ALL HANDS [Peg Kocher's Journal of the Apogee's voyage from St. Thomas to Ensenada]
Sunday, 1/24. (Not written till about Wednesday)
Arrival at Frenchtown uneventful. Pete had been up the mast most of the morning, and was eager to lunch at the local bar to bid farewell to Jim and Jeff, boatmen who had helped with repairs, lived on their boats, and enjoyed Pete's tales. Cast off soon after to get away from the inner harbor. Glad to be in shorts & t-shirt as the 80ƒ heat seemed truly tropical after the chill and snow of NYC.Monday, 1/25The engine works, most of the electrics operating. We powered out to a sheltered cove in the lee of a small island where three other sailboats were already anchored. Good breeze to ventilate us at night, especially with Pete's technique of ropes with weights that let him keep us at a chosen angle to the wind. Crew on neighboring boat hard at work, scraping,painting. I had a good swim in the luxurious water. Used my mask for the only snorkeling of the trip. Sandy bottom, but a fair variety of fish, not much quantity. Delighted to see rejuvenation of small brain coral, small fire coral, indicating some improvement in water quality.
Suppertime pretty early [I had been up till 2 am clearing off my desk], steaks I had brought were not quite unfrozen, so we ate them pretty rare. Not wanting to be extravagant with battery-fed lights, we went to bed early throughout the trip.
Up early as is our wont. Nude swim in semi-darkness around all the neighboring boats. By daybreak we were heading for the destroyer anchored at the mouth of the broad harbor, which we'd circled before settling into our cove the day before. After the usual 10 minute compression of the refrigerator, we were ready to run up the sails. But that didn't go so smoothly. Mainsail slides kept sticking. Back to the anchorage for some figuring. Pete thought he'd have to go up the mast again. But we decided to try grease first. Unhooked the gaff and sail from the slides, and put gobs of grease on the top slide, and got it up. A few more runs, and with ropes and sticks we levered the gaff and sail back into position to fasten the shackles. Raised the main, greasing each slide as it went up.Tuesday 1/26Underway again by 11 or so, with enough breeze outside the harbor to move us along at a good clip downwind. In fact before we got to Sail Rock, Pete decided we should take a reef in the main. He may have regretted that, as my ability to hold us just enough into the wind was not highly developed. A lot of swinging of the boom before he was done. How can the stays stand it? Lunch as we cruised downwind again, making good time, with our goal an anchorage at Culebra. Local legend says that during the years of fighting for domination of the islands, a French privateer harassing British boats was passing Sail Rock at night. [Must have been a much darker night than the brilliant moonlit nights we had] He thought it was a ship, and started firing on it. It didn't sink, and he used up all his ammunition, only to find in the morning that it was an unsinkable rock.
We could see Culebra by the time we passed Sail Rock, and the steady easterlies brought us close by mid afternoon. Without a detailed chart for the long harbor in the center of the island, Pete kept us outside, and we pulled up near the ferry wharf at Dewey, the main town, and anchored. Secure for the night, we inflated the dinghy and Pete rowed us ashore to look for postcards, flashlights, maybe some fresh vegetables, and Dick Hayes, a sailor Pete knew from Wiscasset. A slightly plastered ex pilot sold us icecream cones and postcards, bantered about the whole island being closed down Thursday through Monday, and only opening up again with the Tuesday morning arrival of the ferry. But he directed us to Hayes' hangout a mile up the road. Started out, but only went a few steps before we came to a dive shop, where we found more postcards, a chart with detailed insets of many harbors on PR and other islands, a replacement strap for my mask, who's strap had broken off with only a half inch to secure it. Around the corner we also found a market open that sold flashlights, but had no fresh food -- and of course we forgot to buy cookies that had been finished off the week before. In the chitchat with the manager, another customer overhead us asking about Hayes, and when we came out offered to drive us there in a jeep as soon as her husband came back from an errand. Nice. That gave us a guided tour of the hill on the near side of the harbor, a glimpse of the guesthouse run by Hayes(?). They dropped us off at a steep unmarked path down to the water, where sure enough we found Hayes & his wife, just back from a jaunt in a daysailer. He was hailing a local rowing a boat with an outboard, offering to tow him home, when down the steps came another local with a couple of pieces of engine that weren't fitting together. Helped him out with tools while his wife finished securing the sailboat. Then the 4 of us got into Hayes' outboard and towed the other guy to his house on one side of the little canal that goes through from the inner harbor to the outside wharf at Dewey. The four of us went on out to Apogee to show the Hayes the boat and have a drink and some cheese and crackers in the setting sun. Much talk of boats and mutual acquaintances.
They took us back to shore, insisting that we have another drink at the bar, and then they went on home, and we went out to the garden and had a good fish supper. Back to our dinghy and out to the boat to sleep, late. It must have been 9:45! Mailed some of our postcards at the PO there [but was disappointed to see when Eric got his that it was postmarked San Juan].
My habit is not more than about 6 hours at a stretch in bed, so I was awake about 5 and went overboard for a swim at 5:30. I was astonished when I was 100 yards or so out from Apogee to see a boat with lights approaching rather quickly. I spurted to get behind Apogee as searchlights raked her. Turned out to be the ferry. We were anchored in her usual path, but she had plenty of room to maneuver around us.Wednesday 1/27We got underway about 7:30, heading southewest through the passage between PR and Vieques. Downwind and smooth, making about 41/2 knots. Boats occasionally visible. Kept a hat & sunblock on, but didn't need to put on the long sleeved shirt as we were in and out of clouds. Hit the buoys we were looking for and made our way into the long harbor to Roosevelt Naval Base, where Pete wanted to check out the Veteran's marina he had heard about. Followed buoys down a wide channel past a bunch of Canadian warships to the far end where we could see lots of boats our size and smaller at an anchorage that showed on the chart. Spoke to a man on a boat about who was allowed to use the place, and then came around to pick up a mooring. We settled in to have lunch, rather delayed by the effort of getting down the sails in the brisk wind outside the harbor. Just ready to eat when two navy enlisted men in camouflage fatigues showed up in the marina's launch. Turned out we'd violated all kinds of base rules and they had a whole bunch of forms for Pete to fill out. Me too for that matter. License, Social Security number, place of birth. We were to check out with Port Control to get permission to leave, stay to the far right of the channel, etc. All of which we did half an hour later after enjoying our lunch. In doing a radio check, Pete thought he couldn't turn the radio on, but it turned out it had been on all along, and couldn't be turned off -- probably accounting for the slight drain on the electric circuit with all lights off. Easily taken care of by unplugging the radio.
Back in the open passage, still lots of wind and some sea. Sails up, we cruised the shore, picking out a tiny harbar with a breakwater as our destination. Much reef & rocks along the shore, so we stayed fairly well out. Had a devil of a time getting the sails down in the big wind. Especially getting the boom crotch up and the boom secure on it. As we came through the very narrow entry between two breakwaters, I was worried about the depth, but Pete recognized that such a new development with breakwaters meant a dredged basin. Buildings, townhouse style, all along the concrete waterfront, handsome houses on the highlands behind, a few sail and power-boats well inside an inner breakwater. We put down the anchor, glad to enjoy the good shelter and time off from watching reefs and rocks. At least the roundsteak was defrosted, but with no wine to marinate it in, it could have been more tender. Mushrooms and onions on top, avocado salad on the side. Russian dressing among the supplies gleaned from the end of others' charter trips. Bed, hoping for an early start.
Awake early, Pete had a dip and got cold even swimming around the boat. While trying to get in at least 200 strokes, I noticed one jib line caught under the bow and asked Pete about it. I couldn't get it free of the bow and Pete couldn't free it from on board, so I went in again to try to trace it. I could follow it down to the keel, but didn't have enough wind to follow it to the end. Pete thought it would be on the screw, so I started from the back, and sure enough, it was tangled on the screw, but just the very end of the rope and I could get it off with my hands. By then it was daylight, and I took some pictures while Pete checked engine and transmission oil. Found the alternator belt was loose, and reluctantly agreed that it should be tightened here in shelter, rather than risk having to do it at sea. Breakfast first. Got out my knitting while Pete assembled tools, dissassembled a baffle,unloaded stored oil, and settled cushions on the engine to lie on as he fiddled away at adjusting the belt. Much handing back and forth of wrenches and channel pliers, boards to use as wedges, for an hour or so of uncomfortable work.Thursday 1/28 - a splendid day.Finally got ourselves together about 11, started engine, and headed straight through the breakers under power, intending to set up the sail outside, and head around the mountainous SE corner of PR to the south shore. But when we got outside, the wind and the waves were at odds, making a rough sea, and I urged that we go to shelter in the next harbor to set up sails. We came to a tanker basin in just a few miles, with a long well marked but narrow channel between reefs, and found relative shelter. As we were going in, Pete noticed a block swinging, and was able to catch it and tie it down. Inexplicably the block on the throat halyard had lost its cotter pin and was twisting around all the lines. We anchored near a big repair shed for seagoing barges, and Pete was happy to have caught the block before it got out of reach. He discovered a lazyjack line had also given way. But we had lunch before he went after that.
We listened to the radio, "deteriorating weather", pored over the map, and reluctantly agreed to stay over in this harbor, if the barge operators didn't object. We inflated the dinghy and rowed over to ask if it would be OK for us to tie up to their wharf. They were quite willing, but Pete almost lost that essential piece of equipment, his Spanish-English dictionary when he was climbing back onto Apogee . Fortunately he had put it in a zip lock bag, and it floated, looking like a package of sponges, until he caught up with it in the dinghy.
Pete then decided to put an anchor out to port before we tied up to the wharf to have something to hold off with and ease our morning departure. A big sweeping circle to get into place, one anchor down, then move to shore and I would fix a bow line to one of the enormous truck tires that served as fenders for the barges. Thanks to Pete's skill at putting the boat wherever he wants it, it worked out very well.
Time for a beer, and chafing over having to sit around and wait. Not me. I was glad to finish writing postcards. Didn't have time to read before a French Ketch showed up in the basin. We watched it anchor further in, but they didn't seem to like the bottom, and went across to the far side, which we had rejected as less protected. After a bit I guess they came to the same conclusion, for they came over to the wharf and tied up near us. Turned out they'd been in some kind of trans-Atlantic race, two men and a young man whom we talked to. They seemed busy enough without our asking them over for a drink, and we soon had ours and dinner.
Dinner used up Pete's hamburg, with a stew of onion, celery, green pepper & tomato over noodles. Mashed butternut squash. 7 pm, Pete pretty bushed from all the repairs and frustrations and yesterday's efforts on raising and lowering sails with a neophyte helmswoman. I on the other hand was wakeful, and began writing this up by flashlight.
Up for first coffee at 5:30. Some complications from the French boat tied up over the same cleats and tires, nullifying our best efforts with the anchor. But the night had been quiet. Surprised to find another enormous barge tied up behind us. Guided ourselves by the red and green harbor entrance lights while Pete cleared the anchors. Then a slow circle around the whole basin while he cleared the lines and got the mainsail up. Then out through the solid regular surf under power, and headed SW 100 yards past the flashing green to go inside the reefs to Tuna Point. Much less sea than yesterday afternoon, sail full almost at once. Morning light showing between clouds on the port side. Calm and pleasant as the sun lit the tops of the clouds and the house and street lights began to fade from the hillsides. Pete cooked up his usual good breakfast, scrambled eggs and the solid whole wheat toast and jam at 7:15. Wonderfully gentle rise and slide down the waves as we moved along downwind by the southern shore, now close to follow the shore road with an eye to bicycling, occasionally moving further out to avoid reefs where the lines of breaking waves stood out in the bright sun. Making better than 5 knots with almost no effort, at least on my part. Pete kept spotting stretches he'd scouted on his motora, towns where he'd had a flat fixed, not quite every bar and ice cream joint where he'd stopped to inquire about accommodations. Good conversation about the hazards and limitations in aging. My thoughts ran to the benefit of the short sea day yesterday (only 5 miles toward destination, but everything shipshape that needed to be fixed, and start in today rested, while the weather had turned itself around to make today lovely.) Horizontal light early picking out contours of the hills.Friday 1/29The French Boat 146 showed behind us about 9:00 am, with its double jibs billowing out and a jigger behind. It gradually caught up with us, passing well outside our path by maybe 2 pm. Pete had put up our mizzen by noon. The jib had gone up soon after we cut the motor early in the morning. [We had tested the small jib for self steering a day or two before, and it had worked quite well stabilizing through a range of 20ƒ.] But Apogee was not difficult to keep on course with a light hand on the tiller, although it took steady attention to the compass and the sails, not conducive to reading or knitting. Pete was using waxed thread, pocket sized vicegrip and occasionally an awl to sew a new zipper into his foul weather jacket, one stitch at a time.
A couple of showers during the course of the day, but not enough to chill us. As we approached the islands south of Ponce, we paid close attention to our charts, to avoid some real shallow spots and the visible reefs "You can see why I don't care to sail these waters at night." Still some oozing up through cracks in the floor, particularly in rough water, but very little when we were anchored, easily controlled by terry rags, wrung out periodically and hung over the railings to dry.
Bacardi factory showed to starboard, the island of Caja de los Muertos on the port side. A container loading crane that seemed to be on the far side of the harbor turned out to be on the east side. Holiday Inn high on a shoulder west of town that we had passed on our bikes a year ago. Soon the entrance buoy showed and the light house on a little island. Quite a stiff breeze now. Pete tightened the mizzen, took in the jib before we jibed into the harbor. Caribbean Tuna boat docked near what must have been the fish factory from the smell. Range markers and buoys to guide us in the channel. We headed for some masts in a little cove. They turned out to be mostly boats the size of sailfish, and it seemed very shallow, but it was sheltered and quiet, and we were glad to drop anchor and have a drink. Then on to the more serious business of a beef stew from a can of beef, stringbeans, pineapple and poring over the chart for the details of tomorrow's planned run to Guanica Bay homeport. Brilliant quarter moon and balmy air lured me out on deck for a couple of hours when I was wakeful in the night.
Up at 5, determined to get to Ensenada. Quiet water, but the overnight wind shift had us hanging in water of unknown depth. Engine going, Pete put up the mainsail, and we backed into the main channel. Lighthouse & flashing green buoys we had come in by were clearly visible and went out on course, under power, Pete trailing out the mileage log so we would be aware when to watch out for the narrow opening into Guanica Bay. Tailwinds still, but very gentle seas and we soon cut the motor. Sun and clouds alternating. Excitement rising as Pete kept recognizing landmarks from his frequent trips to Ponce by land.Long plumes from the industries of Ponce and the stacks of refineries west along the shore, Tallaboa Patillas. Breakfast of our last 4 eggs in a cheese omelet and our last 2 slices of the good wheat bread toasted. Nice light across the hills. Finished some knitting, sewed up the shirt to wear home. Pete finished his zipper.
Headlands rising ahead. A high tower just visible, probably the one that carries wires across the mouth of Guanica Bay. But an unfamiliar development on the shore. Was this the rumored Club Med? Bits of food, as we knew we would be busy once we turned in. And yes, we spotted another tower, definitely Guanica, and the buoys began to show up as charted when we got abeam of the opening itself. Pete took in the log, and we turned towards the fertilizer factory, lined up the range markers, put the jib to bed, but sailed all the way in on gentle winds to the sugar factory opposite Pete's front door. A passing fishing boat recognized Pete and shouted to us. Great feeling of accomplishment in finally sailing in. Satisfaction of a promise to himself.
We dropped anchor close to the little island in front of Pete's house, near two other boats. Pete put out a second and a third anchor to keep Apogee from swinging into trouble. Muddy bottom, depth unsounded. Secure about 11:30 am.
Went ashore with a load in the dinghy, planning to walk to Ayala's for keys. Great excitement among the neighbors, all in Spanish. [Police actually on hand inspecting new wharf of a neighbor, not for us.] On the way, another neighbor told us Ayala was in Ponce, would be back in a few hours. So we went back to the boat for a couple more loads, spread winter clothes on the fence to air, got the wheelbarrow parts out of the bottom of lockers. At 4 started back to Ayala's and met Ramon on the way to us with the keys, and went back to his house to greet his wife, and pick up 3 packages and a big manilla envelope of mail. Even the motora was in working condition, although back tire was a bit soft. And after putting the spare battery to charge, Pete went off to get some things at the market, while I enjoyed the luxury of a warm, fresh water shower, and telephoned about arrangements for return to NYC. We went back onto the boat eventually to eat and sleep, and found it somewhat in the mud, so moved it a bit further out. Slept some, but had to be at Ayala's at 5:30 for the publico to San Juan airport, so it wasn't long before we were in the dinghy again for the trip to shore.
Pete will have to take over from there.