Landfall in Tuamotus

12. May. 2015
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French Polynesia
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2 Comments

Author: Pete

Location: Raroia, Tuamotus

Date: May 10, 2015

Made landfall in Raroia in the morning! After a dry, easy passage we pulled within sight of the scattered, low, coral islets with our customary landfall squalls. Our timing was perfect though; we arrived exactly when we planned to, a feat when you’re being propelled only by the wind over the span of 400 miles of open sea. Is the wind even blowing outside right now? We were eager to be through the pass, but we took a few tacks outside the mouth of the atoll to let the strong wind and blinding rain pass. We took the opportunity to clean the boat, get the salt off the decks and sails, take a shower, and wash whatever clothes we happened to be wearing. Still multitasking even off duty; we can’t seem to escape being productive. The squalls blew over and we were back to mild winds. A double rainbow beamed bright to the south, mirroring our fabulous welcomes to Galapagos and the Marquesas. The South Pacific is incredible.

I checked all the engine fluids (very important, see landfall in Colombia) and fired up the girls. We left the mainsail flying but furled the jib for the pass. Learned this practice from our buddies on Options III from the Bahamas. If for some reason power is lost in the pass, engines die from a fuel or air blockage, a prop gets wrapped with floating line, a transmission fails, whatever, you already have at least one sail up, the more arduous of the two to unfurl, to get out of the tight, rocky pass. So we motor sailed almost straight upwind into the low spot between the low islands.

Our charts were accurate except the magnetic compass headings, which were 30 years old and off by about 30 degrees. Good thing the pass is indicated with range markers, two towers that line up in front of you when your boat is on the right line in. We also experience a ‘rage’, which is a patch of aggravated, choppy water where the tide going in or out and the wind or waves are going opposite. It’s like petting a cat the wrong way, the fur all sticks up in tufts and you they give you that scowly, ears back annoyed look. Or is that just how cats normally look?

We were almost at slack tide, so the rage wasn’t significant, but you still could feel it pulling on the boat and tugging at the rudders. Right next to the roiling water were patches of placid, flat water, depending on bottom topography.After we punched through the rage, which only existed outside the pass, the going was pretty easy. The dark blue water immediately changed to aquamarine, and our deck spotters pointed out coral heads on our flanks.

The pass was deep and wide though, an easy run. We turned downwind to follow our approach plan and furled the mainsail so it wouldn’t gybe on us. We weaved south between green and red beacons, making mental note that these were European buoys, and therefore backwards. Red on the left when returning from sea. LEFT! A mile south the little town waited, but we had the whole atoll to ourselves. Pulled into a spot recommended by other boats who had been here in sand at about 15 meters with scattered coral heads. We dove to check the anchor then made popcorn and grapefruit for a celebratory snack before taking to the water.

We all finned to the nearest coral head and were checking out the fish. Through her snorkel Miranda muffles, “EEk!” as if she’s seen a mouse and pushes me in front of her as a 4 foot long shark slithers by. In all fairness, I’m the one armed with the speargun. Then another goes by, then another. Then a couple more. Oop, and there’s one more. We group up and watch these (little) apex predators watch us. The four of us ended up comically standing on the coral (bad) with our spears and dive knives pointed out at the blue, bravely staring into the deep with our chattering knees. In total at any one time there were six sharks, black tip reef, white tip reef, and gray reef sharks, cruising by us. Most were small, likely all were harmless, but we hadn’t slept much the previous night, and courageously decided to get the hell out of the water. We finned back over deep water in a pack, bristling with pointy steel. Real tough guys. If a big fish, a ray, or a dolphin came swimming around for a curious look at us, we’d be delighted. The sharks I’m sure were just checking us out. Still, six in one frame is enough for me, at least before noon.

Spent the rest of the day on the island. Quite a difference from the terrain of Marquesas. Flat, coral, and more palm trees than you can shake a harpoon at. Welcome to Tuamotus.

Galapagos First Days

25. Mar. 2015
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Galapagos
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1 Comment

Author: Pete

Location: Isla Isabela, Galapagos

First days on the Galapagos Islands!

After pulling into the tight anchorage on Isabella we LAYED anchor happily in soft, grippy sand. It was strange to have other boats, lights, odd sounds, and smells of the earth wafting from the land. We slept like babies in the quiet anchorage.

In the morning we woke and called our agent, JC Desoto, on channel 67. He’s a popular guy, seemingly working in all things cruiser related. He’s always zipping around town on his folding bike with a handheld radio on his him or at his ear. He’s the guy you want to know in town.

He answered our radio call and I went in to meet him at the dock by dinghy after putting the engine back on the boat. Then I came back to Tayrona because I’d forgotten the paperwork in my excitement to get to shore after TEN days on the boat. (In my defense, I thought he was coming out to us on Tayrona. False.)

He took our information, told us to sit tight until later that afternoon when we’d be visited by three officials. I felt like I was Scrooge, expecting the three ghosts of Christmas “when the bell tolls one!” They arrived rather un-ethereally in an overloaded dinghy. They, however were only the pre-preliminary cohort. They took of our data, told us to stay on the boat until later when a larger contingency was coming. Later a second, more official group, the preliminary cohort, arrived, took more of our data and then told us to stay on the boat until tomorrow when another, larger and more important contingency would be coming. We stayed on the boat until they left, then scampered around town for a few hours until dark. Rebels! Walking around the town felt like gold. We hadn’t walked more than 38 feet in any one direction for over a week! First steps off the boat and we found these guys to be our welcoming crew:

In the morning the final, larger contingency arrived for the full paper-workout. We passed inspection, signed all our forms, paid JC the $1300 we owed him for all the visas, paperwork and such.

Then we officially went to shore! In to town we went! Found a great bakery, Delicias, and walked out to the Giant Tortoise breeding center at the end of a long boardwalk through mangrove swamp.

The center takes tortoises from the wild that are having difficulty breeding in the wild and gives them a more conducive environment. You know, mood lighting, Berry White on the radio, all the wild greens you can eat. No, in all seriousness, the tortoises struggle not only with introduced species (cats, donkeys, goats, dogs, rats) destroying their young, but also the sheer size of the island. They’re so slow moving, and there is so much terrain that they have a difficult time finding one another to mate!

Here’s a great Radio Lab podcast about the steps taken by the Galapagos to control the goat population. Involves helicopters and machine guns. Really, take a listen when you’re cleaning the house. It’s interesting. http://www.radiolab.org/story/galapagos/

So there are covered cages with 0-1 year old tortoises. They’re covered so cats, birds, and rats can’t get to them. Then the dinner plate sized 1-3 year olds are outside. The 3-6 year tortoises are manhole cover sized, and are reintroduced into the wild until they are 25-30 years old and can reproduce. In my head there’s some nagging parents saying, “Yah not allowed to date until ya 30!”

And then there’s the mating pen. Adult tortoises roaming a good sized love nest until they breed, and tourists watching the magic. Cool. The clank and grunt loudly during the whole thing. The tortoises, not the tourists. It’s hard for me to imagine where the females store a clutch of 30 eggs in their shell during gestation.

Yesterday we hiked up Sierra Negra, one of Isabelas volcanic craters. It was an early start and we were being jostled along in a open-sided chiva up the mountain before our eyelids were fully opened. I think we came in with the dinghy and they picked us up from there, but I can’t be sure. We poured out of the chiva, eager to see if our legs still worked. Up the packed dirt trail we trudged through the green, lush foliage. Look, Darwin’s finches!

The intensity of the earthly smells was intoxicating. The first couple of kilometers were uphill and our legs were remembering their former selves when we reached the rim of the caldera. The collapsed volcanic cone left a 12 km wide crater that occasionally filled with lava when flare ups cracked the surface and oozed molten rock out. We hiked along the rim with a gorgeous panoramic view of the steep, green cliffs ending abruptly with charred rocky plateau that stretched into the distance.

Along our hike we encountered this big guy lounging in the path like he owned the place. A giant tortoise in his natural habitat! We were psyched to be in the presence of this chunker that would well outlive us. Gives credit to the slow life.

This morning Liza and Felix took off for Isla Santa Cruz to do some exploring and surfing. They tried to surf here, but were welcomed into the waves by a shark’s silhouette cutting lengthwise through a barrel. They bailed and went to a different island in search of non-lethal surfing, and now Miranda and I are again alone on the boat. Nice. It’s been consistent weather here, sunny mornings and cool, rainy afternoons. I’ll take it.

More later from Tayrona.

San Blas Islands, Panama

06. Feb. 2015
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Panama
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6 Comments

Author: Pete

After clearing in to Panama at Porvenir, we sailed east to the Cayos Holandes. Sailing is a glorious thing when a reef acts as a break wall and there’s no waves to be seen. Made it to Miriadup and anchored in six feet of water on a shelf that dropped to eighty with haste.

Tandem anchored with our new bruce anchor because the holding was poor in crunchy coral bits and our main anchor wouldn’t dig in much. The water was kicked up from the wind and the water clarity wasn’t great.

The next morning we had a leisurely breakfast, with nowhere to be. Mango, granola, yogurt, and fresh coconut hacked out of it’s woody bonds by yours truly. Spent the rest of the day snorkeling off Waisaladup, just to the west. Great drop off with nice soft corals. Sometimes I feel bored now without being on the spearfishing hunt. I contented myself to work on my free diving depth along the drop off. Saw a great Spotted Eagle Ray at thirty feet and pursued him for a while. Also, took a quick dinghy trip out close to a wreck for some pictures of the rusted beast.

Look Mom, above and below water:

That night we had drinks on Eventide, another Lagoon 380 with young bucks aboard hoping to make a circumnavigation. They have roughly the same itinerary as us. I think we’ll see them along the way.

I should also mention that before we headed out to go snorkeling, a young guy in a lancha pulled up selling crab. We declined, but he volunteered to take me out spearfishing on the rough outer reef the following day. So, I jumped for the opportunity. The next morning, I met up with Jesus and took off in his hand-built canoe to the deep water. He had a pistol-type spear gun, and I had my trusty Hawaiian sling as we zoomed out in his narrow boat. His armament and nice fins contrasted starkly with his 1970’s Sea Quest style oval mask and junky snorkel. Waves splashed into the little boat, another friend Antonio bailed with a plastic bottle, smiling with his two unfortunate front teeth. Jesus fished as we went, all the while motor us through the choppy breakwater, he and caught a 25 pound, four foot long Permit, gorgeous and silver, on a simple hand line. Very impressive.

Weaving through the breaking waves we anchored with a rusty, four pound Danforth tied to a truck brake drum on Frankenstein line, all pieced together out of small bits. Right into the coral he threw it and into the rolling water we plunged. Jesus’s spear gun could hit fish at 3 meters from spear-tip to fish, and mine only 50 centimeters. He also swam like a shark, and really outfished me 20 to 1. I was worried about the ethics of him taking me out to spearfish since gringos aren’t supposed to. But really, I just snorkeled and watched him fish. When we got back to the boat Antonio reassured me that it was okay to feel like a loser when spearfishin’ wit Jésus. “Es una maquina”, said Antonio. “He’s a machine.”

The topography was fantastic. With sheer walls and deep caves. Eventually two reef sharks showed up so we took off and fished elsewhere. Dropped off half of our catch to Jesus’s island. The little kids climbed on me and looked at all my stuff. I felt ostentatious in my wetsuit.

Jesus dropped me off at the Tayrona in the afternoon. He left me two crab and three Pargo rojo (red snapper) and I paid him twenty bucks and a pair of spare dive gloves. He took off happily. I was exhausted.

While I was out in the deep, the rest of the Tayrona crew explored more of the area by snorkel and relaxed on the beach with some watery, but refreshing, Colombian beer left over from our time in Cartagena.

After a few days in the Holandes, we pulled up anchor after a great bacon and egg breakfast. We headed west to snorkel the wreck and have lunch on Dog Island.

Later in the afternoon, we motored a few minutes north to an anchorage off the picturesque Chichime. The girls read in the palm shade and I build a castle in the perfect sand.

Haven’t had a good beach in a while and it got me in a Zen mood. So I came up with this. Sounded prosaic at the time.

“Life isn’t about searching for the best starfish on the beach. It’s about building the best sand castle.”

Flat calm the next day as we started on our way to Colon. Perfect day for being out on the water. Terrible day for sailing. We motored some eight hours from the San Blas heading west. The tiny islands slid slowly to our stern in the mirror sea. Port engine keeps losing coolant. More now than before. Stopped the engines and bobbed for an hour, topped up, and kept motoring. Another project for pre-canal wait time in Colon.

Followed the brooding mountainous coast for 40 miles, rounded Isla Grande, then Linton. The anchorage is gorgeous with dark green jungle dumping into the bay. We anchored off the south shore and immediately put the dinghy in. Asked around at three boats for Tom Valentin, an electrician who was recommended to us. He wasn’t home when we finally found his boat, so we put ashore at Isla Linton.

The island is uninhabited and jungle encrusted. The diversity of the trees alone makes it look like a coral reef. There’s an abandoned research station on the island… and something lurking in the trees…

MONKEYS! Big ones! Lithe, dark forms scuttle in the under brush and over growth as we landed and walked through the foliage to the eroding building. They look like big cats until they stand up. Tall cats! They walk on two legs with no hunch or lurching. It’s disconcerting how quickly they walk and just how human their bipedal locomotion is. I thought we had the monopoly on that! They come close to check us out. Too close. Miranda runs to the water. Monkeys hate the water, right? They’re big and strong, leaping huge gaps between the palms. They have sharp fangs and calculating eyes. We give them wide berth. It’s like Planet of the Apes with these creatures strolling in the ruins of the abandoned research center, slowly being reclaimed by jungle and sea.

We take pictures and then head back to the boat for a swim. Made pizza for dinner with our last real provisions before breaking into the dried goods. Need to get to Colon to resupply.

Writing in my journal I noticed that it’s the beginning of February, and I’m still writing 2014 for the year! That’s pretty out of touch man.