called in Spanish, a ‘Paseo’, a place where people meet and stroll. On the side facing the water it was boardwalk and down the middle were ten small buildings each with several snack-bars blaring out their own loud music. The place was crowded with many families and other people. It was full of children showing off their toys, electric cars and bicycles, toddlers on push-along vehicles, radio controlled cars, and people in wheelchairs. All the snack bars were doing a roaring trade. The music continued till around 11 p.m.
Monday morning we phoned Customs from the yacht club office. The officer soon arrived, established that the yacht was there, and told us we had to go the office in town for the paperwork, by which time his colleagues who did the work would be there. We took a taxi there, not too expensive, and after a while we had our clearance papers. But the Puerto Rico officials refused to clear us to go to Cuba. As we had to give a destination, we opted for the Dominican Republic. Then we took a taxi to the nearby supermarket for more supplies and dollars from the ATM, and back to the yacht.
Our plan had been to leave after lunch but several things then happened to change our plans. Firstly the winds were very strong, and indeed the midday forecast looked pessimistic for fair winds. Then another English yacht arrived. The two guys, charming gays both called Chris, had come from the States via the south coast of Haiti and Dominican Republic in their newly bought yacht "Grace". They told us they had had an awful time against the rough seas and force 5/6 winds, but had made some stops and observations along the way that were very useful to us. This helped us form a plan to stopover in the Dominican Republic and get proper clearance for Cuba. We paid for a second night at the club and, finding no restaurant near, ate some of the luke warm snacks with the Chrises on the Paseo. This time there were very few people and only a couple of open stalls. The music was still very loud.
Bright and early the next morning we left in light winds.
Passage to Cuba
The winds picked up and we had a comfortable sail over five knots for two days and a night, anchoring behind the small island of Catalina off the south east of the Dominican Republic, as it got dark. In the bay we saw two catamarans and something with a light flashing which we carefully avoided. We awoke in the morning to find a cruise liner anchoring very close to us. Then a pirogue motored away from the shore and took the lines from the stern of the liner to the dolphin, the thing that had had the light flashing. All along the beach were rows of sun beds. This was obviously the ‘desert island’ stop for the hundreds of passengers to spend a day ‘alone’. The catamarans started to leave and we soon followed.
We decided to sail the 35 miles to Andreas, Boca Chica. It was not mentioned as a port of entry but Chris had told us of how the officials come to the marina and how friendly it was. As we made our way through the shallows we were met and guided in to a marina space, greeted in reasonable English and had several official guys look over the yacht and our paperwork soon afterwards. We were repeatedly told of the marina’s facilities and not to hesitate to ask for anything we needed. Unfortunately the laundry facilities were not working this week, but there was free wifi! The marina was in a beautiful setting behind a small island and long reef.
This part of the Dominican Republic was a popular holiday destination, near an airport, a highway along the coast, and with many hotels facing the beautiful beaches protected behind reefs. We found the small roads leading to town were roughly made with broken edges, cracks and holes, and crumbling buildings here and there. The town looked interesting but poor. By contrast, the hotels were plush with creatively designed entrances and gardens, and plenty of security guards. There were many restaurants with wooden piers over the shallow water where the guests could watch the fish as they ate. These had first class décor and service, reasonable food, and were as expensive as in the Virgin Islands. The small restaurants in town would have been much cheaper.
Everyone was very friendly and helpful, including the American partner/owner of the marina who arrived by yacht with his family the same day as us. Many of the staff spoke some English. The marina has existed beside the yacht club’s moorings, for a couple of years and is still being built up. It will be very impressive. One of the men who showed us the way into our dock and summoned the authorities, was also asked by the owners to drive us to the Immigration office in town to save getting a taxi. (We had been seriously overcharged by a taxi driver the previous night). After tipping this man, he soon arrived with some good quality bananas and a pineapple for us. We must have over tipped him!
On the morning of our departure, the authorities arrived a little after the allotted time, gave us a final check over and gave us our ‘despatchio’. They then waited until we left with everyone waving goodbye.
The trip to Cuba began well with wind and current with us we sailed to the southernmost point of the island. Then as we went westwards along the coast of Haiti, we had an adverse current all the way, even though we were up to 30 miles off the coast. The seas were horrible with waves heaped up to twelve feet with breaking crests that often broke over our cabin or slammed into the side of the yacht. At night the white crests would flash with phosphorescence. Looking aft, the stern just rose gently over most of the waves, but then a small group would push the stern sideways rolling the boat so that the next one could wash over the decks, and the sails would flap noisily until the self steering could correct the yacht’s course.
Eventually we reached the western tip of Haiti and saw the lights of more ships than we had seen in one place since leaving the straits of Dover. They soon dispersed in various directions and the wind dropped away to nothing. We motored for a while till the wind picked up again around dawn and by ten we were trying to raise Santiago on the radio. When we reached just a mile off the entrance to the harbour I received the a voice in English welcoming us to Cuba, and by eleven we were tied up to a concrete pontoon with the harbour master organizing our safe arrival and the procession of visiting officials, acting as interpreter.
Cuba, Santiago
We were not allowed off the yacht or have visitors on board from other yachts until we were officially cleared in. The first to board were concerned with health. One was interested in any livestock and checked our foodstuff for signs of cockroaches or weevils and was ready with his spray if we had said we had mosquitoes on board. Then we had the immigration guys filling in forms, peering at our ships registration card and the passports. A squad of customs officials followed them. The senior one brought a large tool kit that he unpadlocked at the quayside. Two were sent below to start in the forward cabin removing everything from under the bunks and the lockers and even one of the side panels of the cabin. ‘Don’t worry’, we were told, ‘they will put everything back as it was’. But they didn't. When they took the new cruising chute out if its bag it took an age to stuff it back in, and I doubted that it would come out properly. We had to do was to hand over our VHF radio, mobile GPS, and the flares. The Cubans were not allowed to own these items and we had to have them taped up out of use until we departed the country. They took the dinghy off the deck and took out the polystyrene floatation from under the seats. Then they started on the main cabin but they were getting tired and not so thorough. So two more of the gang were sent in fresh. One guys waiting sat idly by during this, going through the pockets of our jackets and looking through our binoculars, which was evidently a novelty. It took four hours for this search, and all the various officials left their bills which totaled £50 in all, leaving us to sort and tidy all our possessions back into place. At least nothing was missing or broken. Despite the thoroughness of the search, they found not one of our hiding places for money and valuables.
The day was nearly over but we chatted to the couple in the yacht moored just behind us. Hans and Dorly were from Holland, sailing ‘Happy Monster’, and we had seen one another back in Cascais. Portugal. They had spent nine months in Surinam working. They then sailed direct from Curacao to Cuba, arriving the night before us.
The following morning we shared a taxi to Santiago town, agreeing on a price with the driver and not to use the meter. In town we changed some US dollars to convertible pesos in a bank.‘Convertible’ pesos are the currency to be used by tourists. We aren’t supposed to have ‘local’ pesos, but they turned out to be essential for shopping for fresh meat and vegetables in the markets, and it seemed we could only get them by black-market exchange on the streets. The going rate is 24 local pesos for one convertible, although the 'official' rate is one for one.
Our first day was spent being tourists in Santiago, an industrial city and rather dirty but with some fine old buildings in the centre, many crumbling but some restored. We wanted food so visited a supermarket, which was priced in convertibles. Four aisles, one devoted entirely to tomato puree, another to mayonnaise, no fresh food at all! Tourists are supposed to eat out, not buy food. Heavy security watching our every move in case of shop-lifting. It was an introduction to how difficult shopping was going to be.
That evening we were talking about our problems in the marina bar. The barman, and his son, Emilio, offered to take us together with Dorly and Hans to the market in town. At seven a.m. we were waiting at the roadside for the bus. After half an hour we climbed into the back of a truck with steel benches down the sides and an awning over the top, an old wartime army truck - even older than me! Soon it was crammed with people standing, including some school children in immaculate school uniform. The bus ride cost twenty local cents each, about ½p, for five miles. (The normal taxi fare was £3, though we always had to haggle hard for this.) At the market Emilio had twenty convertibles changed to local pesos for us and organised paying for our vegetables, eggs and ham as we picked out what we wanted. I had not brought enough plastic bags but people were selling them for a peso each. The previous day I had bought a dozen bread rolls from a panaderia with one convertible and got ten pesos change. With this ten I bought some tomatoes from a man at the corner of the street, and got two dozen tomatoes! I received far more vegetables from the market than I had asked for, but they were all excellent quality and had not been chilled, so they kept very well. When we got back to the boat everying we had bought was checked by Customs. Later we thanked our barman and son, Emilio, giving them cigarette lighters, soap, and tee shirts with ‘Happy Monster’ on. We noticed how cautious they were about accepting. A Canadian explained that locals are not permitted to accept gifts from foreigners and with the Customs close at hand they feared being questioned.
Saturday night we went into to town to the main square where a local pop group was preparing to give a free concert. By the time the event was due to begin, it was crammed with people. A young couple made room for us on a bench and tried to make conversation, but the language barrier and the loud warm-up music made it too difficult. The young man showed me a well-used paperback New Testament in Spanish that he was carrying. Hans blew up a couple of Happy Monster balloons and played with some toddlers. Then their uncle talked to us for a long time in broken English and although we understood his words, his explanation of his life made little sense. Ultimately, as so often happened, it boiled down to begging for money when he was sure he wasn't being watched. It was fascinating just watching the people in the square. Loud Latin American music came from the speakers and many young couples were dancing as if they were on a ballroom floor. Everyone was wearing their best clothes, the girls in slacks and posh tops or little dresses, the guys in smart slacks and shirts, combat trousers and tee shirts, or tee shirts with special logos such as ‘Elvis the Pelvis’. One guy wore matching yellow cotton slacks, shirt and skullcap. At last the group appeared and started playing but to our surprise noone danced anymore and there was some jeering in the crowd. Evidently they were not popular. We tried to ask why but as so often in Cuba, explanations of odd behaviour were not forthcoming. "The lead singer is unsympathetic to the people" is the best we got. The crowd became more unruly - Andrew shoved away a would-be pickpocket but Hans lost his wallet. We left.
On Sunday we, together with Dorly and Hans again, hired a car and driver for a day for 80 convertibles (£50). ‘That’s a month’s salary’ said schoolteacher Emilio, shocked. We began by going to the old cemetery to see the tomb/memorial to José Martí the national hero of the independence war in 1898. It was his anniversary that day and every half hour the military guard was changed. Male and female soldiers with rifles, wearing trousers or shorts, made an incredibly high goose-step to amplified drums and brass. It was a little like the changing of the guard at Buckingham Palace. Next we visited to the Sierra Maestra mountains. To reach the top, on a 'hanging rock' was a climb of 435 steps. The view was excellent when the cloud cleared, over the hills where Castro's men had hidden out prior to their revolution. Then, after a coffee, we returned to Santiago to a very good private restaurant the driver knew, for lunch. These private restaurants, or palladors, are only allowed 12 customers. They seem invariably better than the public, state-run restaurants. Full of good food, the taxi driver returned and took us to the castle, or Morro, that we passed at the entrance to Santiago Bay. It was a fine castle with a small museum inside and we spent a long time exploring it and admiring the views. We saw another yacht arrive and waved them a welcome.
Monday morning 'Happy Monster' left for Cienfuegos, and we left in the afternoon. First we had to wait for the yacht to be fumigated, though it was pointless as the vetinary guy was trying to spray an empty aerosol. He looked longingly at our can of 'Raid', but we didn't offer. At times it felt like we were participating in some sort of job-creation programme rather than a serious attempt to protect national security. We were searched again, this time with a sniffer dog, and finally given our 'despatchio' (permission to leave). It took about two hours, but the moment the despatchio is issued, you have to go immediately while they see you off. Most countries give you 24 hours grace, and you do not need permission just to travel between ports.
It turned out to be straight into gale force winds and rough seas. This was our first experience of a “frente frio”, the cold fronts that blow off Texas into the Gulf of Mexico during winter. Fortunately it abated during the night, and then we did not have enough wind. We caught up with 'Happy Monster' and during the following day we were tacking along the coast together, passing on different tacks and taking photographs of each other. During the night we were still quite close, but after rounding Cabo Cruz, we took a route close to the cays while 'Happy Monster' headed more directly to Cienfuegos. We headed for a cay in the Archipelego of the Gardens of the Queens and reached the anchorage soon after dark but with a full moon. We had a meal and a good night’s sleep and in the morning I had a refreshing swim over some coral. The cays were just some low mangroves over coral. There were not many fish and I could see the anchor lying on the bottom. But the anchor had caught on some coral and it took a lot of effort to get it free. There was no one around but we saw a few fishing boats further along some of the cays. The next day the entrance to Cienfuegos slowly appeared.
As we closed on Cienfuegos there was a tanker leaving the bay and two more making their way towards us. Radioing for permission to enter got no reply, or not one I understood. So we entered the narrow channel leaving to the huge bay, pausing at the side to let a tanker pass us. The guard post in the channel with ‘Bienvenido Cuba Socialista’ painted large outside, waved us through to the marina. Radioing the marina also got no reply but there were guys on the pontoon to help us moor. After quite a while two officials came on board to do the paper work and in quarter of an hour all was done and we were free to enjoy ourselves – and without payment. Cienfuegos seemed so more relaxed than Santiago. 'Happy Monster' was on the next pontoon having arrived in the early morning.
Cuba, Cienfuegos
Cienfuegos, like Santiago, is at the head of a large bay but this time the entrance was via a narrow but deep channel between two low rocky headlands. The marina was five miles inside the entrance on the outskirts of the city. The commercial shipping goes to a different part of the bay. There were large concrete finger pontoons with electricity and water, not considered drinkable. In Santiago there were toilets, working, and washbasins and showers without any water. In Cienfuegos they provided few facilities, though there was diesel and a small shop with a little fresh food that we otherwise found difficult to buy. The staff were particularly friendly - without asking for money or gifts! There was a small fleet of German charter yachts which to our surprise seemed much in demand. The town was within walking distance but we much preferred to catch a ‘bus’. These were horse drawn carts carrying eight passengers, happy to trot to the centre or back for one convertible peso each. They were not officially allowed to take tourists but as the fare for locals was just one local peso, it was much to their advantage. They would take you to within a few streets of the centre and hope not to get caught by the police.
Cienfuegos is centrally placed along the south coast about 350 miles from Santiago. As we approached the marina, we were struck by how pretty the town looked, with parks and stately buildings ('palaces') at the water's edge, almost Venetian in aspect. The marina was in the wealthiest part of town. Between the marina and a large hotel was a new park where fanciful concrete sculptures were being laid out in a park. There were other small park areas with shady gazebos. Next to the hotel was a large palace with an eastern look about it. It was covered with intricate carvings in what looked like ivory around all the windows, doors, corners and edges. The inside was equally ornate although we did not pay to look around. An elderly lady in a long gown and white satin turban was playing a grand piano to the visitors in the entrance hall. Next to the marina was another beautiful building built in the 1920’s as the Cienfuegos Rowing and Yacht Club. It had been a very impressive place before the 1957 revolution, but had fallen into disrepair until being renovated by the government five years ago. It had become a restaurant and social club, and a large terrace for partying. We heard the loud music from many birthday parties for both young and old whilst moored in the marina. A long flight of wide marble steps led to the main entrance and huge reception hall. Around the walls were some of the cups and trophies won by the rowing club in the past, and pictures of the building at different stages of its life. We had a couple of good meals in the restaurant.
In the city there were still some buildings very much in need of repair but with people still living or working in them as best they could. The central square though was beautifully maintained with the cathedral on one side and a large theatre on another. While we sat in a bar opposite the theatre eating a sandwich, a man made a sketch of Andrew which was rather good, and inexpensive, so he did one of me too. I got my hair cut in a large unisex hairdressers come beauty parlour that seemed much emptier around lunchtime. The lady did a good job in quarter of an hour and charged me five convertibles. |
Cienfuegos to Havana
The popular destination from Cienfuegos is Cayo Largo, one of the larger off-lying islands where several hotels and a good marina have been built. The mangroves have been cleared to provide sandy beaches. But it felt like just another holiday resort with yet another set of officials checking our arrival and departure. So we anchored off another, uninhabited island, Cayo Rossario, where there was nothing but mangroves and coral, when to our surprise two charter yachts came to join us just as it got dark. The next two nights we anchored in similarly remote spots, though on our own. There were no fishing boats visiting us offering us lobsters for exchange for a cigarette lighter and a cake of soap, which everyone else we spoke to seem to have found. Even our attempts to catch our own fish were unsuccessful, even though on one day we sailed for several hours through an enormous shoal of fish jumping out of the water around us. The gulls were diving and screeching but were probably not having any more luck with getting a bite than we were as the fish were bigger them. We trailed two lines but only caught one fish, and that came off the hook just as we were pulling it out.
In the early hours of the next night we anchored just south of a headland separating us from the dive resort of Maria la Gorda, and went to sleep. At midday we motored around to the resort and were checked in by the officials. There was nothing there to interest us and in any case the heavy shore break and coral made it difficult for us to get ashore. We were advised that there was a cold front coming in and that it would be best for us to stay in the bay there and sit out the winds. It seemed very exposed though and when we heard the cold front had stalled and would not cause problems for some days, we decided to move on in search of better shelter. Getting our clearance caused us some grief. We were made to come alongside a concrete jetty so that they could search the boat with a dog. We knew that with the big swell there was not enough depth there but they insisted, moving a fishing boat forward to make room for us on the very end. Even so, there was not enough room and caught in the surge the front of the yacht smashed into the fishing boat. There were no bollards or cleats on the pontoon, only a steel chain for us to tie to, and that broke twice as we lurched up and down in the swell, bouncing on the bottom. We bent a stanchion and could not get away quick enough.
We made good progress along the remaining south coast and rounded the Cabo San Antonio, the westernmost point of Cuba, despite being warned at Maria la Gorda that it would be far too rough for us. We threaded through the reefs into the shallows on the north-west side of Cuba, found the channel markers and made our way to a sheltered anchorage. We were listening to ‘Metal Mickey’ (US Coastguard forecast) to keep track of the predicted cold front. We met a couple of Canadians who had the Nigel Calder pilot guide. It was a much better guide than the one we had and we took notes of the pages covering our north passage to Havana. When we left England we had three paper charts that covered Cuba and thought we would buy charts when we arrived in the country. In Santiago, Hans and Dorly gave us a series of Cuban charts covering the south coast for which we were very grateful as it allowed us to find anchorages in the cays. But we had much poorer information for the north coast so it was a great help to see the sketch-maps in Nigel Calder’s pilot book. The north west coast is a difficult one to sail up during winter as cold fronts regularly come off Texas bringing onshore gales to this part of Cuba. Nigel Calder’s book suggested sheltered spots within the shallows about which the pilot book we had bought gave little information.
We motored the next day to a very sheltered anchorage another twenty-five miles north, still in the shallows behind reefs. Here we waited for the front to go through. On the way I was fishing and caught a good sized barracuda. Andrew was not sure it was edible because of possible ciguatera poisoning, and after taking its photograph, threw it overboard. Then a fishing boat came up to us. Andrew showed the men the picture and they said it would have been good to eat. The three fishermen had nothing to offer us and were rather hoping we would have some rum to offer them. We gave them each a cigarette lighter, a bar of soap and a tinned beer, and one of them took a fancy to, and received, Andrew’s cap. The fishermen here are extremely poor. With a last hopeful gesture for rum, they took off. A little later I caught a mackerel, which gave me plenty of lovely fish for fishcakes in the evening. But whilst fishing, two spinners and a feather lost their hooks, and when I added a wire tracer to the spinner after catching the barracuda, I lost the whole spinner when the wire was bitten through. I went back to using just the thick monofil.
Thursday 15th February was still calm in light southwesterly winds, the one exposed direction for our anchorage. We did some repairs to the dinghy and the Aries, some clothes washing and washing of ourselves, read a lot, used the computer, and generally had a very pleasant day. In the evening we took down the sun awning and made sure everything was secure on deck. At eight in the morning the wind suddenly blew up to gale force, at first from the southwest, but then veering to the northwest from which thankfully we were sheltered. The wind generator was putting in a steady seven amps.
I made bread every other day, having stocked up on flour, but by Friday the only margarine left was a quarter pound of cooking margarine that looked more like lard. I had not found any butter or margarine to buy in Cuba. For a week I had been using mayonnaise on the lunchtime sandwiches. Several days previously I had re-opened a piece of cheese that had been left a couple of days. As I cut off a slice, lots of white maggots started to crawl out of it. Ugh! We had so many flies around at this time, they always seemed to be in the cabin. Our fly spray had run out a week previously.
Saturday was calmer and we moved another twenty miles north to another anchorage before the next cold front due on Sunday. We were not sure if we would be able to make it over the shallows but Andrew was very good at navigating in, following the Nigel Calder guide. Even so it took us over an hour to work in the last mile behind a Cay, sometimes with no more than a foot of water beneath our keel, before we anchored. We put out two anchors and awaited the winds. There was a rough sort of fishing dock on this cay, where fishermen might base themselves, and a father and son rowed over to us and we had a short chat in rudimentary Spanish and sign language. They did not want a beer but asked if we had any fishhooks, which we gave them. There were some strong gusts during the night but the black clouds and rain did not arrive till morning. We found we were extremely well sheltered and secure. In the afternoon when the sun came out, we rowed around the mangroves with a mackerel line but saw no fish. We did see our first live conch grazing on the turtle grass and a great number of bright orange starfish. On our way to this anchorage we passed two Portuguese men of war jellyfish.
The weather forecast began to change, predicting better weather. This was welcome news indeed as we could then make Havana before our friend Barry Tipping arrived from England on 22nd February. We had agreed to meet him for his holiday some months previously when time had seemed ample, but what with the bad weather we were beginning to wonder if we would make it in time. Moreover this part of the country is so isolated there is no mobile phone service and no way we could let him know what was happening. We extracted ourselves from the shallows and slowly made our way through the intricate reefs to another anchorage close to an easy passage out to deep water. The wind was still strong from the north with a northwest swell causing the waves to crash on the outer reefs sending spray high into the sky. But inside the reefs there was only a slight chop.
Cuba, Havana
Tuesday 20th February we motored out into the deep water with a light wind. By midnight we were only seven miles from Marina Hemingway, on the edge of Havana. The winds had strengthened so that the sea was not as calm as we would have liked for entering the marina in the dark, as the entrance is notoriously tricky. So we made a wise decision to drift offshore until daylight. Then we headed for the position of the crucial outer entrance buoy and could not find it. We got a reply from the marina informing us that the buoy was missing. The sea was now calm with no breakers over the coral, and entry through the narrow gap was not a problem, especially as all the other marker buoys were in position. Clearance in with the customary search took an hour or so. We had to hand over our distress flares as they were ‘explosives’. Then we were mooring alongside in canal number two with our own personal metered water, electricity supply, and rubbish bin. Several security guards had positions along the canal and constantly wandered up and down during the day and night, checking on us. The dockmaster was friendly, speaking good English. He told us there would be no problem with Barry visiting the yacht.
Our visa ran out two days later so we had to get an extension. This needed some revenue stamps which apparently could only be bought at a bank on the other side of Cuba. Larry, a Canadian yachtie who visited Cuba regularly, confirmed the location of a bank and surprisingly we had no difficulty obtaining them.
But before this we had successfully made contact with Barry, meeting him as he arrived at his hotel in Havana. Even though he planned to stay on the yacht, Cuban regulations insist that tourists book into a hotel. First thing was to drink a Mojito together. This cocktail is made by crushing some fresh mint with sugar and limejuice in a tumbler, adding ice and filling up the glass with white rum topped with sparkling water. It seems to be Cuba’s national drink.
We spent the weekend being tourists in Old Havana, wandering the streets and stopping at cafes, just getting the feel of the place. It felt we had been transported back in time to the 1950’s. Many of the crumbling apartment buildings had ancient doorways opening onto communal courtyards, with concrete steps leading to the upper apartments. One evening we sat in a restaurant with one of these inner, shady courtyards. The surrounding louvered doors and window shutters, partly open showing ceiling fans and sparsely furnished rooms, the peeling painted concrete walls and vines hanging overhead, made us feel we were sitting in an old movie set. Out in the streets were many American cars from the 1950’s,often kept in pristine condition, and used as taxis. It is difficult for the Cubans to afford the petrol without tourist fares.
When we wanted a taxi we would wait at the roadside to see what came along. There were a few taxi ‘companies’ (though all are state run) which seemed differentiated by the quality of the cars being operated. These had meters, but we didn’t trust them and preferred to negotiate the price before travel. The smarter cars charged more. There were also older cars, not with a company name but with a taxi sign somewhere. We found these to be cheaper, but suspected that they are not actually licenced to take tourists. Some of them, especially the large Chevrolets, were ‘collective’ taxis, picking up several people along a route and dropping off where required for a few local pesos for the locals and a couple of CUCs for us tourists. This was the cheapest way to travel but the cars had no upholstery and the springs pushing through the seats. They were also usually full, but everyone was very friendly. Sometimes a private car would stop to give us a lift and we would agree a price and pay up before reaching the destination so that the police would not see us paying a driver as we got out of his car. There were police on many of the road junctions and it is possible that taxis had to keep to designated routes. Once when we were in a taxi, the driver began to take a route down a side-street and was stopped and questioned for a long time by the police before having to retrace his steps back to the original road.
We visited the Capitolio, a large building that appeared to be perched on top of a lot of steps and had a large dome on top. It was full of magnificent rooms with painted ceilings and marble floors, many of which were used for conferences and government meetings. Behind this was a cigar factory we tried to visit, but it was closed. The nearby Revolution Museum gives a blow by blow account of Castro’s revolutionary war and the history of his regime, with many newspaper cuttings and pictures, but was very one-sided and full of anti-US propaganda. In one section CIA agents were blamed for introducing dengue fever, AIDS, tobacco mosaic virus and other diseases into Cuba! Outside, encased in a glass building, was the motorboat ‘Granma’ in which Fidel Castro, Che Guevara, and another 80 revolutionaries sailed from Mexico to a beach in the southeast of Cuba, supposedly in secret, but they were ambushed and nearly all were captured or killed. Fidel and Che, of course, escaped. The motorboat was built to carry 20 people, so we expect they were feeling pretty much dead on arrival anyway.
We explored the largest of the many forts that guard the entrance to Havana harbour and then went a little out of town to the village of Cojimar where Hemingway had his boat. There were many pictures of him fishing, hanging on the walls of the restaurant where we had lunch. It was Cojimar that inspired his writing of “The Old Man and the Sea”. We also visited Hemingway’s house located to the south of Havana. It was a lovely bungalow in a large, once landscaped, garden, on a hill overlooking Havana and the sea. The rooms were left furnished as they were when he lived there, with bookcases full of sailing and fishing books, and many hunting trophies mounted on the walls. There were windows all round the house for the visitors to look inside and take photos without actually entering the building. His boat was also on display in the garden.
One day, we took a coach trip out to the country where there was a spectacular range of hills, the Sierra de Los Organos. The limestone rocks forming this range spring vertically out of the ground and contain many caves. We visited one of these that had a lake inside, on which we took a boat out of the other side of the hill. The cave was quite dry even though it was raining outside, but much of it looked like the rock had been worn away by water in the past. There were also some stalactites to be seen. The drive through the country was interesting as we saw the tobacco plants and the thatched buildings where the leaves were hung to dry. There were rice paddy fields, fields being ploughed with oxen, chicken and pig farms, cattle, sugar cane fields and citrus trees. At junctions onto the main road were crowds of people waiting for lifts, and many bicycles, horse and ox carts on the roads.
Other days we spent some local currency at the fruit, vegetable and meat stalls in a market half a mile from the marina, or went to the rather nice swimming pool in the marina complex, visited the pizza restaurant, the small supermarket, worked on the boat, and went to a live rock group performing in one of the small bars at the end of our canal. The group were very good and did some old number like ‘Hotel California’,‘Rock around the Clock’, and 'The Wall'. When they played the last, the young audience shouted out the words "We don't want no education, we don't want no thought control!". (Castro had famously described one of the objectives of Cuban schools as 'ideological formation').
The swimming pool in the marina was not easy to reach. Even though it was quite close to us, the marina is huge and it would have been over a mile to walk, due to the arrangement of canals. We asked the dockmaster if it was possible to get a lift from one of the many electric buggies they use, but no. Perhaps we could use our dinghy? So Andrew rowed first me and then Barry across a fairly narrow stretch of water to the pool, and then we hauled the dinghy out of the water there. The security guard nearby was not at all happy. We couldn’t row there, nor land our dinghy. We decided that since the dockmaster had suggested it, we would ignore his protests, and left the dinghy right by his hut. We enjoyed our swim, drink and sunbathe and a couple of hours later returned to our dinghy, reversing our procedure under the gaze of the scowling guard. Two days later we repeated our trip. It seems that if we didn’t give in, we could get away with it. It was much the same when we wanted to take some photos of the trees in the strong winds. Oh no, you can’t take photos around here, not even of your yacht, say the guards. Well you can if you just do it.
A few days after Barry left we were ready to leave Cuba but had to wait for better weather. We said goodbye to the friends we had made among the other visitors in the marina, paid our bill, saw Customs, Immigration and the Guarda Frontera, and after the customary search including a visit by a sniffer dog (were we smuggling drugs OUT of Cuba?), were handed back our flares and given our despatchio. We were cleared to leave for Key West in the USA.
Florida, USA
Twenty-four hours after leaving Marina Hemingway we arrived in a Key West Marina on 8th March. The wind had eased after a couple of hours out but continued to come from a direction rather too close to where we were headed, but we were helped considerably by the Gulf Stream pushing us northwards. We were assigned a rather difficult mooring space but I gained a round of applause from the lady on a nearby motorboat after she watched me manoeuvre Sentinel in a difficult wind so that Andrew could get the mooring ropes on the dock without any shouting or accidents. So there we were, in the land where the water was drinkable (It’s city water Ma’am), fresh food was readily available and the wi-fi was free. Paper information abounded including a magazine called ‘Menu’ listing the hundreds of restaurants to be found in the larger Keys.
We arrived at Customs in the morning at opening time along with half a dozen other skippers and crews, many of them rather drunk. The Customs team were very polite but firm. The drunk skipper who had tried to answer back was put in his place. We were told we could not arrive from Cuba. ‘But’, I said, ‘we have. We are here.’ Andrew explained how we had read the regulations and spoken to Canadians who were coming and going all the time. Oh no they couldn’t, said the Customs’ man, unless they were not checking in. We were handed the explanatory sheet we had already read in Puerto Rico that was all about who can leave the USA for Cuba, but not about foreigners coming from Cuba to the USA, but there was no arguing. We had to accept our verbal slap on the wrist and have Customs come and visit the yacht, but otherwise everything was soon done with smiles all round and no other officials to see. Although several Customs came to see this yacht from England, only one came aboard to ask a couple of questions and the yacht was not searched. Several local people in the marina stopped for a word. One guy looked at our ensign and said, ‘Are you from Canada?’ Another time, a couple went passed discussing where we were from and he was assuring his wife we were from Australia.
Key West is the ‘historical’ Key at the end of Highway number 1. It has the ‘southernmost point’ and had the ‘Southernmost Hotel’. Hemingway lived there for a while. The old shiplap buildings have been preserved and it is a pleasant town to wander around. It is also possible for four cruise liners to be moored alongside the town. Further north along the keys the towns are less compact as they stretch along the Highway.
After a couple of days we motored along the Keys on the Atlantic side but inside the reefs. We anchored near a mangrove island overnight and then just managed to get into a mooring area in Marathon, about fifty miles from Key West. The anchorage is in a large bight with mangroves and islands along the ocean side, and the highway with the town stretched along it the other side. The entrance was hardly deep enough for our keel. It was a good place to ride out strong winds and that is just what we did. Most of the time it was too windy for us to row our dinghy. There was a water taxi that would take us to the City Marina from where we could take a half hour walk to the nearest food store. Andrew, who had been suffering from toothache, managed to find a dentist and had a tooth pulled. We got a USA sim card for the mobile phone, and found we could connect to the Internet from our boat for 24 hours for ten dollars. We had a night away in a motel in Florida City, to help us not go crazy waiting for the winds to die down. Florida City is just south of Miami and the end of a bus route from Marathon. It cost us less than two dollars each way on the bus but for a while we felt stranded. We had alighted at a huge Wal-Mart shopping precinct at the end of the bus route where we found no bus information and no taxis. I obtained a taxi telephone number but after ten minutes on the phone, a taxi could not be located. I phoned an information office I had hoped to visit and obtained phone numbers for cheap hotels. The first had no vacancies but the second had rooms available and was only ten minutes down the road. Surprisingly, it was opposite the information office. We enjoyed wonderful baths and a good film on the television.
At the anchorage we listened to the boaters’ radio net in the mornings and joined in with a few social events. The people were lovely. We were offered lifts in people dinghies returning from the marina, the use of a couple of bikes to make the trip to the shop more bearable, and were sold a second hand inflatable dinghy. This dinghy has a wooden transom capable of taking an outboard engine, and a wooden floor made in four pieces that can be taken out so that the boat, when deflated, can be rolled up. It just fits into our largest sail bag. It has taken the place of Andrew’s thirty-year-old Avon Redcrest that had always had a wet soft floor and nowhere to mount an outboard. Although he was sad to see it go, it was destined for the boy scouts of Marathon. Then we bought a new 3.5 horse-power outboard – the one recommended by Yachting Monthly. Unfortunately it had to go back to the shop three times in as many days before the shopkeeper came out to us, took it away and brought back a new one. Fortunately this one worked well, as by this time the weather changed and we were able to leave Marathon, along with 22 other boats anxious to leave. I hope Andrew’s apparent jinx on outboards is now played out and this one will continue to work well.
On Thursday 29th March we motored all day inside the reef thinking that by evening we would go out to the Gulf Stream and continue sailing up to Fort Pierce, arriving sometime in the morning. But the weather changed again with strong winds forecast again from the northeast. By evening we saw half a dozen yachts anchored off the small island called Rodriguez Key, which we had already considered as a possible overnight shelter. We decided to join them and had a good night’s sleep, leaving early in the morning to continue motoring northwards inside the reef to Miami. This worked well and we were able to enter the main channel at Miami with time to make our way round to the Sea-aquarium and anchor off for the night.
The next day we managed to get some more food supplies and visited the aquarium. The Sea-aquarium was a large park with several different pools where dolphins, sea lions, and the killer whale performed, a manatee pool, crocodiles, turtles, sharks and reef fish. Part of the fun for some people was to get soaking wet when the dolphins, or the killer whale were encouraged to splash the audience!
Then it was off again out of Miami and into the Gulf Stream for an 18-hour passage to Fort Pierce. Here we telephoned the City Marina for a berth to find that not many marinas could take boats with a six foot six draught and they were full up due to the better weather. So reluctantly we carried on northwards along the Intracoastal Waterway to the next town of Vero Beach and got a ‘dock slip’ at the City Marina there. It was reasonably cheap there and we hired a car for a week. |
Intracoastal Waterway, USA
We left Vero Beach on 10th April and continued north through Florida, stopping at New Smyrna while a gale and thunderstorm went through. In the town, hundreds of classic cars were filling up the main street on some kind of rally for the day. It was a wonderful sight, though it reminded us of all the cars in Cuba. That evening we went out for a meal with a guy in the next berth, well known Dutch yachtsman Geert van der Kolk. We had my birthday on the 17th in St. Augustine which is the oldest colonial town in the USA, founded by the Spanish in 1565. An educational visit to the magnificent Spanish fort was followed by an excellent dinner in a Mexican restaurant.
Thereafter we went out into the Atlantic. We completely missed the state of Georgia, where the ICW has become too shallow for us now that the US Army Engineers no longer regularly maintain it. We dropped in for a couple of days to the historic city of Charleston in South Carolina, and then re-entered the ICW at the pretty little town of Beaufort, North Carolina. Our next stop was at Belhaven marina, where we had stocked up for the Atlantic crossing on our previous visit. When we arrived the wind was blowing a gale straight into the marina and Andrew was not happy about entering. It would have been OK except that the pontoon piles had lost their protective strips of wood, and a large steel nut and a nail gouged into the side of our hull as we came alongside. The fenders on the yacht were useless to prevent it. The dockmaster was virtually useless as well. The manager arranged for the gashes to be filled for us but not until Monday, and this was Friday.
But this was not to be the end of our stay in Belhaven. Monday afternoon we sailed several miles up river and anchored for the night. The next morning whilst motoring up the canal, the engine overheated having lost all its fresh water. We refilled it a couple of times but it still overheated and we could not find out what was wrong. So we had to return to Belhaven, being the only place within a hundred miles that had any kind of marine engineer. After three abortive attempts to leave, renting a car four times and driving many miles for parts and to have the cylinder head tested for cracks, we eventually solved the problem. The cylinder head did have a minute crack and we replaced it with a reconditioned one, but the real cause of the trouble was a broken thermostat. We had suspected this from the outset, but the engineer had looked at it and told us it was good. In the end I put it in boiling water with another old one we had on board, and I could immediately see that only the spare one opened properly. The one from the engine did not work at all. When we took it to a shop to buy a new one, they laughed at its condition. So a problem that a competent mechanic could have easily sorted in a day took nearly three weeks. It had not helped that the manager had kept making completely fatuous suggestions as to what was wrong. We realised he was trying to sell us an old engine he had. "The marina from Hell" another visitor called it, and we were thankful to leave.
However, we had one last scare: after a couple of hours the engine again overheated. But we were determined not to return even if we had to sail through the canal, and then I spotted the problem. With all the things that had to be removed and replaced when taking off the cylinder head, the corner of one hex nut stopped the heat exchanger seating down properly, allowing the cooling water to spray out. This time taking off the heat exchanger, bracket and pipes, turning the hex nut a bit and then refitting it all, took us just an hour and a half. Practice makes perfect! To our relief we have had no further problems.
North of Belhaven we entered the Alligator River. On our previous visit it had been perfectly still, sunny and blue, and we had anchored all day and explored in the dinghy. This time it was grey, windy and wet, and we went through quickly. At the end of the river, where it enters the Albermarle Sound, a sandbank has grown across the channel. Someone had mentioned this to us earlier, and we found information on the internet which enabled us to pick our way through. Others, blindly following their chart plotters, were not so lucky. The yacht we were next to in the next harbour had got stuck, it had cost $3,000 for a pull off and inspection, and the rudder still needed to be repaired. He accused the local boatyard of profiteering. Apparently four or five yachts daily have to be pulled off. We met others further along the ICW.
The ICW ends at Norfolk, Virginia, Norfolk is a major naval port with literally dozens of warships, though my impression was there were far fewer than when we passed through before. Perhaps they are all in Iraq.
Chesapeake to New York, USA
On leaving Norfolk on 20th May we made our way into the Chesapeake Bay and were overwhelmed by just how vast an area of water it is. Even Hampton Roads, fronting Norfolk in the south-east corner of the Bay, is large enough. It is too distant to see the 17 mile bridge which crosses the mouth of the Bay at its southern end. We had sailed under the bridge ten years ago, and from one side of the bridge we could not see the other side. Some of the rivers that run into the Chesapeake, such as the Potomac where Washington stands, are also vast. Even their tributaries seemed like large rivers to us. You could cruise here for a year and never visit the same place twice.
We worked up the west side of the Bay. Our first stop was about 50 miles north, at anchor in a place called Fishing Bay. It had been recommended to us and was well sheltered. We walked ashore though the village center was no more than a fuel station. The countryside was lovely with ripe wheatfields and woodland. Our next day took us into the state of Maryland where we ventured up a couple of rivers to other pleasant anchorages and explored towns where the first English settlers had arrived such as St Mary’s City, the original capital of Maryland.
Spring Cove Marina at Solomons’ Island was a well kept marina with plenty of flowers and trees and facilities, very close to an excellent maritime museum which included a renovated 'cottage' lighthouse. The sides of the Chesapeake were now getting close enough to see across and we visited Oxford, on the east side (Cambridge was not very far away). We anchored here two nights, exploring the town, which is small and totally dedicated to yachting, reminding me of Cowes, and also further up the Tred Avon river.
Next we sailed to Annapolis and stayed several days over the Memorial holiday weekend. With its huge Naval Academy dominating the town, this was more akin to somewhere like Portsmouth. Between Solomon’s Island and Annapolis there had been many yachts and motor boats and with the holiday weekend it was beginning to feel very like being in the Solent, with many boats converging on the anchorages and marinas in the late afternoon. In Annapolis we bought a new raw water pump for the engine and found we needed a few extra new bits before we could eventually fit it. There are many yards and places advertising to fix everything on boats and an excellent chandlers called Fawcetts. It would be a good place for a major refit.
Feeling pushed for time we did not visit nearby Baltimore, but continued to the north of the Chesapeake and through the Chesapeake & Delaware Ship Canal to Delaware Bay. My friend Linda was in New York for a week at this time but due to the hold up in Belhaven we could not get there in time to meet her.
That night we anchored behind Rushy Island where the canal enters Delaware Bay, and the next day set out for Cape May on the Atlantic side of the mouth of the Delaware. Delaware Bay is much less benign than the Chesapeake though. We were on a fast ebb heading straight into the wind. The water became so choppy that we could make no progress directly into it. We motor-sailed tacking across the wind and waves getting quite wet. Then, as it was getting late, we took a short cut through the tricky Prissy Wicks shoal at the mouth of the Delaware, and eventually anchored off the Coastguard station in the little harbour at Cape May well after dark.
Next was a very pleasant sail under spinnaker north along the Atlantic coast to Atlantic City where we had to spend two nights due to the remnants of Tropical Storm Barry passing through. How it rained! The only place with enough depth of water for us was the municipal marina run by the Trump company. Most of the town seemed to be owned by Donald Trump. It was extremely expensive at $144 per night. The town is like Las Vegas with huge fanciful hotels housing massive casinos. At $10 per chip on the cheapest tables we could not afford to play but it was an experience just walking round. We found a Hard Rock Café. This is the well known chain, but the one at Atlantic City is exceptional. Around the wall were memorabilia: gold disks, guitars and clothes from every famous rock group you could think of, from the Beatles on. The house speciality cocktail is the "Hurricane", the largest I have ever seen. Anyone who got through one (me!) was given the glass. Through the wind and rain we saw a part of the famous Boardwalk which runs all along the front, with fair ground stalls and guys pushing people in double wicker seats on wheels. It is the top valued street in the original version of Monopoly. |
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New York is much like London, only taller. I have been up the Empire State building, seen the Natural History Museum and the Metropolitan Museum of Art, cycled around Central Park, visited Macey’s, Barney’s and Bloomingdales, walked round Greenwich Village and the Wall Street area, traveled by subway and bus, shopped at the magnificent local deli, Zabar’s, and had a hair cut. Tuesday night we went to the theatre and saw Les Miserables.
New York to Lake Ontario
Our parcel arrived and we departed New York, sailing up the Hudson River. The scenery was lovely with much woodland and rocky mountains and palisades, sheer rock faces. We did not spend "a night on Bear Mountain", but did follow the nature trail up the hill. For all the way along Hudson there were railway tracks on both sides. The fast passenger trains used the east side, and the lumbering goods trains with on average a hundred trucks, used the west shore. They were noisy, blowing their horns when nearing the towns. We made a stop at New Hamburg Yacht Club who were very welcoming and claimed to be the only free yacht club in New York State. At Catskill we stayed a few nights at the Creekside, or Hop-O-Nose, marina and had our mast unstepped and rested on some lumber holding it about six feet above our deck. The creek was rather a pleasant place and had a handy Wal-Mart with cheap taxis. There was also a very fast free wifi connection we could make from the marina on the opposite side of the creek, always a bonus.
We made Albany in one day from Catskill, even with the engine losing all its water again from the same place as before, requiring the heat exchanger and bracket over the thermostat to be removed and replaced twice before we managed to stop it leaking. Hurrah for gaskit goo! One of the studs broke as well, but by reversing the broken end we managed to get it to hold. I hope we don’t keep getting this leaking problem.
Albany is the capital of New York State and has another Rockefeller Plaza to explore. This huge area extends between the State Capitol building and a Cultural Education building, with an expanse of water and fountains running the length between. Around this are fifteen memorials, various structures of art by artists recently deceased, lawns and trees, four matching skyscrapers and an even taller tower with an observation deck. Underneath, apart from vast car parks, is a concourse housing many places to eat and touristy shops. The above ground area is peaceful with interesting views and worth a visit. The Education building houses a museum with some wonderful, lifelike exhibits. It covers the history of the people who have made New York what it is, what happened at the World Trade Centre, life in the Adirondack area which is largely ancient woodland and waterways, and some other interesting exhibits.
We walked through about half of the city centre and saw many architecturally interesting buildings. The State University of New York looked rather like a very clean version of the houses of parliament at Westminster. There was a strong Dutch influence in many buildings and some English churches, both countries having had ownership of the city in the past.
After visiting the launderette and getting in some more food, we left Albany in the morning and continued up the Hudson River past Troy to Waterford, where we turned off to the Erie Canal and our first lock. It was not a wide lock but it took us up over 30 feet.
The first four locks were close together and all around 30 feet rises. After that the locks were either five or ten miles apart. We stopped the first night at the top of lock seven, where the lock keeper told us we could have free electricity from the lampost on the wall. The day had been one of the hottest in the New York State and we heard that the temperatures in Albany reached over a hundred degrees! They don’t know about centigrade over here. There was a park at the top of the lock and a family came along from there to the wall and started to enjoy jumping into the water. So we too decided to have a swim and were surprised at just how warm the water was. We have had little opportunity to swim since Puerto Rico.
The next day was also going to be very hot but the clouds started to build and thunder storms were forecast for the afternoon. After around twenty miles we went under a road bridge where Amsterdam was signed off one end and Rotterdam signed off the other end! Another five miles brought us past Amsterdam as we went through lock 11. As we approached lock 12 the thunderstorms had begun and I was welcoming the first drops of refreshing rain. The lock keeper informed us that he had lost his electricity and we would have to wait at the wall until he could open the lock. I had a lovely shower under the rain (Andrew handed me the soap) and then we waited another hour before we could go through the lock. It was then half past four and we would have gone on for another couple of hours, but the sky was still showing signs of storms so we tied up at the top of lock 12. The lock keeper told us we had been very lucky because we had just missed a mini tornado that had passed through lock 11 taking out trees and some roofs. The sky grew very dark with swirling black clouds, the lightening flashed away and the thunder clapped and crackled. Gusts of wind came at us from different angles, but nothing serious happened. The humidity was hundred percent and nothing, including ourselves, got dry.
The next day was partly overcast and good breeze kept it comfortable all day. Lock 17 at Little Falls, was the highest lift at 40 feet. Two small motorboats followed us into the lock. The scenery was dramatic here with sheer rock cliffs which are good for rock climbing. A few miles after lock 18 we stopped for the night at the little town of Ilion, after towing in a motorboat with engine failure. Ilion is home to the Remington arms factory. We visited their small museum and saw the huge range of small arms that the factory has made over the last two centuries, including the famous 'Double Derringer' pistol that features in many western movies. There are a few other sidelines like sewing machines and typewriters.
The next day I spent visiting dentists and waiting for taxis. The Ilion dentist took a panoramic x-ray and decided I needed to see the specialist dentist for root canal treatment, but I could have an appointment there in the next hour. Unfortunately the taxi was so busy it took an hour to pick me up. It was not a cheap trip to Utica and the treatment was very expensive but fortunately the remains of my tooth were saved and I did not have to be referred to another dentist for an extraction!
We continued up the Mohawk River and Erie Canal to Rome where we gathered on the motorboat “Barefoot Again” with other boaters for drinks. Along with owners Ken and Sharon were Joyce and Barry from another yacht with the mast down and an Englishman, David, on a huge motorboat he had just bought. It looked a bit of a white elephant to us, but he seemed highly pleased. In the morning we visited a very interesting reconstruction of Stanwick Fort in the middle of the town. A wooden fort, it had been built to protect the important portage between Lake Ontario and the Mohawk river, then was a British stronghold during the War of Independence. Long since lost, the site of the old fort was rediscovered in the centre of the town thirty years ago, and cleared of all the properties and roads so that the fort could be reconstructed complete with surrounding ditches and park. The buildings inside were furnished and had costumed ‘residents’ ready to impart information.
Continuing on our way we went through our first two ‘down’ locks and came to the 20-mile long Oneida Lake. The wind was blowing strongly along its length crating a nasty chop littered with white horses. We decided it would not be pleasant, especially with the mast on the deck, and waited till 6 in the morning when it was calm. By ten we moored alongside the municipal park in Brewerton for a break and wander round the corner to the neighbouring marina’s store for a chart. Whilst there we were stopped by a couple of guys from a TV company (NBC) who were looking for boaters for a story about a possible mandatory tracking device for yachts. They asked to come aboard for a ten-minute trip for filming and ask us a few questions. The boat and us were looking somewhat scruffy but no matter, the guys were keen and did their stuff. We hope to get a video later.
We continued to Syracuse where Andrew’s father had worked in the early 1950's. We crossed the lake and entered a narrow opening leading to a new marina in the town, but at the final turn it was too shallow to continue and so we returned to the lake and anchored in a sheltered corner at the northern end. It was a pretty spot with a park alongside. There were two exercise tracks, one for roller blades, bicycles, skateboards, etc. and the other for pedestrians. It seemed very popular with the keep fitters.
The following day we back-tracked a little and took the Oswego canal down several locks to Oswego, on the shores of Lake Ontario. Here we met Ken and Sharon again and spent a boozy evening together. The following morning our mast was put up again. It took us all the day in drizzling showers, to get everything put back together and working again, and tidy below. That was July 4th. The town had had its Indepence Day celebrations on the previous Sunday, which was a shame to have missed, but they were wise since the 4th proved to be a washout. We had another pleasant evening with a local couple who were having their mast stepped at the same time as us. Tom, a keen back-packer in the nearby forests, was very interested in reading about sailors who explored out of the way places or made extensive voyages, and although he now had this yacht, his wife Chris had not yet been sailing.
We checked out with Customs (by phone) and were now ready to leave the USA and sail across Lake Ontario to Canada. |
