ALL HANDS
[Last issue ended June 25, there was a lot of waiting in Punto Fijo, Venezuela, for a chance to get up on the railway, for work to get done on the rudder, hull, engine, for paint for the bottom, to find a suitable mast replacement - eventually a streetlight pole.9/12July stretched into August. Apogee moved from the ship yard to a mooring near the diesel mechanic's garage, good protection from the steady east wind, friendly households ashore, relief from the problem of pilfering kids. Jib problem didn't get solved locally so when Peg planned to come down, assuming the boat would be ready to sail by August 20th, Pete had her bring 2 engine bearings and ordered a new self-furllng jib for her to bring. Fairing at 7' was too long for personal luggage limitations, so she sent it ahead by air freight to be met by her at Caracas customs. 5 days after she arrived in Punto Fijo, Momito got the engine running, so we charged batteries, had the refrigerator cool for a couple of days, read by electric light in the evening, till the engine stopped again. High pressure pumps had to be sent to Caracas for rebuilding. Meanwhile Radio Holland was talking and faxlng powers of attorney to Caracas to try to get the jib fairing transported to Punto Fijo. Some exploring of the town, a Sunday ride across the Peninsula to an east coast resort for a seafood dinner, but although she swam off the boat daily, Peg returned to NYC without any sailing. And the frustrations of mañana country continued through Labor Day and the arrival of Bud Harter, bringing a new inflatable dinghy. A week of Bud's vacation was used up on waiting and boat chores. - P.K.]
Even mañana stops after a while. The fairing did come today, not at 8:30 as promised, but before 3:00 pm. So up and at'em. Assembled about dark and quit - it's now lying full length from rudder to forward end of bowsprit and horizontal across half of Momito's boat, ready to go up tomorrow at the crack of dawn. So today was a good day, progress made. We are closing to the point of NO try for PR, but Bud is game and would take a chance on calling his boss.9/13We quit before dark yesterday. I was getting hectic and hurried. Roller was together but not set up tight. Bud stopped it. I bristled for a moment, then admitted my haste and tension. Stop, cleanup once, and then the girls showed up - two of my lunch-providing ladies and another, paddled out by a fisherman client of Momito's. But we are soon to leave. Must go, the empty beer cans will build up under us and we'll be aground!9/15A spell in Venezuela, which hardly qualifies as third world, makes me realize how rich fat and soft we norteamerlcanos are. So many things we take for granted are just not there, and not even in most people's minds desirable, or perhaps even extant. While my boat was up on the railway, I boarded ashore with the family of a yard employee, and later with other families. They were not the poorest, but were close to the bottom of the heap. Meals were served to men - one or two at a time, wait your turn. Women ate on the fly, usually standing because there were not enough chairs. Kids fed on a dish or tin and sent out to eat on the stoop. Big mama (and BIG) invariably runs the house - three generations at least, with some husbands off fishing, or day laboring away.
I didn't get into or familiar with an unemployed household, but did peek into some, saw no difference. BARE. A picture, a table, two chairs, rudimentary kitchen alcove with little workspace and less light. Washing clothes was the great effort and space allocation, all done by hand of course, and all ironed, even sox. All decrepit but tidy and very clean. Even the street is swept right in front of the house. Of course it's swept into the pile at the edge, or across into a gutter, and there is always a pile of real nastiness nearby. Mangy dogs nose through the pile now and again, keeping it spread and aerated. Cats are tolerated but kept outdoors. The thing that impressed me most was the lack of THINGS. No furniture. no relief from the bare concrete that houses are made of. Well off families will have a parlor set up with furniture, table, tablecloth, even artificial flowers, but only used for company or "negotiations" (read business).
Money is unbelievable. Bolivars, the paper money, are 40 to 50 to the dollar. So the bus fare to downtown, in a publicly snared taxi is 7 Bs. just went up from 5 Bs. Bottle of iced beer is 10 Bs. Local veggies are good and cheap. Anything imported is expensive. People seemed friendly and open to me. I worked hard at undermining the impression that all us Americans are rich, and it's upstream work, against the facts.
Most impressive in the area that I saw was the flatness. A hundred-foot cliff at or near the shore is almost universal, and from there to the horizon, flat, FLAT, FLAT. No roll. No relief. Near desert dryness. Cactus and thorny hard growth, populated by iguanas, parrots, and scrawny goats. Not enough moisture for mosquitoes. That's the bit of the Paraguana peninsula that I saw. There must be something else - they have manufacturing (hecho in Venezuela) steel, cement. plastics. canned food, most household stuff. Gorgeous mahogany boards 1 x 12 nominal at 90 Bs (per meter?) Oil industry and fishing is it in Punto Fijo. I'm glad I went, glad I was detained there long enough to see as much as I saw. Gladder yet that I don't have to go on seeing it or living in that banana republic political mess.
At sea and at leisure. Started near noon on 9/13, watch and watch ever since. We've been tight on the wind and trying to pinch every ounce of easting out of it. NFG, losing a little every day. Before daylight today it lifted us into close haul and we are screaming along on big easy seas. But feeling good after a day of gas and not eating. Fixes show us about half way over to PR, which seems to be the answer to Bud's time schedule. The Venezuelan Islands will be there another year, and I ought to check out with Isaac in Tortola before calling my jib finished. So PR now, rest and dry out - we are WET! Fuel full, water, almost full. Groceries somewhat doubtful because the refrigerator man didn't show till the last minute. OK nobody will starve. Bud is a good cook, better than I by far, also feels at home on a boat, steers, ties knots, understands limitations, cheerful and good company. How did I get so lucky?9/16Finally today we got everything balanced and Apogee is self steering on a good course. Gorgeous day too. Bouncy waves, bright hot sun, spray enough to cool the bod, couple of hundred miles to PR. Wet. The boat leaks in many places, all seem to be over beds or storage. Major effort in that direction, the mast hole seems to be OK, most of the deck-to-hull joint forward of the house dribbles. Not dangerous but annoying and slick. Stove is getting cranky as well as rusty. Do I dare build one out of stainless steel? Burners are easily replaced, and with Piezo lighters.
Sundown a couple of hours ago. Bud's just relieved me and lo and behold the engine won't start. Maybe I'll have a bright idea in the morning. I was afraid we'd never have a disaster at all!9/18 in MayagüezDisaster enough. When the engine died, we were conserving electric. Our course had been good, so when we sighted land we expected it would be PR, but the headlands were the wrong shape and missing a lighthouse. Put on the Sat Nav, and sure enough it was Mona Island, 10 or 20 miles west of target, 40 miles west of Guanica. (Target had changed to Mayagüez as Bud's time ran out.) Wind soft and Northeast. Course Northeast. Nowhere to go but upwind and up current. Three tries to go North on the east side of Mona. Nope. No wind at all in the shelter of the island, and a knot or more of adverse current. OK, try the west side. A bit more air, same current. Midnight and no moon, a million tacks with several tangled jib halyards (only one at a time thank God) each of which lost us a half mile or so.9/21OK, daylight found us close to Desecheo, an island west and a trifle north of Mayagüez, maybe 30 miles away. Great, but wind kept dying. Dark found us there and tacking back and forth, crossing former paths, still not actually within sight of Mayagüez. And next day the same. Not more or less the same, but exactly the same. We finally called the Coast Guard for information on a commercial tow. Once we'd said it was not a MayDay situation, they could do nothing themselves, did try to locate someone, but didn't find anyone. After dark a very light fair breeze brought us into the bight of Mayagüez and we anchored in the outer harbor at 4:30 am. Exhausted, flopped into wet beds, wearing wet clothes.
Seven am and daylight in the outer harbor there was no current, but it still took us 3 hours to get to the customs wharf - where there is no customs. Have to taxi a coupla three miles to town. OK, we did. Bud all packed and changed and chafing at the bit to catch his plane that left SJ at 7:30. Customs shut down for lunch, back at 2:00 pm! Bud gave me passport numbers and took a cab for the airport after a brief goodbye.
I started a search for diesel and refrigeration help. No luck. Did the customs biz when they opened, shopped in the Warehouse supermercado (stacked boxes of foods, few prices, ample dirt. Busy, so it must be cheap). Taxi back to the boat. Port Authority of PR in Mayagüez will let me sit until repaired for $5 a day, cheap enough. But so far no diesel mechanic. OK I'll get the rest straightened out while waiting for many promises of "sending someone". Telephone - my credit cards works. Called Stan, Margotty, Peg this am. Plenty to eat. Cafeteria with beer on the premises. Time is the only loss now, but I may live out my life on the wharf at Customs' old place of biz!
My second night in Mayagüez and I've already accumulated a million disasters - wet clothes and bed, fouled water tank, what appears to be fouled diesel tanks too. I can't get fuel out of them with enough flow to start the engine. Much more digging before I find out all the FAX, but it looks like removing the tanks to blow them out thoroughly. Rodding out the lines and fittings, getting rid of 10 or 15 gals of contaminated fuel, which may well be illegal as well as difficult.9/221853 - I'm in the police station! Voluntarily sitting in their empty lobby taking advantage of their wasted electric light. Boat is getting clean but not dry. It rains every day here, 50 km from the driest spot in territorial USA (my guess). OK patience, there IS a mechanic, recommended by two different parties, one of which SAID he'd fetch him over, and t'other has phoned him twice for me. Promises I have. 10:30, noon, 4 pm, and then he showed in person to say he couldn't come now but would be back at 5. Nice to have seen him at least. Black, bushy beard, but only one head. No idea what his name is yet, but he appears to be an able young man.
Meantime I've checked out the fuel systems, charged the batteries at a nearby gas station, started the drying out process (our usual day tank has gone foul and I'm going to give it a serious clorox douche and dismount it - douche here but dismount and rinse in Guaypao). I've also done a little work aloft, need to cut a pad eye off the mast, it interferes with rocking the throat of the main. Also some addition to the jib hoist which sometimes tangles itself. So it's terrible, but no worse than Venezuela and this telephone works! No ice cream though. There must be, but I've only been in town once. May make it tomorrow, waiting for no-show mechanics is a full time job. I don't dare leave my station.
They came, they saw, they conquered not. 11:30 the mechanic arrived, he'd said MORNING - it was, but -- Many llttle chores done, but no shopping. The problem was an adjustment to the pump that feeds very high pressure fuel to the injectors. Took the mechanic 10 seconds to flx, after nearly an hour to locate!9/23I took off about 1 pm after a bitter go with the shore cop about money. He wanted full rate, the secretary offered me 60% of the minimum because I came in distress. I won, but had to pay a dime to call his boss. 10 cents for $7 that time. Now at 4, with a fair reach, I turned into the lighthouse cove - carefully and under power, jib rolled in. Lots of 5' and 6' on the fatho, but no touchee feelee and not very far in. No place for hard weather with my draft. Secure with 2 anchors. Potatoes and carrots and roast beef from a can on the way. Early start planned for morning. and probably a long day (20 miles) of beating. Calm now, but I'm in no shape for a dark night at the helm. All hopped up, I couldn't sleep.
Up at 9:15 pm and almost started coffee! Back for another snooze, and up for real at 11. Anchors up, still night, but a long gentle swell coming straight in the opening! It's a Perfectly gorgeous cove. Round sand beach backed by palms and mangrove with a pair of great cliffs at the opening. 7' of water at the bar, so a big swell would have borne me on the bottom in hard weather. I've seen this place and wondered -- now I've done it. Powering straight through would get me home at a very early hour, better a delay here and arrive in Guaypao at dawn. So off under power just after 11, breakfast under way: cold boiled egg, toast and coffee.
Heading well off shore to avoid the La Parquera reefs, 2 hours at 200 magnetic, then 4 at East, and sure enough, I'm in my own puddle as the sun comes up. Mooring in a messy tangle but no real difficulty.Home! Wouldn't you have liked to be along? Next sortie will probably be to Tortola for the rigging, and on through British Virgin Islands, and other islands south and east. Put in your bids quick!