Boy I would ring an internet gurus neck if I could find one. I always want to write when there is no vehicle. And today, I have had the perfect day for the trece de Julio.I really have lots of things to share but a perfect day is a perfect day.
I worry a lot about things that don’t matter, a given fact. Sometimes worrying pays off, but rarely. So I woke up worrying about the aft bilge. Mostly because I had a weird dream and couldn’t remember the last time I peeked down there.Worse than monsters under the bed.
So after my Dominican coffee, raisin toast and pineapple with mango, the dogs and I set off to spy on the ocean from afar. There's a cut-through usually bound with thorns and stickers at the crest of the road, and off we chase down a paved road, complete with cement gutters decorated with rocks, all overgrown as part of a past development project. You have to be wary of the open manhole covers, now removed probably for scrap, down the middle of the road. My neighbor here has told me tales of burying pot up here for the security of not having it on the boat, and I wonder if its all gone now. We trot into afew clearings that must have once been potential home sites. A very odd critter shoots across the road ahead of us, not a cat, not a squirrel and since there are no vermin here, I am not quite sure what it was. The dogs choose not to ford the one foot gutter for fear they will mess their dos and feign sudden indifference. Such wusses. We cross another discarded street and crest over the brambles to view the ocean with cliffs on one side and a breakwater and private home on the other and the most incredible vast blue waters as far as you can see. Lots of sniffing, looking for cow treats, no doubt (not me, the dogs.) I watch a small herd of goats along the cliffs, with one trying to get down the cliff the hard way, and suddenly there's Max down on the beach having a goat-herders' fit. Alma and I shrug and head back for the streets, me whistling frantically. Don’t want to buy chivo for dinner tonight, thanks. Max finally shows up, no goats in tow and we head back to de-tangle and remove burrs. No water on the dock today, no dog baths you lucky sand muffins.
Eventually I sidle up to The Captain and mention my strong desire to de-bilge the bilge, cupful by cupful. Well, I don’t want to get the hand pump dirty, so I though we could make a vessel and I could use a drinking cup… OK, so finally agree to do it the easy way, and get the pump and a bucket and clump down to our stateroom and pump two buckets of mostly water(you don’t want to know what else could be down there…) out of the bilge. Having water in the bilges is a natural expectancy for the Capt., but for me it still means we are that much closer to sinking, so it must go. That was so easy, I volunteer to check the forward bilge, and manage to remove 10 gallons of water, and wipe it down so it looks nice too. OK so I am on a different plane than most boaters….I am not not Marfa Stewat, mind you, just different. Rock made a sign for our house in Eastover,SC years ago that said ‘Marfa don’t live here’ and just the other night we tried to have a sane discussion with someone here who is a true believer that Marfa improves women's lives, not exploits them. To each her own, Marfa definitely would have approved of my cleaning the bilge by hand, but I did not paint a decorative border so I probably failed her bilge 101 class outright.
And more perfection, two loads of laundry washed and air dried in record time, dog grooming completed with minimal snapping on Max’s part, and then tackling the teak veneer I shredded on arrival. Yes, it has been four months and I am just now addressing it, but the time had to be right. During the passage to Luperon, I became quite obsessed with things coming loose and bumping and rolling around the boat underway. One especially sore spot was my cabinet of canned goods in the salon, which had let loose daily. When you are socked in and waiting to sleep or go on watch, that can of tomato paste down the stairs and to your side of the bed can really unnerve you. It finally wore me down to the point that I grabbed a roll of duct tape and made sure nothing would burst forth, nor would I be able to retrieve anything…no problem, solved so easily. I briefly wondered why I hadn’t used duct tape before. Well, I found out on arrival in Luperon when I casually ripped the tape off to cook something and all the teak veneer ripped right along with the tape. And has hung there for four months, reminding me of another lesson learned. I thought about writing a woman’s sailing book that just had the ‘wait, don’t do that’ list in it….like using a chisel and hammer to defrost the ice box one last time, but that’s another story…..
So me and my contact cement repaired the teak so it now looks like the dogs might have had a small issue with something in the cabinet, and since Max was in a snappy mood while I clipped his nails, he taking the hit on the teak veneer for now. The buzz from contact cement reminded me of my brother’s early teenage model building, and left me with a nice kind of a fuzzy headache plus I had erased one of my well-intentioned solutions.
Then it was peeling and putting up a dozen mangos, a gift from the night watchman Andre, who thinks I am his in-town esposa when I am at my friend Marty’s house. Back before I learned to say NO, and when I wanted to do something for a dear friend, I house-sat for a week, and became fast friends with Andre the night watchman across the road. I always appreciated his wandering flashlight up the hill in the middle of the night. I took him cookies courtesy of Marty in her absence, and then leftovers from dinner each night after Rock drove off back to the boat. So Andre and I would hug,and have very disjointed conversation in espanol only, once with me leaving and the only thing I could think to say was,"Hasta La Vista" and Andre grinned and said," Yeah Baby…." So, he sent a bag of mangoes to Marty which we split. They’re in the freezer for inspired chutney or my slutty mango daiquiries….And yes, theres more: the day is not over. Happy hour up the stairmaster at the Yacht Club and for 55 pesos (about $1.60 ) we had rum and soda/tonica with the usual crowd and bullshit banter. Then came the culinary treats, my now-perfected conch fritters on the stern with vino and music, and gourmet grilled pork, tomato salad and steamed potatoes, all products of the local economy….I don't know how a day could be much better, and now at the end of another one, I wonder what tomorrow will bring.
Monday, July 13, 2009
Monday, June 29, 2009
Insomnia is not so bad afterall
I tried to post this at 3 am the other morning but had no internet signal. Not sleeping through the night is something I have come to understand as a lone part of my life, and although it used to happen back when I lived in the real world, always at times when there was an early commitment the next day, now it just comes and goes whenever it wants, and I let it in like an old rival who no longer inconveniences me. I won't say I like it, because there is nothing better than sleeping on a boat. Nothing compares to the barely perceptible motion rocking you and the soft lapping water noises that lull you into a suspended place.
But I have been seeing the one and two and three ams of the morning and its a very beautiful and peaceful time to be awake, especially without that anticipated morning stress. Rock and Max deep breathe in our bed below, pendulous and unaware. Wandering naked around the boat with Alma padding behind me or sitting beside me on the bow, when everything is still, except for a light night wind or land breeze.... My dock neighbor, a sailboat away is usually up, her light varies from the forepeak reading, to the galley making coffee(or having a Sambuca.) We talk the next day and always agree to let each other know we are there, up when all is asleep, but neither of us disturb the night to ruin it with words.
The stars are amazing and I have watched the Big Dipper slide around our stern to the north and west and settle over the yacht club in the last few months. I glimpse a few shooting stars no matter which direction I look, and pick out the constellations I know, amazed at the expanse overhead. Never did finish that book on celestial navigation... Count the mast lights, always just a handful compared to the boats anchored out. There is a faint city glow in Puerto Plata's direction, about 14 miles east on the coast but nothing to give the sense of much civilization, lots and lots of lonely black sky.
I watch the late night stragglers, the hunters, the lost. The owls of the DR are plentiful, small beige ground-dwelling birds that call out as they pass into the mangroves for dinner, bats flit by silently blocking the starry ink, a big jittery flying thing zips by....The sounds of the night and early morning are many once the ear drops its expectations. A number of rookeries dot the mangroves in the harbor, and the occasional eruption of egrets chattering is music to the night. Punctuated by the splash of fins chasing a meal , the thump of the dinghy catching a tiny wake into Magpie, the sound of the ocean roaring and the blowholes in the cliffs along the shore beyond the harbors entrance, a deep cow moo or the high-pitched donkey-having-sex bray, the rooster who can't sleep and the dog that barks after the shadow of an owl on it's hunt all play together in a soft symphony of the sleepless.
Around 4:30 theres a dinghy motor and before long TipTop , an 80 or so foot tourism catamaran starts to purr and slides out in between the boats with a flashlight to guide it to the ocean. No thumps , only the low engine rumble and bouncing lights, off to pick up touristas from resorts for a day of idyllic deserted beaches, swimming, snorkeling, and beer. The lone captain is the only one up and off to work. I stretch, consider coffee and my book, but pad back to bed for a deep rest before the rest of the harbor awakens. What a magical place to be.
But I have been seeing the one and two and three ams of the morning and its a very beautiful and peaceful time to be awake, especially without that anticipated morning stress. Rock and Max deep breathe in our bed below, pendulous and unaware. Wandering naked around the boat with Alma padding behind me or sitting beside me on the bow, when everything is still, except for a light night wind or land breeze.... My dock neighbor, a sailboat away is usually up, her light varies from the forepeak reading, to the galley making coffee(or having a Sambuca.) We talk the next day and always agree to let each other know we are there, up when all is asleep, but neither of us disturb the night to ruin it with words.
The stars are amazing and I have watched the Big Dipper slide around our stern to the north and west and settle over the yacht club in the last few months. I glimpse a few shooting stars no matter which direction I look, and pick out the constellations I know, amazed at the expanse overhead. Never did finish that book on celestial navigation... Count the mast lights, always just a handful compared to the boats anchored out. There is a faint city glow in Puerto Plata's direction, about 14 miles east on the coast but nothing to give the sense of much civilization, lots and lots of lonely black sky.
I watch the late night stragglers, the hunters, the lost. The owls of the DR are plentiful, small beige ground-dwelling birds that call out as they pass into the mangroves for dinner, bats flit by silently blocking the starry ink, a big jittery flying thing zips by....The sounds of the night and early morning are many once the ear drops its expectations. A number of rookeries dot the mangroves in the harbor, and the occasional eruption of egrets chattering is music to the night. Punctuated by the splash of fins chasing a meal , the thump of the dinghy catching a tiny wake into Magpie, the sound of the ocean roaring and the blowholes in the cliffs along the shore beyond the harbors entrance, a deep cow moo or the high-pitched donkey-having-sex bray, the rooster who can't sleep and the dog that barks after the shadow of an owl on it's hunt all play together in a soft symphony of the sleepless.
Around 4:30 theres a dinghy motor and before long TipTop , an 80 or so foot tourism catamaran starts to purr and slides out in between the boats with a flashlight to guide it to the ocean. No thumps , only the low engine rumble and bouncing lights, off to pick up touristas from resorts for a day of idyllic deserted beaches, swimming, snorkeling, and beer. The lone captain is the only one up and off to work. I stretch, consider coffee and my book, but pad back to bed for a deep rest before the rest of the harbor awakens. What a magical place to be.
Tuesday, June 23, 2009
TheTop Ten Reasons to...
...Temporarily Abandon A Blog.
10. Guilt. Once you get 'behind', and you get friendly reminders that no longer sound like praise for your writing but failure to keep appointments....and the pea under the mattress begins to grow and soon lying down is another painful reminder no entry was made again today. All I needed was more guilt, my manufacturer did take a bit of a holiday, but production is back on track. The gland is full.
9. Sweat. Its hot here. and humid. Sometimes breathing is all it takes to drench me in a bath of sweat. If any exertion is involved you can bet I will slide off my barstool. I sweat , I dry off, I sweat again. I am very uncomfortable, especially around Dominicans who do not sweat, always look cool and fresh. Where is that damned trade wind?
8. Hormones. I never thought of myself as a homicidal lunatic in capris, but my fists are clenched,my breathing is shallow, I am sweating (again), and thinking very bad thoughts about how deep the water is here, and how quickly someone could sink to the bottom. Probably don't need that rope and cement block.
7. S.B.S. Social Butterfly Syndrome. Or the inability to say "NO." So far , taking people for provisioning , to the airport (and picking them up) , a stint of house-dog-garden-sitting (without internet services), cooking & serving at a local bar/restaurant, attending too many Happy Hours (never really a problem for me, really), lunches, dinners(also not a problem in the food department), an 'intervention', pool parties, birthday parties, freedom parties(bye bye Bob), going away parties, coming back parties, concerts, ballgames (yes, I now attend softball games after avoiding all sports, all of my life) and whatever else I can do to assuage #10... I am there!
6. Scratching. Or maybe this should read itching. I am somehow allergic or very sensitive to the No-Seeums (which you can actually see, like a speck of black pepper) that bite me everywhere they can at dawn and dusk. So first I itch, then I scratch, then I have these bites that remind me I need to scratch again. Have gone through bug spray(does not work, even industrial strength), itch ointments( I should gain 20 pounds for all the topical steroids I have lathered on me) , and Neosporin for the remains of the battle. Hard to type while scratching certain places. Rock says I look like a junkie, always a man of succinct description.
5. Insomnia. I have found that I am unable to blog during the hours of 1 or 2 am and 5 am, despite the burden of #10, it is not a good time to write for me. I am usually keeping No-Seeums off me, and trying not to scratch.
4. Goats,Donkeys,Cows, Horses, Dogs, Chickens, Birds, No-Seeums. The abundance of wildlife here, wandering around freely or being utilized for transportation, food, etc... is amazing and it takes alot of time to take it all in (and not scratch.)
3. Bougainvilleas,Flamboyant Trees, Mango Trees, Papaya Trees, Banana and Coconut Palms, Royal Palms, Ficus Benjamin, Bromeliads and all the local flora that grows indiscriminately like weeds that make the landscape change constantly. Its an engaging process to go from one place to another and not be taken by a plant.
2. Pineapples. OK so I got carried away soon after arriving and bought too many papayas, but on the last trip to Santiago I bought over ten pineapples for 150 pesos, and they were rolling around on the floor of the car, smelling so sweet. I managed to give 6 or 7 away. But fresh fruit takes up your time here, and you have to pace yourself in the preparation and gorging of them. Mangoes are still in season, and I wait anxiously for avocado season when they will dump armloads into your car at stoplights. I can't wait.
AND THE NUMBER ONE EXCUSE, I MEAN REASON FOR NOT BLOGGING:
1. Internet Availability. My only real frustration, my only means of communication. Its better today but we had another visit from Alexander: the new provider for the harbor is a sweet gentle young man who has been given his internet knowledge by God, and although he is on Dominican Time, he will come to the boat and fix things, repeatedly. We have finally achieved some consistency, and I am hoping that since we now have a cable from one computer to another(wireless was the problem!?!) things will improve.
Fingers crossed, the blog has had its holiday and returns with no apologies.
10. Guilt. Once you get 'behind', and you get friendly reminders that no longer sound like praise for your writing but failure to keep appointments....and the pea under the mattress begins to grow and soon lying down is another painful reminder no entry was made again today. All I needed was more guilt, my manufacturer did take a bit of a holiday, but production is back on track. The gland is full.
9. Sweat. Its hot here. and humid. Sometimes breathing is all it takes to drench me in a bath of sweat. If any exertion is involved you can bet I will slide off my barstool. I sweat , I dry off, I sweat again. I am very uncomfortable, especially around Dominicans who do not sweat, always look cool and fresh. Where is that damned trade wind?
8. Hormones. I never thought of myself as a homicidal lunatic in capris, but my fists are clenched,my breathing is shallow, I am sweating (again), and thinking very bad thoughts about how deep the water is here, and how quickly someone could sink to the bottom. Probably don't need that rope and cement block.
7. S.B.S. Social Butterfly Syndrome. Or the inability to say "NO." So far , taking people for provisioning , to the airport (and picking them up) , a stint of house-dog-garden-sitting (without internet services), cooking & serving at a local bar/restaurant, attending too many Happy Hours (never really a problem for me, really), lunches, dinners(also not a problem in the food department), an 'intervention', pool parties, birthday parties, freedom parties(bye bye Bob), going away parties, coming back parties, concerts, ballgames (yes, I now attend softball games after avoiding all sports, all of my life) and whatever else I can do to assuage #10... I am there!
6. Scratching. Or maybe this should read itching. I am somehow allergic or very sensitive to the No-Seeums (which you can actually see, like a speck of black pepper) that bite me everywhere they can at dawn and dusk. So first I itch, then I scratch, then I have these bites that remind me I need to scratch again. Have gone through bug spray(does not work, even industrial strength), itch ointments( I should gain 20 pounds for all the topical steroids I have lathered on me) , and Neosporin for the remains of the battle. Hard to type while scratching certain places. Rock says I look like a junkie, always a man of succinct description.
5. Insomnia. I have found that I am unable to blog during the hours of 1 or 2 am and 5 am, despite the burden of #10, it is not a good time to write for me. I am usually keeping No-Seeums off me, and trying not to scratch.
4. Goats,Donkeys,Cows, Horses, Dogs, Chickens, Birds, No-Seeums. The abundance of wildlife here, wandering around freely or being utilized for transportation, food, etc... is amazing and it takes alot of time to take it all in (and not scratch.)
3. Bougainvilleas,Flamboyant Trees, Mango Trees, Papaya Trees, Banana and Coconut Palms, Royal Palms, Ficus Benjamin, Bromeliads and all the local flora that grows indiscriminately like weeds that make the landscape change constantly. Its an engaging process to go from one place to another and not be taken by a plant.
2. Pineapples. OK so I got carried away soon after arriving and bought too many papayas, but on the last trip to Santiago I bought over ten pineapples for 150 pesos, and they were rolling around on the floor of the car, smelling so sweet. I managed to give 6 or 7 away. But fresh fruit takes up your time here, and you have to pace yourself in the preparation and gorging of them. Mangoes are still in season, and I wait anxiously for avocado season when they will dump armloads into your car at stoplights. I can't wait.
AND THE NUMBER ONE EXCUSE, I MEAN REASON FOR NOT BLOGGING:
1. Internet Availability. My only real frustration, my only means of communication. Its better today but we had another visit from Alexander: the new provider for the harbor is a sweet gentle young man who has been given his internet knowledge by God, and although he is on Dominican Time, he will come to the boat and fix things, repeatedly. We have finally achieved some consistency, and I am hoping that since we now have a cable from one computer to another(wireless was the problem!?!) things will improve.
Fingers crossed, the blog has had its holiday and returns with no apologies.
Monday, May 4, 2009
Day 52 Luperon DR
Wow thats amazing to say, it feels like its been a slow moving line of time, like a lava flow or a molasses spill. The more I know and see of Luperon and the Dominicans, the less my opinion changes from that first warm, safe, contented, unspoiled beauty. As living on a boat is one(large) kind of compromise, so is Luperon. I will gladly trade the lack of electricity, lack of basic infrastructure, lack of clam sauce for pasta, and bits of garbage and trash for the air conditioners/appliances/plug-in noisemakers, for too much infrastructure, for the McDonalds & Walmarts, and for the overabundance of garbage any day.
Its so easy to become critical until you remember the price paid for each and every convenience.
I can look outside and get a saxophone concert from the sailboat across the way, breathe fresh air (with the exception of the occasional generator cough), feel the Trade Winds and the Land Breezes blow, watch a school of fish cruise by, check out the mangroves for birds and the sound of livestock munching down on some tasty greens, and feel the majestic security of the ring of mountains surrounding the harbor. I am not assaulted by high rise buildings, power lines, pollution, or the buzz of air and commercial sea traffic.
We dinghy into town on Tuesday mornings for Market, and buy fresh, large sized, local produce at amazing prices. Produce grown with no pesticides or chemicals. I have made myself a promise to not buy any more buckets of mangoes(that would be twelve mangoes), armfuls of pineapples(try eight), entire stalks of bananas(too many), or the seven papayas for three dollars.... must resist the temptation. Sometimes they come round to the marinas and docks in pick up trucks loaded full of produce and its amazing to buy pineapples, papayas, mangoes, bananas, limes(limon), squash, eggplant, broccoli, cauliflower, cabbage, beans, celery, onions, peppers, tomatoes, lettuces, thyme, cilantro, cucumbers, carrots, potatoes....and while Dominicans live a simple life, with the exception of cell phones, there is no hunger(and no obesity.) I am in love with the local yogurt and homemade queso, pan de agua(water bread) and the coffee grown in the mountains here.
I went to the Hospital last week after not being able to get Rock's insulin at the three local pharmacies in town (getting medications or anything else by mail is another compromise that is gradually starting to work out.) It was an odd feeling to see laundry hanging out of the windows, to know there is a sterilizer there that no one knows how to set up... but the pharmacy is professional, no prescription is required, and running at a brisk (and inexpensive) pace.
I only mention inexpensive because not everything is "cheapy cheapy" here. Gringos say rub your elbow and say "cheapy cheapy" before asking "cuantos pesos?" of any Dominican. I still find this alittle Christopher Columbus Offensive. Just as I find the cost of living here to be low, it is not my primary enjoyment, or reason to be here after 51 days. It reminds me of the greedy Yankees (I am a New Yorker, so I have the right to talk) in South Carolina who just can't resist divulging how much they sold their property in New York for and how cheapy cheapy their gated community, golf course front mansion cost and that they found a New York deli that gets them their bagels and....well its the same everywhere! But it is just the added bonus here, not to be treated like a Tourista (or worse yet, Ugly American!)
Stay tuned for more Luperon adventures, culinary and otherwise. Max and Alma have asked for a Dog's View, as they have not yet given their perspective. That would be a head down, eyes up look coming soon.
Its so easy to become critical until you remember the price paid for each and every convenience.
I can look outside and get a saxophone concert from the sailboat across the way, breathe fresh air (with the exception of the occasional generator cough), feel the Trade Winds and the Land Breezes blow, watch a school of fish cruise by, check out the mangroves for birds and the sound of livestock munching down on some tasty greens, and feel the majestic security of the ring of mountains surrounding the harbor. I am not assaulted by high rise buildings, power lines, pollution, or the buzz of air and commercial sea traffic.
We dinghy into town on Tuesday mornings for Market, and buy fresh, large sized, local produce at amazing prices. Produce grown with no pesticides or chemicals. I have made myself a promise to not buy any more buckets of mangoes(that would be twelve mangoes), armfuls of pineapples(try eight), entire stalks of bananas(too many), or the seven papayas for three dollars.... must resist the temptation. Sometimes they come round to the marinas and docks in pick up trucks loaded full of produce and its amazing to buy pineapples, papayas, mangoes, bananas, limes(limon), squash, eggplant, broccoli, cauliflower, cabbage, beans, celery, onions, peppers, tomatoes, lettuces, thyme, cilantro, cucumbers, carrots, potatoes....and while Dominicans live a simple life, with the exception of cell phones, there is no hunger(and no obesity.) I am in love with the local yogurt and homemade queso, pan de agua(water bread) and the coffee grown in the mountains here.
I went to the Hospital last week after not being able to get Rock's insulin at the three local pharmacies in town (getting medications or anything else by mail is another compromise that is gradually starting to work out.) It was an odd feeling to see laundry hanging out of the windows, to know there is a sterilizer there that no one knows how to set up... but the pharmacy is professional, no prescription is required, and running at a brisk (and inexpensive) pace.
I only mention inexpensive because not everything is "cheapy cheapy" here. Gringos say rub your elbow and say "cheapy cheapy" before asking "cuantos pesos?" of any Dominican. I still find this alittle Christopher Columbus Offensive. Just as I find the cost of living here to be low, it is not my primary enjoyment, or reason to be here after 51 days. It reminds me of the greedy Yankees (I am a New Yorker, so I have the right to talk) in South Carolina who just can't resist divulging how much they sold their property in New York for and how cheapy cheapy their gated community, golf course front mansion cost and that they found a New York deli that gets them their bagels and....well its the same everywhere! But it is just the added bonus here, not to be treated like a Tourista (or worse yet, Ugly American!)
Stay tuned for more Luperon adventures, culinary and otherwise. Max and Alma have asked for a Dog's View, as they have not yet given their perspective. That would be a head down, eyes up look coming soon.
Thursday, April 23, 2009
The Good,The Bad, The Gringos
I've been sitting on this, literally, as so many recent events have colored what I want to say about my misconceptions of cruising.
I was worried back in Georgetown that I didn't know cruising ettiquette, like there is any...and I remember asking a friend and singlehander about what the social circle is like, and how do you get rid of unwanted boaters who overextend their welcome....like I have trouble with that on land, why should this be different? Well, somehow I thought this amazing lifestyle elevated people to like mindedness. We had a sailboat come through G'town for afew weeks in December last year, and I initially liked them(well maybe until he brought his guitar over and played German folk songs) but there came a point where they were at our boat too much, when they reciprocated with dinner they wanted to cook it on our boat, they began to peddle their pyramid scheme and finally I was crawling around so they couldn't see me from their boat.
So my singlehander said it was never a problem, you just dismiss them...tell them its time to go home. I am thinking what if everybody wants to raft together and I can't get away from them. All these like-minded people who live and work on their boats are going to be respectful and understanding neighbors.
Welcome to Luperon where after afew short weeks I was subjected to a variety of versions of peoples' lives and more of it was coming in on a daily basis...bad relationships, princesses on boats, drinks too much, doesn't drink enough, jealous , controlling, self appointed harbor authorities , lazy Domincans, water aerobics classes, nudists, french canadians, bridge games,pot lucks, daily happy hours, too many details that almost spoiled my relationships with new people.
They actually call the hillside where several cruisers have built homes Gringo Hill, in the same evil vent I used to make fun of physicians on Pill Hill... This was going to be titled As the Harbor Turns, or As the Anchor Drags, but I became so disappointed that Ugly Americans are everywhere, even in isolated little corners of the world, each one toting their own baggage, contents spilling over the side.
On the positive side although I smiled and thanked them very much I will not be rushing to town to buy a 'noodle' so I can attend the water aerobics classes I have avoided for the last 25 years. No one has asked to raft up together and get plastered on rum and beer, but I do understand this is not uncommon, in dinghys, and you have to bring an hors d'oeuvre to share...maybe later on that. We have been to dinner on Gringo Hill , and to another gringos home and had wonderful times, and wondered where all the rumors sprouted from. I thought I had left all the petty childish behavior in the States.
We have now entered into our own little childish ring or fire here on the dock. How can this be possible with only 4 boats clumped together? Usually I offer up Capt. Rock as a fine example of how easy it is to piss people off, or that maybe one of my catty little remarks or names has slipped out, but we have been on our (relatively speaking)best behavior . Up until now. The fur is bound to fly here before long. Seems the contestant on boat #4 didn't like the work being done on Magpie( sanding and refinishing the brightwork, and sanding off the deck paint by two local workers) and last week he complained to the yacht club management(using the term very loosely) and an environmental specialist was sent down to the boat. This is in a country where nothing is regulated, there are no sewers, health regulations, nothing, nada. Turns out our worker knew the environmental guy and they chatted and he left with a grin and my favorite Dominican response,"no problemo."
Rock would not let me call Boater#4 the Dock Snitch, so he remained Motorcycle Al (sung to the tune of Basket Ball Jones) and we went about our work.
There was a small incident at happy hour where Motorcycle Al and Capt Rock disagreed about line of sight at sea, and it upset Motorcycle Al's wife so much she had to sit at another table, but we didn't think much of if,other than an amusing thing to do if we were all back in high school having a malt at the hop. So maybe there was tension when I walked the dogs by Boater#4 two or three times a day, but I wasn't crawling yet.
I should add we are in week three of grinding and sanding, and it is a day from completion, we wash down boats # 2 and #3 and apologize profusely when we are all hunkered inside waiting for 5 o'clock when we can take a deep breath without scratching fiberglass . Boat #4 is the farthest away, and quite protected from the dust and wood shavings.
Unfortunately the day after the decks were finished, our wonderful wood guy , who had hand sanded everything from day one, picked up a sander to do a flat surface. It was just wood and not much but it put Boater#4 and his esposa into a frenzy and he went to the owner of the marina with his story , had a tarp put up on our boat, and complained to anyone who would listen, with the exception of us. And Ms Esposa was unable to leave the boat due to crying about our ruining her boat. It was a most uncomfortable scene, boaters #2 and #3 were now involved, and stuck up for us. Theres alot more tension on the dock now, and while we still attend the occasional happy hour and pot luck it is not comfortable and the gringos have much to wag their tails about. I do not crawl by with the dogs, and am looking forward to telling my singlehander that I have solved the problem of the social circle . The bright spot is I am now allowed to call Motorcycle Al the Dock Snitch, but Rock misses the song....maybe I will have to get a noodle and play water aerobics after all.
I was worried back in Georgetown that I didn't know cruising ettiquette, like there is any...and I remember asking a friend and singlehander about what the social circle is like, and how do you get rid of unwanted boaters who overextend their welcome....like I have trouble with that on land, why should this be different? Well, somehow I thought this amazing lifestyle elevated people to like mindedness. We had a sailboat come through G'town for afew weeks in December last year, and I initially liked them(well maybe until he brought his guitar over and played German folk songs) but there came a point where they were at our boat too much, when they reciprocated with dinner they wanted to cook it on our boat, they began to peddle their pyramid scheme and finally I was crawling around so they couldn't see me from their boat.
So my singlehander said it was never a problem, you just dismiss them...tell them its time to go home. I am thinking what if everybody wants to raft together and I can't get away from them. All these like-minded people who live and work on their boats are going to be respectful and understanding neighbors.
Welcome to Luperon where after afew short weeks I was subjected to a variety of versions of peoples' lives and more of it was coming in on a daily basis...bad relationships, princesses on boats, drinks too much, doesn't drink enough, jealous , controlling, self appointed harbor authorities , lazy Domincans, water aerobics classes, nudists, french canadians, bridge games,pot lucks, daily happy hours, too many details that almost spoiled my relationships with new people.
They actually call the hillside where several cruisers have built homes Gringo Hill, in the same evil vent I used to make fun of physicians on Pill Hill... This was going to be titled As the Harbor Turns, or As the Anchor Drags, but I became so disappointed that Ugly Americans are everywhere, even in isolated little corners of the world, each one toting their own baggage, contents spilling over the side.
On the positive side although I smiled and thanked them very much I will not be rushing to town to buy a 'noodle' so I can attend the water aerobics classes I have avoided for the last 25 years. No one has asked to raft up together and get plastered on rum and beer, but I do understand this is not uncommon, in dinghys, and you have to bring an hors d'oeuvre to share...maybe later on that. We have been to dinner on Gringo Hill , and to another gringos home and had wonderful times, and wondered where all the rumors sprouted from. I thought I had left all the petty childish behavior in the States.
We have now entered into our own little childish ring or fire here on the dock. How can this be possible with only 4 boats clumped together? Usually I offer up Capt. Rock as a fine example of how easy it is to piss people off, or that maybe one of my catty little remarks or names has slipped out, but we have been on our (relatively speaking)best behavior . Up until now. The fur is bound to fly here before long. Seems the contestant on boat #4 didn't like the work being done on Magpie( sanding and refinishing the brightwork, and sanding off the deck paint by two local workers) and last week he complained to the yacht club management(using the term very loosely) and an environmental specialist was sent down to the boat. This is in a country where nothing is regulated, there are no sewers, health regulations, nothing, nada. Turns out our worker knew the environmental guy and they chatted and he left with a grin and my favorite Dominican response,"no problemo."
Rock would not let me call Boater#4 the Dock Snitch, so he remained Motorcycle Al (sung to the tune of Basket Ball Jones) and we went about our work.
There was a small incident at happy hour where Motorcycle Al and Capt Rock disagreed about line of sight at sea, and it upset Motorcycle Al's wife so much she had to sit at another table, but we didn't think much of if,other than an amusing thing to do if we were all back in high school having a malt at the hop. So maybe there was tension when I walked the dogs by Boater#4 two or three times a day, but I wasn't crawling yet.
I should add we are in week three of grinding and sanding, and it is a day from completion, we wash down boats # 2 and #3 and apologize profusely when we are all hunkered inside waiting for 5 o'clock when we can take a deep breath without scratching fiberglass . Boat #4 is the farthest away, and quite protected from the dust and wood shavings.
Unfortunately the day after the decks were finished, our wonderful wood guy , who had hand sanded everything from day one, picked up a sander to do a flat surface. It was just wood and not much but it put Boater#4 and his esposa into a frenzy and he went to the owner of the marina with his story , had a tarp put up on our boat, and complained to anyone who would listen, with the exception of us. And Ms Esposa was unable to leave the boat due to crying about our ruining her boat. It was a most uncomfortable scene, boaters #2 and #3 were now involved, and stuck up for us. Theres alot more tension on the dock now, and while we still attend the occasional happy hour and pot luck it is not comfortable and the gringos have much to wag their tails about. I do not crawl by with the dogs, and am looking forward to telling my singlehander that I have solved the problem of the social circle . The bright spot is I am now allowed to call Motorcycle Al the Dock Snitch, but Rock misses the song....maybe I will have to get a noodle and play water aerobics after all.
Sunday, April 12, 2009
The Real Luperon Yacht Club
To go back a bit, our destination Luperon, came from several experienced cruiser's recommendations, and a cruising guide, Passages South by Bruce Van Sant, and was going to be a stopover on the way to points south, with our first serious anchoring out in a safe harbor... And despite my preparations via the internet of all the customs, agriculture, and pet regulations, I really didn't have much info on Luperon . Well, I didn't know we would have battery and hydraulics issues that would keep us from anchoring out, or that I would have this quick and deep love for Luperon just as it is.
So, when we limped into the harbor, we were guided to one of the two "marinas" in the harbor, Marina Luperon Yacht Club. We were thrilled there was a spot with enough water for our 7.5 foot draft, and didn't have a clue what to expect other than the ad in the book. There was power and water hook up, a dock,( that squeaks and moves with each shaky step as if it could tilt right into the water) and up the 58 perpendicular stone steps, a huge round two story building with a thatched roof, a restaurant and bar with a great view of the harbor, 2 swimming pools, and the list of amenities from the ad ... And it was OK when we discovered they couldn't cook a hamburgesa, and the steps were good for all of us...humph. The fuel dock, wi-fi, satellite TV, ice, hotel, laundry ...did not properly exist, but it was no big deal, we have our own laundry , ice, didn't want hotel or TV and found internet service and fuel elsewhere....The real misconception came from a friend who after going through the process of being allowed to join a (real) Yacht Club in the San Juan Islands, asked me if www.luperonmarina.com was as nice as it looked.... so, curious to see, I found the flashing "under construction" sign to be a slight understatement. Wow, with hotels, a boat lift and boat yard, multiple floating docks, it looked so like a real marina! So, unlike the next boat to dock here shortly after us, we had no preconceptions. The necessities were fine, mixed liberally with friendly, hardworking, non-english speaking help, a free stairmaster workout, daily happy hours with cold beer and drinks, and the wandering horses , cows, and dogs made this a special place. This is pretty amazing, as it is my heritage to criticize/find fault or be negative about things in general. I am working on this, I promise. The boat that arrived afew days after us, taking the only other spot on the one rickety dock, had obviously believed what they saw on the internet. Theirs is one of those boats, like a perfectly coiffed toy poodle complete with red toenails and a bow in its topknot, or a condo for sale in Town and Country, the 61 foot Hatteras came in with its owners wearing headsets and matching fanny packs...all the gadgets, mats, and accoutrement were shiny new, and expertly embossed with the boats name. Well, maybe I am a boat snob(!), and maybe they really do like it here, but tomorrow they are heading on to Ocean World Marina & Casino and Adventure Park, about 35 miles east of here near Puerto Plata, where you can swim with the dolphins and dock your yacht in proper style. My biggest drawback is naming people(no, not labeling...) and on passing by the shiny boat the first time with the dogs in tow for the morning stairmaster, I saw the economy-sized bottle of Febreeze through the (tinted glass) port....thus they became The Febreezers, or as Rock volunteered, The Febreeziacs. Sometimes my names do make it hard to warm up to people, but then rarely give names to those I am close to.
So welcome to the Real Yacht Club, its almost 5:00 and happy hour whispers down the stairmaster.
So, when we limped into the harbor, we were guided to one of the two "marinas" in the harbor, Marina Luperon Yacht Club. We were thrilled there was a spot with enough water for our 7.5 foot draft, and didn't have a clue what to expect other than the ad in the book. There was power and water hook up, a dock,( that squeaks and moves with each shaky step as if it could tilt right into the water) and up the 58 perpendicular stone steps, a huge round two story building with a thatched roof, a restaurant and bar with a great view of the harbor, 2 swimming pools, and the list of amenities from the ad ... And it was OK when we discovered they couldn't cook a hamburgesa, and the steps were good for all of us...humph. The fuel dock, wi-fi, satellite TV, ice, hotel, laundry ...did not properly exist, but it was no big deal, we have our own laundry , ice, didn't want hotel or TV and found internet service and fuel elsewhere....The real misconception came from a friend who after going through the process of being allowed to join a (real) Yacht Club in the San Juan Islands, asked me if www.luperonmarina.com was as nice as it looked.... so, curious to see, I found the flashing "under construction" sign to be a slight understatement. Wow, with hotels, a boat lift and boat yard, multiple floating docks, it looked so like a real marina! So, unlike the next boat to dock here shortly after us, we had no preconceptions. The necessities were fine, mixed liberally with friendly, hardworking, non-english speaking help, a free stairmaster workout, daily happy hours with cold beer and drinks, and the wandering horses , cows, and dogs made this a special place. This is pretty amazing, as it is my heritage to criticize/find fault or be negative about things in general. I am working on this, I promise. The boat that arrived afew days after us, taking the only other spot on the one rickety dock, had obviously believed what they saw on the internet. Theirs is one of those boats, like a perfectly coiffed toy poodle complete with red toenails and a bow in its topknot, or a condo for sale in Town and Country, the 61 foot Hatteras came in with its owners wearing headsets and matching fanny packs...all the gadgets, mats, and accoutrement were shiny new, and expertly embossed with the boats name. Well, maybe I am a boat snob(!), and maybe they really do like it here, but tomorrow they are heading on to Ocean World Marina & Casino and Adventure Park, about 35 miles east of here near Puerto Plata, where you can swim with the dolphins and dock your yacht in proper style. My biggest drawback is naming people(no, not labeling...) and on passing by the shiny boat the first time with the dogs in tow for the morning stairmaster, I saw the economy-sized bottle of Febreeze through the (tinted glass) port....thus they became The Febreezers, or as Rock volunteered, The Febreeziacs. Sometimes my names do make it hard to warm up to people, but then rarely give names to those I am close to.
So welcome to the Real Yacht Club, its almost 5:00 and happy hour whispers down the stairmaster.
Tuesday, April 7, 2009
Time for a Road Trip!
3/26/09 After a couple of days of intermittent showers we have a car and driver for a trip to Santiago with Tom, owner and builder of an amazing steel boat Essential Part. Oh and hes a good ole Yankee from NY, cruising the Caribbean.
Tom needs wood for his boat, and is able to negotiate a van and driver , so we meet at the marina and meet Eric and a van with lots of room to spread out. Our agenda is simple: a lumber yard, grocery store and Ohchoas, a large hardware store. The man who arranged this recommends lunch at Pez Dorado. Its luxury to have my own seat and I am glued to the view speeding past as we travel out of Luperon south to Santiago, the second largest city with a population of about 1.3 million.
But first we stop at a roadside market selling fresh cows cheese, as Eric did not get breakfast. We all sample it, its so fabulous I buy a ball of it, salty, and very light in texture like fresh mozzarella but definitely a cow product. I can go home now.
Bumpy roads we are used to, we pass and are passed by many motorbikes and cars. The landscape is full of banana groves, lush pastures with grazing cows, goats and horses, huge royal palms, clusters of huts and shacks all surrounded by mountains. We pass through Imbert, a small town and crossroads for motorconchos,buses,taxis, colorful with all the stands and roadside attractions.
As we pass up the mountain through a tunnel we enter the Cibao Valley which stretches from the northwest coast to the east coast ,over 125 miles of farmland. I had already had a bit too much emotion over the avocado groves, and hearing about the coffee and cocoa grown in the mountains, but this was several kleenexes for me to get past sugar cane, rice, tobacco, all so big and vibrant. Little to no pesticides are necessary here, and it sounds like chemical warfare to increase production has not reached this land.
Our first stop is Madeco Lumber, and here we are all given dark rich locally grown coffee, hot and sweet, on a silver tray , china espresso cups, while the workmen are busy cutting planing, loading lumber. Wow, this is some customer service. Its slow, but we get to the stacks of wood with the manager and after awhile , with Eric's translation wood is picked out. Now they begin the long process of calculating the sizes out of each board, and the cost. We wander around, look at wood, shop tools, all kinds of stuff. Another hour passes, they're still calculating. We are served fresh-squeezed orange juice in wine glasses and that silver tray is back. It is so sweet, its like Tang. I try not to think that some vodka would be nice, but I am still enjoying the coffee buzz. Goodbye Lowes and Home Depot, I will never go back!
Its all settled and the price is good and we are due back at 4 to pick it up. Off we go to PriceSmart, its a membership shopping experience and I feel like I am back at Costco! We pick up afew things on the list, giggle at the US and Dominican Brands, decline the hotdog for lunch(Rock's favorite lunch in Myrtle Beach!) and are off to Pez Dorado, after a stop for me to change money. Eric takes me to a farmacia, despite my request for a bank, and I am pleased with the exchange rate, and meet yet another Dominican who lived in Newark...if they've been to the US its always NY or NJ....Eric, too, lived in NYC and NJ... so anyway, we check some RX prices and are disappointed to find most of Rock's are more expensive than we want to pay, although far less expensive than US. Pez Dorado turns out to be a fancy older restaurant with lots of bad art from the 1950s, maroon-coated waiters who speak no english and a very pricey menu. Eric and Tom are smart and order chop suey and pork chow mein, while Rock and I are adventurous and have the unidentifiable seafood in a scallop shell(me) and fish cakes(Rock) I also try some inedible burnt lobster bisque. I enjoy the chinese choices muchly. We are all relieved to leave, I wanted regional authentic grub, but not more chicken and beans and salad.
We stop at and innercity grocery, with warnings to keep our money in a front pocket and off we go into a dirty crowded store, I find afew things, Eric gets us to try the corn pudding, we all pig out and eye the rice pudding, flan, they do love their sweets! Rock buys Lambi(conch) that is fresh and slimy. I dream about conch fritters at the Poop Deck in Nassau....
In a rush for time and Eric drops us off at Ochoas, the mega hardware store, and he and Tom go back to the lumber yard . Its a barn of a place but it is hard to find anything, and although the staff is helpful they no hablo engles and we are sent all over the place on snipe hunts. We manage to check out as Tom and Eric arrive, the wood is not with them, for pick up another day, but they did give Tom a refund after more calculating! I think they got more coffee too....
Santiago is a handsome city, full of tall buildings, universities, malls and stores, and small rugged neighborhoods, yet these people are the same as those living in huts in the countryside and they are of modest means and friendly. The traffic is fast and furious with cars, motorbikes, buses and taxis all ignoring lanes, using their horns for everything from hi how are you to move out of my way to make room, here I come. Its loud and jovial, and despite what looked like nanoinches between vehicles there were no accidents.
On the way out of town we buy papayas, pineapples by the armful from men walking into the street with all kinds of produce, and of course cell phone paraphernalia. Can't escape the ubiquitous cell phone and cell cards,cases.... I pile my seven papayas for 3$ at my feet , Rock is not happy knowing we will be eating alot of papaya before the week is over. I want bananas but not the whole tree, as they sell them, and Eric points out they are plantains, so in order to keep Rock's blood sugar from coma level I stop buying .
We have a quiet ride home, Eric is anxious to get home to his family. I am amazed at how easily he speeds us past the motorbikes, people walking along the road, people gathering at each others huts spilling into the road, slowing down for the invisible bumps and sleeping policemen in the dark.
Tom needs wood for his boat, and is able to negotiate a van and driver , so we meet at the marina and meet Eric and a van with lots of room to spread out. Our agenda is simple: a lumber yard, grocery store and Ohchoas, a large hardware store. The man who arranged this recommends lunch at Pez Dorado. Its luxury to have my own seat and I am glued to the view speeding past as we travel out of Luperon south to Santiago, the second largest city with a population of about 1.3 million.
But first we stop at a roadside market selling fresh cows cheese, as Eric did not get breakfast. We all sample it, its so fabulous I buy a ball of it, salty, and very light in texture like fresh mozzarella but definitely a cow product. I can go home now.
Bumpy roads we are used to, we pass and are passed by many motorbikes and cars. The landscape is full of banana groves, lush pastures with grazing cows, goats and horses, huge royal palms, clusters of huts and shacks all surrounded by mountains. We pass through Imbert, a small town and crossroads for motorconchos,buses,taxis, colorful with all the stands and roadside attractions.
As we pass up the mountain through a tunnel we enter the Cibao Valley which stretches from the northwest coast to the east coast ,over 125 miles of farmland. I had already had a bit too much emotion over the avocado groves, and hearing about the coffee and cocoa grown in the mountains, but this was several kleenexes for me to get past sugar cane, rice, tobacco, all so big and vibrant. Little to no pesticides are necessary here, and it sounds like chemical warfare to increase production has not reached this land.
Our first stop is Madeco Lumber, and here we are all given dark rich locally grown coffee, hot and sweet, on a silver tray , china espresso cups, while the workmen are busy cutting planing, loading lumber. Wow, this is some customer service. Its slow, but we get to the stacks of wood with the manager and after awhile , with Eric's translation wood is picked out. Now they begin the long process of calculating the sizes out of each board, and the cost. We wander around, look at wood, shop tools, all kinds of stuff. Another hour passes, they're still calculating. We are served fresh-squeezed orange juice in wine glasses and that silver tray is back. It is so sweet, its like Tang. I try not to think that some vodka would be nice, but I am still enjoying the coffee buzz. Goodbye Lowes and Home Depot, I will never go back!
Its all settled and the price is good and we are due back at 4 to pick it up. Off we go to PriceSmart, its a membership shopping experience and I feel like I am back at Costco! We pick up afew things on the list, giggle at the US and Dominican Brands, decline the hotdog for lunch(Rock's favorite lunch in Myrtle Beach!) and are off to Pez Dorado, after a stop for me to change money. Eric takes me to a farmacia, despite my request for a bank, and I am pleased with the exchange rate, and meet yet another Dominican who lived in Newark...if they've been to the US its always NY or NJ....Eric, too, lived in NYC and NJ... so anyway, we check some RX prices and are disappointed to find most of Rock's are more expensive than we want to pay, although far less expensive than US. Pez Dorado turns out to be a fancy older restaurant with lots of bad art from the 1950s, maroon-coated waiters who speak no english and a very pricey menu. Eric and Tom are smart and order chop suey and pork chow mein, while Rock and I are adventurous and have the unidentifiable seafood in a scallop shell(me) and fish cakes(Rock) I also try some inedible burnt lobster bisque. I enjoy the chinese choices muchly. We are all relieved to leave, I wanted regional authentic grub, but not more chicken and beans and salad.
We stop at and innercity grocery, with warnings to keep our money in a front pocket and off we go into a dirty crowded store, I find afew things, Eric gets us to try the corn pudding, we all pig out and eye the rice pudding, flan, they do love their sweets! Rock buys Lambi(conch) that is fresh and slimy. I dream about conch fritters at the Poop Deck in Nassau....
In a rush for time and Eric drops us off at Ochoas, the mega hardware store, and he and Tom go back to the lumber yard . Its a barn of a place but it is hard to find anything, and although the staff is helpful they no hablo engles and we are sent all over the place on snipe hunts. We manage to check out as Tom and Eric arrive, the wood is not with them, for pick up another day, but they did give Tom a refund after more calculating! I think they got more coffee too....
Santiago is a handsome city, full of tall buildings, universities, malls and stores, and small rugged neighborhoods, yet these people are the same as those living in huts in the countryside and they are of modest means and friendly. The traffic is fast and furious with cars, motorbikes, buses and taxis all ignoring lanes, using their horns for everything from hi how are you to move out of my way to make room, here I come. Its loud and jovial, and despite what looked like nanoinches between vehicles there were no accidents.
On the way out of town we buy papayas, pineapples by the armful from men walking into the street with all kinds of produce, and of course cell phone paraphernalia. Can't escape the ubiquitous cell phone and cell cards,cases.... I pile my seven papayas for 3$ at my feet , Rock is not happy knowing we will be eating alot of papaya before the week is over. I want bananas but not the whole tree, as they sell them, and Eric points out they are plantains, so in order to keep Rock's blood sugar from coma level I stop buying .
We have a quiet ride home, Eric is anxious to get home to his family. I am amazed at how easily he speeds us past the motorbikes, people walking along the road, people gathering at each others huts spilling into the road, slowing down for the invisible bumps and sleeping policemen in the dark.
Monday, April 6, 2009
Week of March 16th
Our first week in Luperon begins with engine assessment, alot of banging and cussing as the worn out idler is removed from its inconvenient location, attempts are made to transfer fuel to correct our pronounced list to port (unsuccessful, stay out of the engine room at all costs...) Many greasy pants and t-shirts pile up for Magpie's famous in-house laundry service (have degreaser, full sized washer and dryer, will travel.) But remember, No tickie No shirtie!!! Rock caves and we purchase fuel from Handy Andy and Papo to fill the starboard tank, and no more list! But not the Venezuela prices we planned for! We have great meals, courtesy the chest freezer, wine and liquor cabinet. I buy a flat of eggs and a case of Bohemia at Capt. Steves Place...the eggs are huge, some the size of a small baseball, and abit dirty, but who eats the shell anyway?
I walk to the next marina, Puerto Blanco, and get a weeks worth of internet, complete with warnings not to Skype 6a-6p, and the best time for server use is 2am-6am. Not me, I will be sleeping well then, thank you. We make our way to Shaggy's Bar for our free rum drink, offered to us on arrival by Lynne who came out to save us in her dinghy. She and her son have purchased the bar , which opened in the fall of last year, and we relax with beer and rum and local banter.
On Thursday, 3/19, we arrange for a car for a trip to El Castillo and La Isabela, not far from Luperon. Well, we go up the 50+ steps to the the Yacht Club at the given time, and do alittle waiting as we haven't quite figured out Dominican Time...and up pulls a battered ancient Camry with two young men.Unfortunately although we all feel like we've lost 10 pounds , it doesn't seem to be in the right place as we squeeze in the back seat. The silent driver and owner of the car speaks no english(which is what they all say!) and our "guide" speaks a very few bits but is pleasant. We take off up dirt path I have walked the dogs up, no idea its a "road". Tinted windows down we bump along finally seeing where we are and come to a paved road and off we go, passing an occasional motorbike. Its beautiful as we drive up in the hills with glimpses of the coast. There are afew unfinished dreams in concrete along the way, but mostly small clusters of brightly colored huts surrounded by banana palms, livestock and laundry hung out to dry. We stop for a herd of cows lumbering along the middle of the road, with young caballeros on burros with whips to motivate them on to the next place to graze. I have asked to stop at a bank to change money, and we stop at a bright orange roadside restaurant and our guide and I go talk with a man, who gets a woman with a calculator and they "calculate" for awhile, and then says he will have to go to Luperon with my money to change it. I decline, but in all reality, he probably would have done just that(by burro?) and been waiting for me with the change....there is an innate sense of trust going on here, but I am not ready to chance it. The all-fish menu painted on the wall looks interesting, not sure what they all are, but I see dorado (mahi-mahi) and pulpo(octopus, maybe next time!)
Back on the road, views of mountains and the coastline, beautiful greenery, small banana groves, and we swing into El Castillo to the church at the top of the hill overlooking Isabela. It was built in 1493, when La Isabela was founded by Christopher Columbus. Although the church has seen several remodels over the past 500+ years, the curved brick roof and some original brickwork remain, along with a delightful older gentleman who is the caretaker gave a grand tour, despite what little got to us through our guide, who I don't think had ever been there. The stained glass, from the early 1990s were beautiful, and the building gave off a great deal of presence and history. The views from the tower made you feel as if a tall ship was due into the harbor anytime.
The town of La Isabela, a short drive from the church on the bluffs overlooking the bay was amazing. Of course it comes with a story that in the 1950s under dictator Trujillo, a crew was ordered to "clean up" the site for the visiting Spanish archaeologists. The mostly intact ruins were then bulldozed! Most of the site has been restored to some extent, and a guide walked us through the ruins, again giving a very fast-paced explanation of each area, which only trickled down to us. There were workers using machetes cutting back the growth and piles of rocks, stones, ship ballast neatly mounded along the way. The largest structure/foundation was Chris's house right off the bluff with a perfect view of the entire harbor. And under a small thatched roof was what the guide insisted to be Chris's remains, noting he died of a cold. We left, after I purchased the perfunctory souvenir, a carved offering god. We drove to the beach, where I could spend an eternity wandering in the shallow aqua waters along the reef.
Back to town, past more cows going in the opposite direction down the middle of the road, for the bank/ATM and lunch of, guess what? chicken, beans and rice, and salad. Poor Dave was feeling the beginnings of the gift of the DR, so Rock made up for his failing appetite. Huge plates of food, local laborers crowding in to eat. What a great day! I am glad not to be packed in between the boys in the back seat and happy to be back at the boat.
No fine last supper to send Dave off with tonight, too sick even for a cold Bohemia.
Friday, we are up early to meet Dave's van to the airport. So sorry to see him leave, but no one is any fun once they have the gift of the DR! Time to go home! He was so wonderful during the passage, forced me to learn to tie a bosun's knot, and kept us well entertained at all times.
I am looking forward to us being alone on the boat, and still taking it all in, and getting some sort of routine I can grasp.
Saturday is spent giving Alma a haircut, the clippers fail , and its all scissors, and a long hairy day. I am covered with hair. Max knows his days are numbered, he keeps his distance.
Sunday we trudge up to the Yacht Club for "brunch" and have eggs, strange squash which we are told will grow on us(not sure about that, its bland and in chunks has a texture of babyfood), bacon, crepes, french toast, toast, good local coffee...Well its not the same kind of food, or buffet we are used to but tasty. A great improvement over the inedible hambergesas we tried to eat for lunch one day. We meet expats Marti and Bob, she makes breads,cookies, pies, jams and jellies to sell, and has lived here for several years, built a house overlooking the harbor. Bob is from Nebraska originally, met her in the states 2 yrs ago and here he is, lots of interesting talk. Our whole dock is up eating , and several other boaters arrive. I can see this will be a regular thing for us. We talk with Tom another boater we met in town at Shaggy's Bar earlier in the week. We have become fast friends. Its relaxed and easy and we float back down the stairs to the boat. Each day greets me with something new, each evening greets me with a beautiful sunset over the mountains, anchor lights on, and great breezes, stars aplenty, music spilling down from the YC.
I walk to the next marina, Puerto Blanco, and get a weeks worth of internet, complete with warnings not to Skype 6a-6p, and the best time for server use is 2am-6am. Not me, I will be sleeping well then, thank you. We make our way to Shaggy's Bar for our free rum drink, offered to us on arrival by Lynne who came out to save us in her dinghy. She and her son have purchased the bar , which opened in the fall of last year, and we relax with beer and rum and local banter.
On Thursday, 3/19, we arrange for a car for a trip to El Castillo and La Isabela, not far from Luperon. Well, we go up the 50+ steps to the the Yacht Club at the given time, and do alittle waiting as we haven't quite figured out Dominican Time...and up pulls a battered ancient Camry with two young men.Unfortunately although we all feel like we've lost 10 pounds , it doesn't seem to be in the right place as we squeeze in the back seat. The silent driver and owner of the car speaks no english(which is what they all say!) and our "guide" speaks a very few bits but is pleasant. We take off up dirt path I have walked the dogs up, no idea its a "road". Tinted windows down we bump along finally seeing where we are and come to a paved road and off we go, passing an occasional motorbike. Its beautiful as we drive up in the hills with glimpses of the coast. There are afew unfinished dreams in concrete along the way, but mostly small clusters of brightly colored huts surrounded by banana palms, livestock and laundry hung out to dry. We stop for a herd of cows lumbering along the middle of the road, with young caballeros on burros with whips to motivate them on to the next place to graze. I have asked to stop at a bank to change money, and we stop at a bright orange roadside restaurant and our guide and I go talk with a man, who gets a woman with a calculator and they "calculate" for awhile, and then says he will have to go to Luperon with my money to change it. I decline, but in all reality, he probably would have done just that(by burro?) and been waiting for me with the change....there is an innate sense of trust going on here, but I am not ready to chance it. The all-fish menu painted on the wall looks interesting, not sure what they all are, but I see dorado (mahi-mahi) and pulpo(octopus, maybe next time!)
Back on the road, views of mountains and the coastline, beautiful greenery, small banana groves, and we swing into El Castillo to the church at the top of the hill overlooking Isabela. It was built in 1493, when La Isabela was founded by Christopher Columbus. Although the church has seen several remodels over the past 500+ years, the curved brick roof and some original brickwork remain, along with a delightful older gentleman who is the caretaker gave a grand tour, despite what little got to us through our guide, who I don't think had ever been there. The stained glass, from the early 1990s were beautiful, and the building gave off a great deal of presence and history. The views from the tower made you feel as if a tall ship was due into the harbor anytime.
The town of La Isabela, a short drive from the church on the bluffs overlooking the bay was amazing. Of course it comes with a story that in the 1950s under dictator Trujillo, a crew was ordered to "clean up" the site for the visiting Spanish archaeologists. The mostly intact ruins were then bulldozed! Most of the site has been restored to some extent, and a guide walked us through the ruins, again giving a very fast-paced explanation of each area, which only trickled down to us. There were workers using machetes cutting back the growth and piles of rocks, stones, ship ballast neatly mounded along the way. The largest structure/foundation was Chris's house right off the bluff with a perfect view of the entire harbor. And under a small thatched roof was what the guide insisted to be Chris's remains, noting he died of a cold. We left, after I purchased the perfunctory souvenir, a carved offering god. We drove to the beach, where I could spend an eternity wandering in the shallow aqua waters along the reef.
Back to town, past more cows going in the opposite direction down the middle of the road, for the bank/ATM and lunch of, guess what? chicken, beans and rice, and salad. Poor Dave was feeling the beginnings of the gift of the DR, so Rock made up for his failing appetite. Huge plates of food, local laborers crowding in to eat. What a great day! I am glad not to be packed in between the boys in the back seat and happy to be back at the boat.
No fine last supper to send Dave off with tonight, too sick even for a cold Bohemia.
Friday, we are up early to meet Dave's van to the airport. So sorry to see him leave, but no one is any fun once they have the gift of the DR! Time to go home! He was so wonderful during the passage, forced me to learn to tie a bosun's knot, and kept us well entertained at all times.
I am looking forward to us being alone on the boat, and still taking it all in, and getting some sort of routine I can grasp.
Saturday is spent giving Alma a haircut, the clippers fail , and its all scissors, and a long hairy day. I am covered with hair. Max knows his days are numbered, he keeps his distance.
Sunday we trudge up to the Yacht Club for "brunch" and have eggs, strange squash which we are told will grow on us(not sure about that, its bland and in chunks has a texture of babyfood), bacon, crepes, french toast, toast, good local coffee...Well its not the same kind of food, or buffet we are used to but tasty. A great improvement over the inedible hambergesas we tried to eat for lunch one day. We meet expats Marti and Bob, she makes breads,cookies, pies, jams and jellies to sell, and has lived here for several years, built a house overlooking the harbor. Bob is from Nebraska originally, met her in the states 2 yrs ago and here he is, lots of interesting talk. Our whole dock is up eating , and several other boaters arrive. I can see this will be a regular thing for us. We talk with Tom another boater we met in town at Shaggy's Bar earlier in the week. We have become fast friends. Its relaxed and easy and we float back down the stairs to the boat. Each day greets me with something new, each evening greets me with a beautiful sunset over the mountains, anchor lights on, and great breezes, stars aplenty, music spilling down from the YC.
Tuesday, March 31, 2009
first look at Luperon
3/15/09 Rock is snoozing and Dave and I take off to town. I have not been able to get a wifi signal, and need to let everyone know we have arrived. Tried to get internet through the marina last night, but was unsuccessful, despite help from the bar manager, sans english, and that El Presidente. Turns out they haven't had enough power to charge thier modems and equipment, but assured me it would be soon. Not soon enough for Marilyn, she needs to know today!
The dinghy motor is not having a good day, but it gets us there after we tour some of the boats in the harbor. There are several uniformed officials milling about the gate at the end of the dock. We find out they are poorly paid, and their primary source of income is collecting fees and tips.
OMG, there are goats and cows wandering around, not to mention chickens, ducks and a plethora of dogs. The streets are lined with brightly painted huts or shacks, no glass in the windows, doors open, people everywhere,kids playing in the street and sidewalks, music . Everyone is clean and dressed, no one looks hungry or obese, no not even the dogs...Some of the huts have vending areas at the front with sad fruits and veggies, most have someone leaning out the windows, we pass a hot dominoes game, and begin Dave's quest to photograph all the dogs he can. They are amazing, they are all different(in a cur dog kinda way) and are curled up sleeping wandering, and we make eye contact with one who guides us around town. They, like the people don't seem to be bothered by each other or anything else, most trot as if on a mission. I must remember to bring biscuits next time, and definitely won't be bringing Max and Alma to town. We arrive at Capt. Steve's , a restaurant that advertises free internet, showers, and a swimming pool. We have a El Presidente and I get to work emailing. Its very slow, something I am learning to live with. We order lunch and split Dave's fix: fried chicken, rice and beans and salad. Yum. Capt Steve does everything from selling meals, fresh fruits and veggies,eggs, beer, liquor(delivered to your dinghy), does laundry, arranges transportation, you name it. His wife and children wait on us, its cool and breezy, and inexpensivo. We watch the street traffic(mostly foot and motorconcho) and see our dog friend happily stretched out under someones table, that traitor!
More walking, the firehouse, park, statue of General Luperon, more dogs...lots of motorconchos buzzing around. Beautiful plants and amazing bougainvillea that are like giant shrubs with huge neon blooms, banana trees, and tons of clean laundry carefully draped on every piece of barbed wire and cactus along the way. We pass two men cooking a pig on a wooden spit, they indicate we should come back for some. Everyone smiles, and a greeting is always expected. Holaholahola. Although the poverty is pronounced, there are not many exceptions...it is the way of life here. Everyone seems happy, Dave thinks everyone may have had an El Presidente, but there are no drunken scuffles, you hear no angry words. I do not feel like an Ugly American Tourist here, but I know I am a gringo!
The dinghy motor is not having a good day, but it gets us there after we tour some of the boats in the harbor. There are several uniformed officials milling about the gate at the end of the dock. We find out they are poorly paid, and their primary source of income is collecting fees and tips.
OMG, there are goats and cows wandering around, not to mention chickens, ducks and a plethora of dogs. The streets are lined with brightly painted huts or shacks, no glass in the windows, doors open, people everywhere,kids playing in the street and sidewalks, music . Everyone is clean and dressed, no one looks hungry or obese, no not even the dogs...Some of the huts have vending areas at the front with sad fruits and veggies, most have someone leaning out the windows, we pass a hot dominoes game, and begin Dave's quest to photograph all the dogs he can. They are amazing, they are all different(in a cur dog kinda way) and are curled up sleeping wandering, and we make eye contact with one who guides us around town. They, like the people don't seem to be bothered by each other or anything else, most trot as if on a mission. I must remember to bring biscuits next time, and definitely won't be bringing Max and Alma to town. We arrive at Capt. Steve's , a restaurant that advertises free internet, showers, and a swimming pool. We have a El Presidente and I get to work emailing. Its very slow, something I am learning to live with. We order lunch and split Dave's fix: fried chicken, rice and beans and salad. Yum. Capt Steve does everything from selling meals, fresh fruits and veggies,eggs, beer, liquor(delivered to your dinghy), does laundry, arranges transportation, you name it. His wife and children wait on us, its cool and breezy, and inexpensivo. We watch the street traffic(mostly foot and motorconcho) and see our dog friend happily stretched out under someones table, that traitor!
More walking, the firehouse, park, statue of General Luperon, more dogs...lots of motorconchos buzzing around. Beautiful plants and amazing bougainvillea that are like giant shrubs with huge neon blooms, banana trees, and tons of clean laundry carefully draped on every piece of barbed wire and cactus along the way. We pass two men cooking a pig on a wooden spit, they indicate we should come back for some. Everyone smiles, and a greeting is always expected. Holaholahola. Although the poverty is pronounced, there are not many exceptions...it is the way of life here. Everyone seems happy, Dave thinks everyone may have had an El Presidente, but there are no drunken scuffles, you hear no angry words. I do not feel like an Ugly American Tourist here, but I know I am a gringo!
checking in 3/14/09
So much for a current flow of experience, I try hard to give you accounts with little to no reflections added.
3/14/09 9 am : our first visitors arrive, 5 young men , by boat. One has a uniform, with name tag Padillo, and we assume this is the Comandancia . They take seats, introduce themselves, we all catch little. I remember reading to offer something to drink and pull out several cans of coke, "no frio!" and grin.They grin back and decline, a warm coke is not what they want. A "gift" is more suitable so says Handy Andy and Papo, the guys that will deliver anything to your boat. They ask for a piece of paper and a pen, write the name of the boat down(all with quizzical looks) I am flapping my arms and via charades we get to cuervo or crow. I am relieved. They stare and mention gift again. I panic, how much is enough...and for 5 guys whos capacity is not clear...so they all get 2$ each, seem unoffended and leave. I should have offered a piece of fudge, which my friend sent us off with, to the tune of 10 pounds...so far only some of it has become one with my hips. The rest is in the freezer and will be carefully parcelled out.
Rock and Dave dispatch the Dinghy, our own personal Short Bus...painted bright yellow by Rock, oars and all. Previous to us, it was called Mr. Bill and proved that Boston Whalers don't sink, but thats someone elses tale....They are off to the governmental dock to properly check in.
I am busy getting things in their places, don't dare take the dogs for a walk without clearance, although this is later found to not be necessary. Our new neighbors consist of two sailboats , a quasi Florida trawler (all with liveaboards),and two small power boats on the other side of the dock from us, a ratty trawler at the end of the dock, the Kontiki tied along the dock facing us...a two story rust bucket that looks like its seen its last tours , and a partially submerged boat that several marina boys are pumping away at. There are some sailboats tied on the Kontiki dock against the mangroves that look abandoned. Its not the yacht clubs of the US, but its wonderful to have so few neighbors. The harbor has many more boats than we expected, maybe 50-60. I am anxious to climb the mountain of steps to the yacht club and check it out. The boys return having paid the fees, and had a brief walk around town(high-stepping I am sure) and their first El Presidente beer, those rats! The Agriculture officials are due to drive here, and before long a man and woman arrive, ask for a piece of paper and pen and then want to know if we have international garbage, we must bring it to the government dock to dispose of it. We agree to, but I know I will not be dinghying garbage across the harbor when I see the can at the end of the dock. I am proud that we have only one bag of trash in the stern garbage can. Next is what perishables and dairy we have . I point at whats left in the basket on the counter, afew onions and shallots, two potatoes and a lemon and limes. I show a half gallon of milk and deny the pounds of cheese in the other cooler. The man shrugs. Then out comes a form book with carbon paper and they ask for papers on the dogs. We are all staring at the carbon paper that requires the constant adjustment by both of them. So thats what happened to carbon paper! They spend a great deal of time working with the paperwork. I have copied tons of paperwork (vet records, rabies certificates, rabies titers, vaccine records, a letter from the vet, a USgovernment vet certificate...)and have worried needlessly. Snow them with paperwork, at one point the woman smiles at the rabies form, they confer before she writes the number down and then everything is stamped several times, and they ask for 20$ , get 24 and leave smiling. phew, glad thats over.
Now what about me getting an El Presidente?
3/14/09 9 am : our first visitors arrive, 5 young men , by boat. One has a uniform, with name tag Padillo, and we assume this is the Comandancia . They take seats, introduce themselves, we all catch little. I remember reading to offer something to drink and pull out several cans of coke, "no frio!" and grin.They grin back and decline, a warm coke is not what they want. A "gift" is more suitable so says Handy Andy and Papo, the guys that will deliver anything to your boat. They ask for a piece of paper and a pen, write the name of the boat down(all with quizzical looks) I am flapping my arms and via charades we get to cuervo or crow. I am relieved. They stare and mention gift again. I panic, how much is enough...and for 5 guys whos capacity is not clear...so they all get 2$ each, seem unoffended and leave. I should have offered a piece of fudge, which my friend sent us off with, to the tune of 10 pounds...so far only some of it has become one with my hips. The rest is in the freezer and will be carefully parcelled out.
Rock and Dave dispatch the Dinghy, our own personal Short Bus...painted bright yellow by Rock, oars and all. Previous to us, it was called Mr. Bill and proved that Boston Whalers don't sink, but thats someone elses tale....They are off to the governmental dock to properly check in.
I am busy getting things in their places, don't dare take the dogs for a walk without clearance, although this is later found to not be necessary. Our new neighbors consist of two sailboats , a quasi Florida trawler (all with liveaboards),and two small power boats on the other side of the dock from us, a ratty trawler at the end of the dock, the Kontiki tied along the dock facing us...a two story rust bucket that looks like its seen its last tours , and a partially submerged boat that several marina boys are pumping away at. There are some sailboats tied on the Kontiki dock against the mangroves that look abandoned. Its not the yacht clubs of the US, but its wonderful to have so few neighbors. The harbor has many more boats than we expected, maybe 50-60. I am anxious to climb the mountain of steps to the yacht club and check it out. The boys return having paid the fees, and had a brief walk around town(high-stepping I am sure) and their first El Presidente beer, those rats! The Agriculture officials are due to drive here, and before long a man and woman arrive, ask for a piece of paper and pen and then want to know if we have international garbage, we must bring it to the government dock to dispose of it. We agree to, but I know I will not be dinghying garbage across the harbor when I see the can at the end of the dock. I am proud that we have only one bag of trash in the stern garbage can. Next is what perishables and dairy we have . I point at whats left in the basket on the counter, afew onions and shallots, two potatoes and a lemon and limes. I show a half gallon of milk and deny the pounds of cheese in the other cooler. The man shrugs. Then out comes a form book with carbon paper and they ask for papers on the dogs. We are all staring at the carbon paper that requires the constant adjustment by both of them. So thats what happened to carbon paper! They spend a great deal of time working with the paperwork. I have copied tons of paperwork (vet records, rabies certificates, rabies titers, vaccine records, a letter from the vet, a USgovernment vet certificate...)and have worried needlessly. Snow them with paperwork, at one point the woman smiles at the rabies form, they confer before she writes the number down and then everything is stamped several times, and they ask for 20$ , get 24 and leave smiling. phew, glad thats over.
Now what about me getting an El Presidente?
Monday, March 23, 2009
Passage part 2
March 10, Tuesday
Attempted to get watermaker working for first time. Its brand new, but we were unable to even start it at dock in G'town due to water quality...so we all break out the book, turn it on manually, get a taste of some great water, hook it up to the tank and look forward to having plenty of drinking water aboard when we enter Luperon. The saline being pumped overboard stops, Dave and I go back to the book and the unit, cannot get it to work for more than afew minutes. The instructions are very vague, and I feel badly I did not investigate before leaving ...Luckily we have plenty of water on board, and coca cola for Dave, bad bottled ice tea for us. No one even mentions a beer or liquor, although I did sneak a beer yesterday afternoon, sipping cold beer on the stern watch the water go by, totally enjoying the clear horizon.
The dogs have finally done their business on the bow, I had pee pads all over the boat we were all tripping over, but they stayed dry. I watched Max and he ventures out on his own, more so when the engine slows, and Alma follows. I am still glad I strung netting along the stern, although Rock insists they have a better center of gravity and more contact with the deck. Well, someone has to worry.
More lamb pastitio for dinner(still no fish!)
We have passed out of the Sargasso Sea, still in The Triangle, and actually about 250 miles due East of Cape Canaveral. Not far from the Bahamas. Nothing in sight, calm seas, and no ships on radar. Dave and Rock pull in the outriggers, although they do not seem to decrease our speed as much as we thought, maybe a half knot. Course remains unchanged at 146 degrees/East,Southeast on a straight line to the Turks & Caicos, which we plan to round with a short southwest passage to Luperon.
Bad news for our tiny amazing passenger Sparrow, Dave found him dead on the flybridge...it was too sad it had found the perfect refuge to get to land, eventually....
March 11 Wednesday
3 am awakened by a can of artichokes bouncing down the steps...Rock is hunting the bag of tiny heath bars in the pantry and has caused a total imbalance in the pyramids of cans. I am up for my watch, shower, and duck tape the pantry shut(damnit) The wind is around 11 knots and rising and we begin to get more pronounced rolls. Tried to make a cup of tea, gave up. Want to put the outriggers back out, will wait for first light and muscle.We are 70 +/- miles from San Salvador and Dave has us positioned to arrive at the pass around the Turks & Caicos by Friday 2 am.It will then be a days trip to Luperon, with the wind.
The roll increases, the dogs skuttle around the salon like nervous pancakes. At first light we put out the outriggers, which help alittle, but we are in a very beam sea. Dave wants breakfast, and is unhappy I am not cooking, asks for souse meat...that did it for Rock who was quietly working on not being seasick....Poor Dave got an english muffin, cereal and a yogurt(no Yankees were mentioned but I am sure he though it.) Rock is sleeping or in a coma on the settee, Dave is in the pilot house, I am hearing noises again, more banging and clanging. Off we go to investigate, on the flybridge the board with cleats holding all the lines to the port outrigger, flag halliards etc... is flying around the flybridge wheeee! Grabbed the long boat hook and Dave was able to snag the loose lines to outrigger, all lines resecured, and we are back in the salon in a flash like it was nothing. I am amazed at what we do together. The dogs are especially clingy with the new added motion, Max decides to puke again for good measure. Rock is paler than pale with the dry heaves. Maybe his scopolamine patch as worn off.
I struggle to heat up white bean and chicken chili, the microwave has become a salad spinner of all I put into it. I dare not try a pot and lid. Dave and I eat in silence, Rock comes to for his watch like clockwork looking like a ghoul.
March 12, Thursday
Happy Birthday Matty and Adam!! You are having a better day, where ever you are and whatever you are doing!
Wind above 20 knots, the seas continue to beat us as we motor along right on course.
Dave suffers silently with english muffins for breakfast, happily eats Rock's. Rock is not starting out well today, continues to be seasick. I am down for my nap with the dogs panting away beside me when the engine dies ....oh such a bad sound after I felt my head would explode with the sound of the engine coming from all directions, silencing all the sea, wind and rock and roll noises.....Dave had been changing/cleaning the racor filter, and the fuel stopped to the engine. Rock too sick to tolerate the sauna, I go with Dave and watch as he repeats all the steps in bleeding the injectors and cussing the fuel delivery system. Still cannot figure out why the second filter does not take over, but the many valves and ports some labeled, most not, leave alot of room for leaving a line open or closed....but like magic, the Gardner starts back with a rumble and we are back to the rock and roll of the evil beam seas.
Dave changes course to cut through the pass between Mayaguana and Provo, hoping to decrease the seas, worries it will add time to our travels. Some change in motion, although we continue to roll. Sandwiches for lunch, without Rock's famous touch, Dave and I put lines out as we pass weedlines that have to be feeding those schools of fish I cannot catch or see. Rock is back to bed, no better.
Still not interested in cooking or food, make Dave a baked potato( at last some 'normal' food!) and a cup of chili, Rock declines to dine.
I try for a nap at dark, after watching for the lights of Provo, the incredible full moon, stars...and now the noise of the boat is so loud I cannot be still. Its in my head, and outside my head at the same crashing decibel. I am more than just restless, pillows over my head. I go to Dave, and tell him somethings wrong, but I do not know what. He rolls his eyes and checks the engine room like a sweet frustrated babysitter. Nothing amiss ...I join Rock and try to sleep but can't. An alarm I do not know goes off, I am in the salon, and Dave is searching for the source. We hear it strongest at the forward stairs, and then the aha! moment , its the Carbon Monoxide alarm. We reset it, and Dave looks at me like I am crazy, why do I have a carbon monoxide alarm when diesel engines do not produce it. Well, I had lost my mind and blubbered I couldn't remember but I did it for a reason. He shakes his head, I slink back to bed. The alarm goes off again, and this time Dave looks under his bunk, and finds the house batteries burbling over, and giving off, yes, carbon monoxide! Aha! Turns out the alternator had been progressively overcharging them, and Dave then admits to hearing the alarm give off an occasional beep, and oh by the way, maybe thats why I've had this headache..... So he aired out his bunk, stayed in the salon, and me and my women's intuition went back to bed and slept. Nothing like a happy ending to another of our almost daily events.
March 13, Friday
No one will comment on the day, but we are on course, passing land in the distance, slowing up a tad as we do not want to enter Luperon until it is light. It is an unevenful day as we get closer to our destination, the seas continue to be rough. Rock is feeling better, and it is PB&J for all, and it tastes great. We are all up in the salon/pilot house doors open and by 2:30 am Saturday morning we are idling along the north coast of the Dominican Republic. It is a long wait for daylight.
March 14, Saturday
6:30 am we are anxious to start our navigation of the channel into Bahia Luperon. The steep cliffs of the north coast look ominous, we watch the waves crash, blow holes popping up here and there. We are on the flybridge to pull in the outriggers and there is no fish on the port side. No one is sure when or where it escaped, but outriggers came up easily on this day. We have the chart and a great description and chartlet from Passages South, thank you Bruce, and we find out way right into the harbor with Rock's perfect piloting. We have agreed to see if we can get dock space at one of the two marinas as we can drop the anchor, but pulling it in with out the windlass...and then with our batteries unable to take a full load, well I did the girl thing and begged for a dock, but who knew what was available. We were on the radio to the Luperon Yacht Club, and then we ran aground right slap in the center of the harbor. Rock backed us off and our savior Lynn, from Shaggy's came over in her dinghy and guided us to the only spot available and said we would just call this an emergency landing....we attempted to pull in to the dock, but at dead low tide remained off , grounded, with our kind future neighbors catching our line while we waited for the tide. What we didn't know was we had a tremendous port list, and looked quite the emergency coming in limping. We didn't see it or notice it until we were docked. Poor Magpie, all that sympathy when we simply couldn't get the fuel transfer pump to even your tanks out. But that project was another day. Saturday came with Dave and Rock warping us over to the dock, the marina boys moving us to an outer dock, a fine breakfast was made with real bacon and eggs and toast....and showers, naps, walk the dogs and by happy hour we were all together in the marina open air restaurant overlooking the harbor, experiencing a brisk trade wind that felt marvelous and cool, viewing Magpie directly to starboard so her list was not detected, and giant El Presidente beers for all(except Max and Alma who were enjoying a still moment on the cool tile floor and introduction to the marina dogs). Following happy hour and meeting the neighbors we retreated to Magpie for grilled bison rib eyes, baked potatoes and green beans and wine. Exhausted and happy. It was a successful passage to a paradise , with enough adventure and challenge, a great friend with us, and great friends waiting to hear the tales.
Attempted to get watermaker working for first time. Its brand new, but we were unable to even start it at dock in G'town due to water quality...so we all break out the book, turn it on manually, get a taste of some great water, hook it up to the tank and look forward to having plenty of drinking water aboard when we enter Luperon. The saline being pumped overboard stops, Dave and I go back to the book and the unit, cannot get it to work for more than afew minutes. The instructions are very vague, and I feel badly I did not investigate before leaving ...Luckily we have plenty of water on board, and coca cola for Dave, bad bottled ice tea for us. No one even mentions a beer or liquor, although I did sneak a beer yesterday afternoon, sipping cold beer on the stern watch the water go by, totally enjoying the clear horizon.
The dogs have finally done their business on the bow, I had pee pads all over the boat we were all tripping over, but they stayed dry. I watched Max and he ventures out on his own, more so when the engine slows, and Alma follows. I am still glad I strung netting along the stern, although Rock insists they have a better center of gravity and more contact with the deck. Well, someone has to worry.
More lamb pastitio for dinner(still no fish!)
We have passed out of the Sargasso Sea, still in The Triangle, and actually about 250 miles due East of Cape Canaveral. Not far from the Bahamas. Nothing in sight, calm seas, and no ships on radar. Dave and Rock pull in the outriggers, although they do not seem to decrease our speed as much as we thought, maybe a half knot. Course remains unchanged at 146 degrees/East,Southeast on a straight line to the Turks & Caicos, which we plan to round with a short southwest passage to Luperon.
Bad news for our tiny amazing passenger Sparrow, Dave found him dead on the flybridge...it was too sad it had found the perfect refuge to get to land, eventually....
March 11 Wednesday
3 am awakened by a can of artichokes bouncing down the steps...Rock is hunting the bag of tiny heath bars in the pantry and has caused a total imbalance in the pyramids of cans. I am up for my watch, shower, and duck tape the pantry shut(damnit) The wind is around 11 knots and rising and we begin to get more pronounced rolls. Tried to make a cup of tea, gave up. Want to put the outriggers back out, will wait for first light and muscle.We are 70 +/- miles from San Salvador and Dave has us positioned to arrive at the pass around the Turks & Caicos by Friday 2 am.It will then be a days trip to Luperon, with the wind.
The roll increases, the dogs skuttle around the salon like nervous pancakes. At first light we put out the outriggers, which help alittle, but we are in a very beam sea. Dave wants breakfast, and is unhappy I am not cooking, asks for souse meat...that did it for Rock who was quietly working on not being seasick....Poor Dave got an english muffin, cereal and a yogurt(no Yankees were mentioned but I am sure he though it.) Rock is sleeping or in a coma on the settee, Dave is in the pilot house, I am hearing noises again, more banging and clanging. Off we go to investigate, on the flybridge the board with cleats holding all the lines to the port outrigger, flag halliards etc... is flying around the flybridge wheeee! Grabbed the long boat hook and Dave was able to snag the loose lines to outrigger, all lines resecured, and we are back in the salon in a flash like it was nothing. I am amazed at what we do together. The dogs are especially clingy with the new added motion, Max decides to puke again for good measure. Rock is paler than pale with the dry heaves. Maybe his scopolamine patch as worn off.
I struggle to heat up white bean and chicken chili, the microwave has become a salad spinner of all I put into it. I dare not try a pot and lid. Dave and I eat in silence, Rock comes to for his watch like clockwork looking like a ghoul.
March 12, Thursday
Happy Birthday Matty and Adam!! You are having a better day, where ever you are and whatever you are doing!
Wind above 20 knots, the seas continue to beat us as we motor along right on course.
Dave suffers silently with english muffins for breakfast, happily eats Rock's. Rock is not starting out well today, continues to be seasick. I am down for my nap with the dogs panting away beside me when the engine dies ....oh such a bad sound after I felt my head would explode with the sound of the engine coming from all directions, silencing all the sea, wind and rock and roll noises.....Dave had been changing/cleaning the racor filter, and the fuel stopped to the engine. Rock too sick to tolerate the sauna, I go with Dave and watch as he repeats all the steps in bleeding the injectors and cussing the fuel delivery system. Still cannot figure out why the second filter does not take over, but the many valves and ports some labeled, most not, leave alot of room for leaving a line open or closed....but like magic, the Gardner starts back with a rumble and we are back to the rock and roll of the evil beam seas.
Dave changes course to cut through the pass between Mayaguana and Provo, hoping to decrease the seas, worries it will add time to our travels. Some change in motion, although we continue to roll. Sandwiches for lunch, without Rock's famous touch, Dave and I put lines out as we pass weedlines that have to be feeding those schools of fish I cannot catch or see. Rock is back to bed, no better.
Still not interested in cooking or food, make Dave a baked potato( at last some 'normal' food!) and a cup of chili, Rock declines to dine.
I try for a nap at dark, after watching for the lights of Provo, the incredible full moon, stars...and now the noise of the boat is so loud I cannot be still. Its in my head, and outside my head at the same crashing decibel. I am more than just restless, pillows over my head. I go to Dave, and tell him somethings wrong, but I do not know what. He rolls his eyes and checks the engine room like a sweet frustrated babysitter. Nothing amiss ...I join Rock and try to sleep but can't. An alarm I do not know goes off, I am in the salon, and Dave is searching for the source. We hear it strongest at the forward stairs, and then the aha! moment , its the Carbon Monoxide alarm. We reset it, and Dave looks at me like I am crazy, why do I have a carbon monoxide alarm when diesel engines do not produce it. Well, I had lost my mind and blubbered I couldn't remember but I did it for a reason. He shakes his head, I slink back to bed. The alarm goes off again, and this time Dave looks under his bunk, and finds the house batteries burbling over, and giving off, yes, carbon monoxide! Aha! Turns out the alternator had been progressively overcharging them, and Dave then admits to hearing the alarm give off an occasional beep, and oh by the way, maybe thats why I've had this headache..... So he aired out his bunk, stayed in the salon, and me and my women's intuition went back to bed and slept. Nothing like a happy ending to another of our almost daily events.
March 13, Friday
No one will comment on the day, but we are on course, passing land in the distance, slowing up a tad as we do not want to enter Luperon until it is light. It is an unevenful day as we get closer to our destination, the seas continue to be rough. Rock is feeling better, and it is PB&J for all, and it tastes great. We are all up in the salon/pilot house doors open and by 2:30 am Saturday morning we are idling along the north coast of the Dominican Republic. It is a long wait for daylight.
March 14, Saturday
6:30 am we are anxious to start our navigation of the channel into Bahia Luperon. The steep cliffs of the north coast look ominous, we watch the waves crash, blow holes popping up here and there. We are on the flybridge to pull in the outriggers and there is no fish on the port side. No one is sure when or where it escaped, but outriggers came up easily on this day. We have the chart and a great description and chartlet from Passages South, thank you Bruce, and we find out way right into the harbor with Rock's perfect piloting. We have agreed to see if we can get dock space at one of the two marinas as we can drop the anchor, but pulling it in with out the windlass...and then with our batteries unable to take a full load, well I did the girl thing and begged for a dock, but who knew what was available. We were on the radio to the Luperon Yacht Club, and then we ran aground right slap in the center of the harbor. Rock backed us off and our savior Lynn, from Shaggy's came over in her dinghy and guided us to the only spot available and said we would just call this an emergency landing....we attempted to pull in to the dock, but at dead low tide remained off , grounded, with our kind future neighbors catching our line while we waited for the tide. What we didn't know was we had a tremendous port list, and looked quite the emergency coming in limping. We didn't see it or notice it until we were docked. Poor Magpie, all that sympathy when we simply couldn't get the fuel transfer pump to even your tanks out. But that project was another day. Saturday came with Dave and Rock warping us over to the dock, the marina boys moving us to an outer dock, a fine breakfast was made with real bacon and eggs and toast....and showers, naps, walk the dogs and by happy hour we were all together in the marina open air restaurant overlooking the harbor, experiencing a brisk trade wind that felt marvelous and cool, viewing Magpie directly to starboard so her list was not detected, and giant El Presidente beers for all(except Max and Alma who were enjoying a still moment on the cool tile floor and introduction to the marina dogs). Following happy hour and meeting the neighbors we retreated to Magpie for grilled bison rib eyes, baked potatoes and green beans and wine. Exhausted and happy. It was a successful passage to a paradise , with enough adventure and challenge, a great friend with us, and great friends waiting to hear the tales.
Passage to Luperon 3/7/09-3/14/09
I have been so captivated by this place, and factor in very slow internet service with very limited bandwidths, great local beer, meeting new people, and getting used to a very laid back lifestyle, I am remiss in keeping up with this great journey.
Here are my journal summaries of our trip from Georgetown, SC directly to Luperon, Domincan Republic.
Saturday March 7, 2009.
8:05 am
tearful goodbyes to our dear friends, I can't believe we are really leaving. Half of me wonders if we will limp back in afew hours with something needing Jamie's magic powers.
We cruise out the Sampit River uneventfully, I take afew half hearted pictures, and there as we enter Winyah Bay are friends at the very point of East Bay Park waving and taking pictures, how wonderful ! Goodbye Georgetown, I have my top ten things I love and hate about you, but thats another entry...
Its now just Rock, our close friend Dave signed on for the adventure, Max and Alma the clueless SWDs, and me aboard Magpie, 44 feet of power in motion. And motion it is as we enter the channel between jettys and on to the ocean and the groundswell that rocks us on our course due east,southeast at 146 degrees.
We dined on eggsalad sandwiches, as we pass the seabuoy, having skipped breakfast to finish tying down stuff, getting last minute things stowed.... We are joined by a parade of porpoises, and seagulls.
Last look at land, and its time for my nap. Once awake, I notice more motion, and stuff beach towels in all cabinets and the pantry shelves to keep the clatter down. Outriggers are out to decrease the motion.Max and Alma are low to the ground, like big fuzzy throw rugs scooting around the cabin. I take them on the bow with leashes, but they are happy to return to the salon, and stay flat.Max throws up, no kibble today.I am queasy, the boys are ready for dinner. I bake a 'Mrs Budds chicken pie' to rave reviews, preferring to go back below to tune out the noise of things continuing to move and settle,rock and roll.
12 midnight, I hear a terrible thumping at the stern, Rock on watch and we go out, dogs creeping low behind us. It takes a minute or two, but Rock discovers the Danforth anchor, once secured to the stern has come partially loose and is banging away, Rock out on the swim platform but cannot secure. I wake Dave, but we are unable to pull it up or get it back into its holdings and Rock lets it go. I feel sad for it, as Jamie repaired it, and I had painted it, and it just disappeared.
4am: my watch starts, and being the one who remembered daylight savings my shift is three hours instead of 4. I am less queasy, and note that there is barely a serving of Mrs Budd's left in the pan, no thanks I just ate a bar of soap. I mark a ships passage on radar, big and not many lights, the distances look less than they are and I worry needlessly. The engine room is hot,hot, hot, gauges checked, listen for odd sounds, smells...back out of the sauna.
March 8, Sunday
after 8 am:Its raisin bran, and coffee for breakfast for Dave. and Rock happily finishes off Mrs Budd's chicken pie. Hope my homemade meals come close to Mrs Budd's comfort food. I try out PB&J on saltines, not bad. I take my vitamins and head for the toilet(head) to set them free. Nap time, awakened by 10:30 as we pass the Gulf Stream, and rows of weedline: time to fish! I set out two rods, with lots of advise, and Alma and Max join me on the stern to watch the clear blue water and sky, and the clean horizon.
Coldcuts for lunch,Rock's famous sandwiches piled high.
Hoping for gourmet fish dinner, but no luck. Chili on the stove, cornbread scrapped fearing it will slosh about too much in the oven.
A nearly full moon rises on the port, as the sun setsin a flash on the starboard. The stars are amazing, the Big Dipper looks like it will scrape the flybridge.
7:30 pm, the engine dies a sputtering death, all hands to the engine room, racor filters changed, ATF poured in, but its gone dry and Dave bleeds each injector as we drift calmly with a roll here and there. Lots of muttering going on , as the complexities of the fuel pumping system are discussed with no real outcome other than the engine finally starting and we are back on course.
4 am ship passed port side , looked like a football stadium with a single light bulb hanging at either end...hard to see red/green light, I panic as two miles on radar looks like it is bearing down on us.
March 9 Monday:
12 midnight,Engine room alarm goes off, smoke billows from engine room, belts are smoking, Dave greases them, worries this will continue. I also worry thoughout my watch keeping close eye on the temps. By 7 am the noise from the belts revs up, Dave and Rock go below and eventually belts are cut, leaving us without hydrolic power to the windlass and bow thruster, neither will affect out passage at this point. Eggs,sausage,toast for the boys, nice to be able to cook.
Continue to be skunked by the schools of fish down there.Hot dogs for lunch(more PB&J for me), Lamb and eggplant pastitio for dinner. Dave doesn't eat lamb(only Yankees do!) but it is eaten and will fullfill the requirement, delicious to us.
Find baby sparrow on deck, amazing!! Where did it come from, how did a baby land bird get way out here? Dave warns it will not live. I put bread and fresh water out, know it will ride to Luperon with us. Max intent on following it as it hops and flies around the boat.
We are in the Bermuda Triangle, and approaching the Sargasso Sea. Course steady, porpoises , small and frisky seen off the bow.
Here are my journal summaries of our trip from Georgetown, SC directly to Luperon, Domincan Republic.
Saturday March 7, 2009.
8:05 am
tearful goodbyes to our dear friends, I can't believe we are really leaving. Half of me wonders if we will limp back in afew hours with something needing Jamie's magic powers.
We cruise out the Sampit River uneventfully, I take afew half hearted pictures, and there as we enter Winyah Bay are friends at the very point of East Bay Park waving and taking pictures, how wonderful ! Goodbye Georgetown, I have my top ten things I love and hate about you, but thats another entry...
Its now just Rock, our close friend Dave signed on for the adventure, Max and Alma the clueless SWDs, and me aboard Magpie, 44 feet of power in motion. And motion it is as we enter the channel between jettys and on to the ocean and the groundswell that rocks us on our course due east,southeast at 146 degrees.
We dined on eggsalad sandwiches, as we pass the seabuoy, having skipped breakfast to finish tying down stuff, getting last minute things stowed.... We are joined by a parade of porpoises, and seagulls.
Last look at land, and its time for my nap. Once awake, I notice more motion, and stuff beach towels in all cabinets and the pantry shelves to keep the clatter down. Outriggers are out to decrease the motion.Max and Alma are low to the ground, like big fuzzy throw rugs scooting around the cabin. I take them on the bow with leashes, but they are happy to return to the salon, and stay flat.Max throws up, no kibble today.I am queasy, the boys are ready for dinner. I bake a 'Mrs Budds chicken pie' to rave reviews, preferring to go back below to tune out the noise of things continuing to move and settle,rock and roll.
12 midnight, I hear a terrible thumping at the stern, Rock on watch and we go out, dogs creeping low behind us. It takes a minute or two, but Rock discovers the Danforth anchor, once secured to the stern has come partially loose and is banging away, Rock out on the swim platform but cannot secure. I wake Dave, but we are unable to pull it up or get it back into its holdings and Rock lets it go. I feel sad for it, as Jamie repaired it, and I had painted it, and it just disappeared.
4am: my watch starts, and being the one who remembered daylight savings my shift is three hours instead of 4. I am less queasy, and note that there is barely a serving of Mrs Budd's left in the pan, no thanks I just ate a bar of soap. I mark a ships passage on radar, big and not many lights, the distances look less than they are and I worry needlessly. The engine room is hot,hot, hot, gauges checked, listen for odd sounds, smells...back out of the sauna.
March 8, Sunday
after 8 am:Its raisin bran, and coffee for breakfast for Dave. and Rock happily finishes off Mrs Budd's chicken pie. Hope my homemade meals come close to Mrs Budd's comfort food. I try out PB&J on saltines, not bad. I take my vitamins and head for the toilet(head) to set them free. Nap time, awakened by 10:30 as we pass the Gulf Stream, and rows of weedline: time to fish! I set out two rods, with lots of advise, and Alma and Max join me on the stern to watch the clear blue water and sky, and the clean horizon.
Coldcuts for lunch,Rock's famous sandwiches piled high.
Hoping for gourmet fish dinner, but no luck. Chili on the stove, cornbread scrapped fearing it will slosh about too much in the oven.
A nearly full moon rises on the port, as the sun setsin a flash on the starboard. The stars are amazing, the Big Dipper looks like it will scrape the flybridge.
7:30 pm, the engine dies a sputtering death, all hands to the engine room, racor filters changed, ATF poured in, but its gone dry and Dave bleeds each injector as we drift calmly with a roll here and there. Lots of muttering going on , as the complexities of the fuel pumping system are discussed with no real outcome other than the engine finally starting and we are back on course.
4 am ship passed port side , looked like a football stadium with a single light bulb hanging at either end...hard to see red/green light, I panic as two miles on radar looks like it is bearing down on us.
March 9 Monday:
12 midnight,Engine room alarm goes off, smoke billows from engine room, belts are smoking, Dave greases them, worries this will continue. I also worry thoughout my watch keeping close eye on the temps. By 7 am the noise from the belts revs up, Dave and Rock go below and eventually belts are cut, leaving us without hydrolic power to the windlass and bow thruster, neither will affect out passage at this point. Eggs,sausage,toast for the boys, nice to be able to cook.
Continue to be skunked by the schools of fish down there.Hot dogs for lunch(more PB&J for me), Lamb and eggplant pastitio for dinner. Dave doesn't eat lamb(only Yankees do!) but it is eaten and will fullfill the requirement, delicious to us.
Find baby sparrow on deck, amazing!! Where did it come from, how did a baby land bird get way out here? Dave warns it will not live. I put bread and fresh water out, know it will ride to Luperon with us. Max intent on following it as it hops and flies around the boat.
We are in the Bermuda Triangle, and approaching the Sargasso Sea. Course steady, porpoises , small and frisky seen off the bow.
Tuesday, March 17, 2009
Happy Saint Paddys Day from the Kelly-Pompans
well, we finally made it to Shaggy's after the wonderful Lynne brought us to the dock at Luperon Yacht Club on 3/14/09....when we limped in from our 6+ day passage from georgetown, SC. We were promised a free rum drink so here we are and I am staring at the green balloons and wondering the significance...while D. is reading his first newspaper in 7 days we looked at the date and OMG, its St Paddys! So, big surprise we made it here in one piece and although we did not know we "limped in" we had a sizeable list to port which we were able to correct today with a 400 gallon fuel addition. We looked pretty pathetic until this afternoon, and it was alittle inconvenient to work around....More to follow about our 7 days at sea, and this will have to be a fluid timetable as I get used to the Dominican Way.Pictures also to follow. Thanks for your patience!!!!
Wednesday, March 4, 2009
going,going, go later
well, preparations made and all last minute details being attended to, we opted to purchase an extended forecast(mostly because I am remiss in SSB operation...sure looks like a CB to me!!!) and today by noon we have opted to be prudent and delay our departure from tomorrow until Saturday morning to avoid an occluded low and hopefully some unpleasant weather two days out. Hope the next weather report on Friday will not have changed. I am ready to go! Our crew has dropped by one, Eric Dobbyn, has opted to be gainfully employed and we wish him a future visit on Magpie. Dave Mason arrived on schedule Tuesday evening and worked well into late Wednesday before driving home to his wonderful wife Charleen, until Fridays return. We got most everything completed, and with the extra two days I will hopefully be able to buy a new washer as ours died two days ago(well just the motherboard....) and power wash the engine room after Daves help there(no really, thanks!!!) Some netting needs to be put up to keep the barking sheep from sliding off the stern in rough weather , and securing all that might turn into a lethal projectile is the ongoing task. And the trip to the laundrymat to ensure that we leave with something clean to wear. The fishing belts arrived today and despite Dave's assertion we will not stop to fish, I am hopeful that the Gulf Stream will change his mind. We have a huge cooler on the stern that will be full of Bucky's Big Tuna ice in preparation of mahi-mahi, tuna, fishfishfish.....
So early to bed and tomorrow will be another big day of goodbyes in Georgetown, and great adventures ahead.
So early to bed and tomorrow will be another big day of goodbyes in Georgetown, and great adventures ahead.
Wednesday, February 18, 2009
Magpie prepares to leave Georgetown,SC for the Dominican Republic. Currently docked on the Harborwalk at the River Room Restaurant's dockspace, the countdown begins. Join Rock Bradford, Captain, Maggie Eliot, First Mate & Bilge Monkey, Max and Alama, Security and Barking Sheep, and the guest crew as they set out for points south.
Our flexible and schedule-free plan is to explore the DR, and cruise the islands ending up in Venezuela by hurricane season.
Please be patient with my first blogging attempt, and stay tuned for : a goodbye to Georgetown, the +/- two week countdown as we run out of time on the long and short lists of things to be done before leaving, the search for a three day weather window, and the addition of the brave and foolish crew to join us to the DR Dave Mason and Eric Dobbyn.
Our flexible and schedule-free plan is to explore the DR, and cruise the islands ending up in Venezuela by hurricane season.
Please be patient with my first blogging attempt, and stay tuned for : a goodbye to Georgetown, the +/- two week countdown as we run out of time on the long and short lists of things to be done before leaving, the search for a three day weather window, and the addition of the brave and foolish crew to join us to the DR Dave Mason and Eric Dobbyn.
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