So you want to cross a Sea?

The plan was simple: Convince Nadia to come along, set sail from Antigua, and show up for some delightful sailing in San Blas 1100 nautical miles (about 2000 km) and 7-11 days later. One of the greatest charms of sailing is that it never goes the way you plan.


Antigua revisited

I like Antigua on a general basis. Lord Nelson Dockyard is a nice historical place, and there are lots of friendly sailing people all around. At least during the season.

There was virtually no one there. When we arrived on a Saturday, Sunsail still had a sign saying “Open daily”. By the time we left on Monday the sign said “Open November 1st”. The nice little convenience store suddenly hardly had any food, and the friendly local pub was almost devoid of friendly drunken sailors.

But the beach was still beautiful.

So we were faced with two difficulties: Few provisions near Nelsons Dockyard meant we had to sail somewhere to stock up for the Caribbean Sea, and the fact that Nadia had never tried being for any long time in a boat, not to mention making food on one, meat we should give her a sea trial. Thus we decided to sail to France, or to be more precise, the overseas department of Guadaloupe.


(This boat was rowed across the Atlantic!)



Deshaies, Guadaloupe

It is incredible how all the French islands invariably have far better food than the others. It is like they somehow don’t realize that they are in the middle of no-where. We found a quaint little restaurant on the sea shore, with a quirky server, and an incredible steak. I figured that since my chef for the voyage is a vegetarian, this might be my last proper chunk of meat in more than a week.

The next day was devoted to shopping: Food, food, and some food. Nadia ended up getting closer to 20 kg of fruit, and enormous amounts of canned/dried/boxed soups. As soon as we were done shopping, we left France again.




Like diving into the sea from a high cliff in slow motion

It is hard to describe the feeling of land disappearing behind you, knowing that the only thing you will see for days is waves and skies. Somehow there was this suction of excitement in the stomach, like at the beginning of a great adventure should have.


Waves, sun, and a little wind

Plan A was to simply hoist the asymmetric spinnaker during the day, the genoa during the night, and comfortable blow downwind to Panama. But for some strange reason, the wind decided to come out of the south-west, so we found it easier to sail genoa and main. The wind was (a little too) gentle, the sun was beautiful, and there was this persistent rocking of the boat which ensured that half the dinner always ended up on the stove.

It was nice being in the middle of the ocean. Quiet and beautiful, and no disturbances. I even got some nice work done a few of the days. Somehow it was never boring, either we slept, ate, read, tried to learn spanish, did some navigation, trimmed the sails and self-steering, or just sat and talked. It must be said that my crew was good company.



Let’s go to Aruba!

Already when we left Deshaies we had the Dutch island of Aruba as a possible stopping point, it being no more than 12 hours sailing detour. So when some of the fruit started spoiling a few days out, the bread was getting stale, Nadia was getting more and more uncomfortable cooking, and I was getting ready for a steak, we made the choice: Aruba!


Surfing

Waking up the last day before Aruba, the winds started picking up. As we were sailing into the nightfall approach to Aruba, my boat surfed for the first time! With just genoa and a double reefed main up, we started catching the trailing waves, and easily did 10 knots down the face of the wave. Pretty awesome.


Boarded

Outside of airport security, I have never in my life been searched. But coming in towards Aruba, a military plane does a low fly-by over our heads, and as we sail up the south-west coast at 3am, a dark coast guard boat with 5 big muscular men pull up next to us. Not only do they board us and ask for all our travel information, but they proceed to look into cabinets and under floor boards. Do I look like a criminal?


Free champagne with breakfast!

Wow. Got to love Aruba. After no sleep all night waiting for enough light to enter Oranjestad, the first place we find which is open for Sunday breakfast serves free Champagne with it. I am amazed. Also available: (not too good but fresh) Belgian Waffles. It was somehow strange to walk on land again – if it was the lack of sleep or the constant motion the last days – but everything was moving!

We made some great friends, Chris and Julie. They had just completed sailing around the world, and were heading home to California. We had dinner with them at a local restaurant, and they had lots of nice stories and helpful Panama-hints to offer. With any luck, I might see them again some time in Panama.


It’s a boat. Things break (and it all happens in 24 hours)

We left Aruba again after only 36 hours on land, keeping in mind that we wanted a few days in the San Blas arpeggio of Panama before Nadia had to fly out. Even if this meant sailing right out into the 30 knots of wind expected by the wind-surfers.

As we leave it is blowing close to 20 knots.

We had hardly got out of Oranjestad before my genoa falls down. Literally. The shackle connecting it to the halyard is gone. So we return to Oranjestad to fix it, and leave again an hour later.

It is now definitely blowing 20, and the sun is setting.

I want to sail through the night on a poled out genoa alone, considering it more than enough sail area for the conditions, and wanting the pole to avoid accidental jibes. As I go up to get the pole out in the onset of darkness, I accidentally release the pole, which hits me in the head. And I lose the spinnaker halyard I was intending to use as pole lift. The halyard is seen blowing about 10-20 feet ahead of the boat.

We have to have the halyard, and by now it is too dark to return to Aruba. The waves are picking up to the point where the engine is not strong enough to return anyway, and I don’t dare set sail of fear that the halyard will swing straight through one during the night.

The halyard gets entwined in the standing rigging and can neither be pulled up nor down.

After about an half an hour I get hold of the halyard by climbing up on the boom. The boat is swinging wildly back and forth in the waves, and the only way to get the halyard untangled is to lead it behind the back-stays. Which means I have to climb to the end of a boom doing 10 foot swings. It is times like that which make you feel alive, as any mistake you make will get you beaten up badly, at best.

In the end I get the halyard back, the pole out, the self-steering rigged, and by 3 am I can go to sleep. In the process I have pretty much scraped up large portions of the pole on the standing rigging.

At 7 am the wind has picked up to about 25 knots, and the waves are building up toward 12 feet. We are racing along at 7 knots average speed, surfing down almost every wave. I have about 5 hours to rig a sensible system to get my pole down.

The pole comes down at noon as we jibe and head further south. It is now that I first see the full extent of the night’s dammage. The baby-stays have worn off about a millimeter on the pole, the port side genoa sheet has a knot (!) on it, and is almost chafed through at a point. Good thing we will be on a starboard tack the rest of the way.

We have hardly got the genoa out before the steering wheel loses virtually all action on the rudder. Fortunately, I have the emergency tiller handy, and we spend about 2 hours steering the boat by hand while getting the self steering sails away, and the main sail ready to heave to. By now I am seriously considering aborting the trip and heading for Columbia.

Did I mention that my whole lunch ended up on deck, and I had to eat off the floor while steering?

Fortunately, we manage to heave to nicely, and I can get to the steering wires and fix the problem. This has been intense.


Force 7

From Reed’s Nautical Almanac:
Force 7 (Near Gale): Wind speed 28-33 knots; waves 13-19 feet. Sea heaps up; white foam from breaking waves begins to streak along wind direction.


Ode to self steering

I set out on this trip never having got my boat to steer itself downwind. I knew as we set out of Guadaloupe that the only way to keep our sanity was if we figured out how. During the time we were out, a self-steering system consisting of a small dinghy sail, two sheets, some surgical tubing, and a countless number of blocks and small ropes emerged.

The self-steering sailed us more than 95% of the way, including almost every night. It went from experiencing rather benign conditions the first days, to ably handling Force 7 (Near Gale) conditions arising overnight the second day out of Aruba. It even managed to control the boat almost as well as us during surfing conditions.

It all came at a price though. The self-steering sail took some heavy wear, and we probably lost about 10-20% speed compared to hand steering. However, that seems a small price to pay for the freedom to move about the boat, and to sleep at night.


(An early version of the self-steering taking us toward Aruba)


(The self steering sail can be seen in front of the genoa as we head into the night)


Dolphins

As we approached Panama, the winds and waves gradually declined, and we had to motor the last 12 hours in. As we started the engine and turned on the (electrical) auto-pilot, I went up to the bow to practice my harmonica. As I sat there, a dolphin came. Then another. Then suddenly they were coming from all angles. At the most, 20 dolphins were racing with us at our bow.


(seven dolphins can be seen in the picture)


Customs and Immigration: $142
Lobster: $2
Welcome to San Blas Islands!

The Kuna Yala Nation, a somewhat autonomous state within Panama, is by far the most special place I’ve sailed to. There is very little modern world at all: The only telephones are solar powered booths. People get around in small dug-out canoes, which they propel with a stick, an oar, a sail, or an outboard engine, depending on the circumstances. Everything costs money for tourists, but hardly anything much: “Everyone who uses this beach must pay $1”.

We tried to find someone who would serve us dinner in the village. But the hotel weren’t too eager, and there was no other restaurant. But someone had heard that someone had caught a turtle that day, and 5 minutes later I’m standing with a turtle dinner in my hands. Price: $1.50. Incredible. For the record, turtle tastes good.



We snorkel and hang out on small islands which are hardly more than 2 feet above sea level. Typically, there is a small hut with one to three people living on each island. Snorkeling is very good here, and it is incredibly peaceful. Everything is protected by reefs, so there are no waves, and in the rainy season (now), there is hardly any wind either.

The second day I’d like to have lobster for dinner, and we stop by an island early in the morning to make dinner “reservations”, realizing that the food has to be caught. The owner is not too eager, saying that it will be very expensive for me to just by a lobster dinner. Much cheaper if I by the lobster, and then I can borrow his kitchen. Oh well. We go snorkeling.



As we are hanging out on the boat, three men sail past waving and holding up lobsters. We wave to them, and they sail up. $15 dollars for the largest lobster I’ve ever seen, $2 for more regular sized lobsters. I get two of the regular ones, and have one for lunch and one for dinner. The are very tasty. It is the first time in my life I’ve had two lobster meals in one day.


The long way to Colon



Nadia flew out today, and I’m left to take my boat to Colon, which is about 62 miles away. There is no wind, so it is almost 12 hours by motor. This boat is designed to sail. I might make it by nightfall, but considering that Colon is one of the world’s busiest ports (as it is the entrance to the Panama Canal), I’ll probably drop anchor 5 miles before I get there.


Epilogue

As I’m writing this, I realize that I’m coming to the end of the most amazing adventures in my life. It is addictive. Being out there with nature, pushing you own physical and mental limits, is rewarding not only in itself, but on this trip it has also been amply rewarded with a destination which is truly unique.

While the exact distance we have traveled is impossible to say, my GPS route is 1220 nautical miles, and according to the GPS we’ve sustained an average speed of 5.7 knots. However, those numbers say nothing about what it really is like.

I have never read much travel literature. I don’t get the hang of it. Somehow my imagination can color the fictious world of Tolkien, but it is too bounded to fill in the blanks that words cannot describe with regards to the real world. Being out there experiencing it, and now myself trying to describe it, lets me understand why.


(The Captain in San Blas. All pictures in this entry taken by Nadia.)