Hello Colombia!

But before i go there, i have to share Sara and Patricia’s antics with the flamingoes in Aruba.  The Renaissance hotel and marina where we stayed has water taxis that run their guests out to their private island, where there are flamingoes.  Fun! 

Let’s see, how’d we get here?  We cleared customs in Aruba, hoisted the jib (on the repaired solent stay) at noon, and took off in comfort on a broad reach with a lot of wind.  “And…(imagine the announcer’s voice at the race track)…they’re off!”  (Tyler authored this…whenever it could be true).  We drug a new lure behind Akimbo and settled into our watch schedule.  The average age of this crew would be the oldest of the trip, i would be the youngest aboard, and this stretch of the Colombian coast is respected as very windy.  By afternoon the wind settled down and we were sailing with the genoa alone (larger than the jib) and we had fresh mahi mahi chilling for dinner. 

The forecast spoke of no squalls.  A near full moon rose.  The genoa carried us into the night. 

Sailing into the wind feels much windier than sailing with it.  I usually pick conservative sail combinations by considering what sails i would want if i HAD TO turn around and sail upwind.  I.E. if someone fell overboard.  While i wasn’t trying to be aggressive about our progress and the genoa felt almost over-powering, even downwind, the key word here is  “almost.”  I gave us permission to make good speed by telling myself we could always roller furl half the sail up if we needed to.  Combined with building swells, we touched well over 10 knots repeatedly for a little while that night.  Noon to noon, we made a 151nm.  It was a good pace and had been comfortable.  It’s what i’m aiming for on the Panama-Hawaii leg. 

The next day we caught and released a small tuna.  The wind dropped some and we put the drifter up.  Later in the day a school of porpoise played with us…for about an hour!  They leaped clear of the water, one turned over to land on its back, they turned on their sides and looked directly into our eyes.  I’d swear they like an audience. Again i was addicting to the boat’s speed.  The drifter carried us in more and more wind until near sunset.  We took it down and unrolled the genoa for the night.  

There had been little freighter traffic the night before, but this night there was a smallish one that confused us.  When we first sighted his lights in the distance, he was dead ahead of us.  We altered course a little to miss him…and he altered course to intercept us.  We altered more, he altered more.  The wind was light.  Neither of us was moving fast, but as we got closer to him, i turned on the engine in case we might need it to dodge him?  He flashed a spotlight our way a few times.  I flashed our light back at him.  When his bow and stern were clear to me, we made a sharp turn and sped the engine up to pass off his stern.  At that point he seemed to lose interest and soon disappeared behind us, going in the opposite direction. 

The wind dropped faster than the size of the waves.  Thus, the waves rolled Akimbo, which would wag the mast and shake the wind out of the genoa.  Then when the sail refilled it would slam full and give the whole rig (and boat) a violent shake.  Torture  and abuse.  As the wind went lighter, our speed under three knots was not worth this wear and tear…on the sail, on the boat and on us.  We motored for about three hours.  When the sun came up, so did the wind…in better proportion to the wave size…and we were sailing again. 

We had another hundred miles left to go.  If our average speed continued, we risked arriving at Cartagena in the dark, before the next sunrise.  We were tired.  And the only cruisers’ notes i had found about cruising in Colombia spoke well of the five bays we were about to pass by on this coast.  Improvising, we decided to anchor in one of them to give everyone a rest, eat a quiet meal, snorkel and nap.  Plus it didn’t seem fair to take this crew from a dock in Aruba to another dock in Cartagena.  This stop confirmed for us that cruising is NOT about the cities and docks but about the remote anchorages in between (especially the ones accessible only by boat).  After 6 hours, we hoisted the jib and were off again. 

Late that afternoon, after a nap, i felt remiss about not having done a man overboard drill with this crew.  Something i had done smoothly with every crew so far.  Little did i know that chaos was about to win this round.  I was about to show my crew how NOT to rescue a man overboard.  What?  It’s important that i write this down, because i want my previous crews to know when this method won’t work. 

The MOB drill from hell:  we were on a broad reach in about 20 knots of wind with the jib alone up.  I spun the boat up into the wind.  Took advantage of the slack jib sheet to haul it in.  The jib went aback.  I tossed out the Lifesling.  It was soon towing behind.  (minor item:  i forgot we were towing a fishing line…but then that would probably happen in a real MOB situation).  I gybed the boat around, the jib filled and we sailed back past the swirl we had left in the water with our original turn.  I tried sailing upwind, jib alone, enuf to come about again, jib aback, and NOT pass downwind of our target.  This is what failed.  We not only missed our target, we ran over the Lifesling’s rope (and our fishing line), which got caught and jammed under Akimbo. 

How would i do this drill differently?  Why didn’t it work?  It didn’t work because we had no mainsail up to balance against the pressure in the jib.  The jib aback dragged us too far downwind.  Part of what i like most about this system is keeping it simple, not having to actually trim sails.  But, in this situation, the first solution i would choose would be to actually tack the jib and sail the boat (if it had been the genoa up alone, with the fairleads forward for reaching...move the fairleads aft for beating and then sheet in).  I think that would work.  The other possible answer would be to roll up or drop the headsail, make sure no lines are in the water and under the boat, start the engine and circle the person in the water with the Lifesling.  In both solutions, when the person reaches the Lifesling, drop (or furl) sail…or in solution 2, turn off the engine. 

In both situations, if you have enuf crew: 1. of course assign someone to not take their eyes off the person in the water; and 2. the original and immediate turn up into the wind keeps the boat very near that person anyway. 

Okay, there.  I’ve done my duty to write about this.  I won’t elaboarate on dropping sail, losing backstay pressure, pumping it back up, getting out the compressor, putting on a mask, setting up a belay, diving under the boat in 4 to 5 foot seas, clearing the Lifesling line (and fishing line) from the propeller in just a few minutes, putting all this away, rehoisting and getting back underway (not to mention other details).  I’m sure my crew were convinced that falling overboard is a death sentence and swore to themselves to not let it happen. 

We sailed thru another night, more and more glows from cities ashore watching us go by.  At one point i found us sailing thru a fishing fleet of seven or so boats.  I noticed a few red flashing lights in the water and guessed each was at the end of a fishing net.   We got thru them without running over a net and carried on.  One thing we found is that as the wind dropped and seas had yet to…the jib didn’t slam back and forth like the genoa would have.  Don’t know why this is the case, but we appreciated it. 

Thru the morning we chased a dying wind.  Unrolled the genoa, but soon rolled it back up and motored a few more hours.  At noon an onshore wind started up, we unrolled the genoa and sailed into Cartagena in style.  The approach is interesting.  One of the defenses constructed to stop the attacks on the city by Sir Francis Drake way back when is an underwater wall across one of the entrances.  Very effective, eh?  The wall hidden from view, an attacking and unknowing vessel sailing in only to wreck on the wall.  Now there is a narrow gap in the wall, marked by buoys, which we took advantage of (since it was daylight) and appreciated – saving us two or three hours to sail around an island and into the unobstructed south entrance. 

We muddled about in the harbor, got no replies on our vhf radio as we hailed different marinas…waved down a few people on a dock and ended up in the ritziest place in town:  a private yacht and fishing club whose facilities have expanded upon some 17th century fortifications (photo above).  Nice showers, a bartender with a great smile...and neighbors/new friends at the end of the dock, skilled boatwrights restoring a 45 year old wooden schooner...  Dumb luck.  

What are all the details in between?  I know i am forgetting to tell them.  Maybe they’ll come to me later.  Cartagena’s fortifications date from the 1600s and some of its modern architecture is lovely.  In the old town, homes and restaurants and shops front right up against the sidewalks so that they can enclose their own quiet courtyards.  Love that.  Patricia is collecting photos of the huge variety of door knockers.  The tourists here are Colombian (except for us).  This IS a charming, lively city worth visiting for a few weeks rather than a few days, much of which i’ve occupied with chores on Akimbo.

Thank you Sara, Patricia and Ryan.  Each night there was something easily missed that could have been dangerous if i were alone.  We did well, had fun, and made yet another rendezvous on time.  Welcome aboard Rima.  

The San Blas Islands are remote and will be our home for the next three weeks.  I don't expect internet access until we arrive at Shelter Bay Marina and stage for the Panama Canal.  I'll hope to post the next entry from there.  Meantime, be well and enjoy.  

From Curacao and Aruba

Again i shake my head at how much formalities require.  In Curacao…one checks in with Customs first.  Luckily Customs directs us where to find Immigration – it’s NOT intuitive.  Immigration requires that the whole crew show up.  Which is inconvenient, but, requiring exploration and discovery, gave the crew a tour of the island too.  In Aruba…only the skipper is allowed off the boat, Immigration is the first stop and in the adjacent building Customs clears us in.  Both of them on the same dock...for the traffic from nearby South America (like the floating market boats in Curacao).  Different in every country.  Nothing standard.  Part of the adventure. 

While Bonnaire boasts an open moorage that is ALWAYS in the lee of the island, Curacao has narrow openings into labyrinthine bays.  GREAT hidey holes.  Perfect anchorages for sheltering from a hurricane.  Really quite amazing natural harbors.  The one we anchored in is named Spanse Water.  It was busy with dinghies and wind surfers - plenty of wind and flat water.  A few full marinas and lots of anchored boats.  The dinghy dock was at Norman's BBQ.  Having given up on Curacao's formalities the first day we were there - really, we tried hard but had to give up - we witnessed a big domino tournament.  1000 florins ($370) the grand prize.  And we enjoyed beer and BBQ.  

The local fishing boats here look like sailboats without a mast, or with only a third of a mast, maybe for lights or a steadying sail.  Displacement, cuddy cabin, sea worthy looking tho held together in some cases with duct tape and string.  Names like "Don Macho" and "Thank You God" and...  

Wednesday, after Curacao’s formalities to clear us  out for a dawn departure, we reached four hours up the coast to a very nice and remote cove…to save ourselves two hours on Thursday.  Being lazy, we unrolled the genoa alone.  Great sailing with plenty of wind and no waves.  The wind built and built, which was what we needed for racing against the sun setting.  Tho the jib would have been the wiser choice, charging at 9.6 knots (?!), sending spray flying, was a thrill.  Nothing broke.  Still, dropping the jib and anchoring took time and we finished in the dark. 

This left us only early morning for snorkeling.  The water was very clear, worth getting’ up early for.  Underway at 8:15, and feeling duly humbled by the winds the afternoon before, we sailed under the jib alone.  Seas built to 8+ feet, and by the end of the day we averaged just over 7 knots.  No complaints here!  We tied up at the Renaissance Inn docks and toasted our two weeks and 500 miles together. 

On the way, i kept hearing a new creaking sound in the rigging.  With only the jib up, i guessed that the sound was coming from either the jib or the stay that it was attached to.  I decided to inspect the solent stay once we were tied up in a quiet harbor.  Why then?  This inspection would require going up the mast, disassembling the attachment of the stay to the mast, lowering the stay to the deck.  That done, i found strands of the stay broken where they entered the sta-lok fitting.  4 strands of 19. 

This is highly unusual.  I can only guess that we mis-handled the stay at times between rigging it and stowing it.  Anyway, the stainless cable is likely way over-engineered and would probably last all the way to Seattle.  Key word:  “probably.”  “With my luck” is generally said in a negative tone, but not for me.  I’m the luckiest guy i know, and my luck held.  The marina manager here, Zanders (sp?), is a sailor and a rigger.  And he had one right size replacement fitting…with extension on hand and for sale.  The extension allows me to make this repair without replacing the entire stay.  Whew! 

I don’t think anyone could have been more enthusiastic than Tina – can’t remember how many times she said “This is GREAT!”  She’s sailed offshore lots, but it’s always been upwind.  I wonder if she’ll ever accept anything but downwind in the future.  Jim was impressed with how little we motored, with sailing as a very real means of transport.  Jeff and Doug, in their early thirties, had sailed before but not offshore.  They were up for anything while taking their experience to a “next level.”  These four were great together.

I’m impressed with how distinct each leg and each crew is.  With how moving Akimbo safely and efficiently forward is a balancing act.  How offshore sailing is a leveler – indifferent to one’s wealth or righteousness.  How nature is an uncompromising and impersonal teacher that does not tolerate fools.  She doesn’t care who or what you are, whether you plead ignorance or exception, whether you curse or scream.  Make enuf assumptions or mistakes, or sometimes make just one, and your next lesson has really tragic potential.  I am amazed at how easily, every day and sometimes every minute, i can blow this.  Being out here, the insulation most of us have known ashore, in modern, cosmopolitan life, is stripped largely away.  I enter into a dialog, i engage with my environment – sometimes on a huge scale (i.e. celestially navigating), sometimes in minute detail (“what’s THAT sound?”).  The “real” world is eclipsed by the next puff of wind, or the size of the next wave.  I feel alive.  It’s required here.  While i remember some days that felt numb and dead and petty and mercenary.  And THAT felt required.  Do we do that to ourselves with money?  Out here, i must pay attention to more fundamental elements (is money an “element?”).  

So, another rendezvous is made.  A crew departs, another arrives.  And usually the new crew brings things.  Maybe Grape Nuts and smoked salmon.  Or replacement binoculars or parts i need.  Or a surprise – thank you Barry for the new fishing lures.  It’s like xmas around here! 

Next post…if my luck and attention hold up…should come to you from Colombia.  South America is only 14nm away.  Cartagena, 400nm.  Akimbo and i are now half-way thru the time frame of this trip.  So far?  So good.  Oh Boy!  

Grenada to Bonaire

The Grenadine islands are not far from each other.  After 7nm to Carriacou and checking thru customs at Hillsborough, we motored a mile over to Sandy Island to pick up a mooring buoy, relax away from docks and towns and people and internet, and spend the night.   It was another rollicking reach the next day, 15nm, to Ile de Ronde.  Laughing, Julie declared that the occasional 8’ swell on the way “had to be 30’ high!”   The guidebooks recommend this stop as a lunch stop only.  They warn that it can be too rolly to be comfortable overnight but we found it to be ideal.  Maybe our timing was lucky.  The holding ground was good sand in the NE corner of the island’s leeward side (rocky elsewhere), and wind and swell well blocked.  The water was very clear, the snorkeling excellent, lots of little fish there.  It was our last wilderness stop for this crew and it was worth celebrating. 

A mile and a half away was/is an underwater volcano.  “Kick ‘em Jenny” is 593’ below the surface and last erupted in 1989.  There’s an exclusion zone around her that isn’t enforced.  We decided that if the water got suddenly warmer while snorkeling, we might take that as our cue to weigh anchor and sail away from Jenny. 

I think it was enroute from Ile de Ronde that Jim hooked into a big swordfish.  I’ve never heard a reel spin off line so fast.  He managed to slow it down only long enuf to see the fish jump twice. , “DID YOU SEE THAT?”  he shouted.  I was too busy trying to slow Akimbo down so he could reel the fish in, so i didn’t see it.  Barry saw the second jump before the fish tore the last of the fishing line off the reel and disappeared.  But they both estimated the fish to be about 6’ long without its sword.  Wow!  I doubt we could have handled it if we had landed it.  But it was 15 seconds of heart racing fun. 

On to Grenada, we had a good sail tho the island is big enuf to create a wind shadow.  In one of the calm spots we finally shook the reefs out of the mainsail.  Tho it was good to see the whole sail hoisted again, it wasn’t long before we could have reefed again.  Still, we left it all the way up and trimmed it to spill whatever extra wind we didn’t want to catch. 

Once in the harbor, we found it was rung around with traffic and we were told anchoring near the new marina is prohibited.  Lucky thing, because anchoring outside the harbor off a beach was much better. 

Barry, Patrick, Julie and i dinghied in to town to explore.  Along the waterfront called the Carenage about half the storefronts looked out of business.  We were virtually the only white folks walkin’ around and were an obvious target for panhandlers.  At which point i really got tired of being ‘hit on’ for money, even by little kids.  But so it goes when inequities are so large. 

Next day was this crews last sail, 9nm round to the south side of Grenada where several inlets pierce the shore.  In this last bit of sailing we found we remembered how to beat into a stiff wind.  We tied up at the Prickyly Bay Marina and enjoyed “two for one” pizza night there.  We also met two of the next crew, Jeff and Doug. 

I arranged a half day tour for us to visit a few waterfalls the next day.  This was gold!  Our guide, Raul, shared a LOT of his knowledge of the local plants – we felt surrounded by wilderness harvests and were surprised by the agriculture taking place on wild hillsides.  Grenada is known as “the spice island.”  Raul showed us cocoa seed pods, cracked one open and we sucked on the white tangy pulp that wraps the seeds.  Nutmeg abounded.  The seeds are wrapped in thin red ribbons of mace.  Etc….  It felt great to get out for a hike in natural wonders and even better to go swimming under the waterfalls.   This is a lush place! 

Jim and Heather had been aboard Akimbo six weeks by the time they departed.  I was sad to see them go.  Years ago, Jim solo sailed his own boat from Alaska to Mexico, out to Hawaii and back.  I felt lucky to add his experience to my own, as a double check of my decisions.  He and Heather are low maintenance folks who take care of themselves.  They are understanding of others and of what a trip like this requires.  Thank you both for helpin’ me out and contributing so much here.  

Barry was next in seniority for the crew departing in Grenada.  Thank you for your spirit of fun, wakin’ us up mornings with a ‘too sexy’ dance song on the stereo.  And for assuming as many duties as i could let go of.  You were always ready. 

Julie and Patrick jumped right in 10 or so days ago and were eager crew.  Reflecting the newness of this experience, they reminded jaded me of how wondrous sailing and distant horizons are.  Thank you both. 

While in Grenada i tried to connect with a sail loft, to give the jib a “tune-up.”  But we were there over the weekend and they were closed.  We almost hung out a few extra days to take the jib in, but it looks like we could make the passage to the ABCs between a couple waves of weather.  So i’ll hope to find another loft in Bonaire or Curacao.  We’ll be ahead of schedule, so we can layover a few days somewhere for the jib’s sake.

For now, Doug, Jeff, Jim, Tina and i are on our watch schedule and on our way to Bonaire.  Wind and waves are behind us and we’re lookin’ forward.  

(three days later)  Our 400 miles went about as smoothly as they could.  We hoisted the jib alone the first day and night.  Next day we were under the genoa alone, and enjoyed flying the drifter for an hour or so.  Back to the genoa for the night, the drifter for the afternoon, and came in to Bonaire at the crack of dawn under the genoa.  The hard part of the trip was passing by Los Roques without stopping, the most beckoning of Venezuela’s offshore islands.  Cruising friends and the cruising community websites warn Americans away from Venezuela for political reasons.  Worse still when we chatted with another “yachtie” (as we are titled) who has been cruising in and out of Venezuela without a problem – but then he is a Brit. 

400 miles in 66 hours.  6 knot average speed.  Let’s hope this was a preview of the Panama to Hawaii leg.  Along the way we caught and released 3 baracuda and dined on a small tuna.  At night, our bio-luminescent wake looked like a swarm of fireflies trailing off of Akimbo.  Squalls were few and any rain they gave us was welcome.  We rotated thru our watch schedule strictly at night (so no one is on deck alone) and loosely during the day. 

Bonaire is fiercely protective of their reefs.  Anchoring is prohibited, unless a boat is too big to rely on the moorings provided (in which case the harbor master carefully directs one where to anchor).  Approaching one of the moorings, the depth went quickly from over 200 feet deep to 12.  The entire leeward coast looks like this.  All this bodes really well for snorkeling.  Look at the color change in the water just aft of Akimbo.  Imagine snorkeling from there, off her stern and floating over that edge from 12 and 20 feet deep, past the ‘cliff’ edge, and now you are floating over water hundreds of feet deep, looking back at the cliff itself, in incredibly clear water. (Kristin, THIS could be your next dive destination).

Planning:  1.  There are some squalls (“dark uglies”) coming our way this weekend.  They deserve and have our respect, but at least they are going the same direction we are.  2.  I’m in e-mail dialog with a sailmaker in Curacao (40ish miles away), but this is Friday and he doesn’t work on the weekend.  So, let’s enjoy snorkeling here today and tomorrow.  Blast to Curacao Sunday.  Tour there Monday and maybe Tuesday while the sail is tuned-up.  Long day’s sail to Aruba on Wednesday.  That gives the crew Thursday and Friday to tour before flying out on Saturday.  Sounds “good on paper” to me.

But…something feels different now.  Something foundational.  We are no longer “going south," rather we are west bound.  We are no longer sailing farther from where we are going.  Our “scenic route” is taking us closer to our destination now.  There's a ripple effect from this, some change in dimension.  We’ve turned a corner.

Busy, busy, busy

A wise man (my father) sums this up this way...
"When we go sailing, we trade the quantity of our decisions for the quality of our decisions.  At sea we have fewer decisions to make and they are more important to us..."  Sounds simple, doesn't it?  But when i get to shore, the quantity can almost overwhelm me.  Thus anchorages and places beyond the reach of the internet are much more relaxing.  Still, the internet makes the cruising life simpler in terms of managing life ashore from a distance:  i don't have to assign someone to take care of my bank account and bills and mail while i'm gone, etc...  But the thing that's worse than no connection...is a bad connection.  And lots of internet connections here are sketchy.  Can be frustrating/time consuming.

But busy i am.  So i'll have to tell you later about the Grenada and its Grenadines - which we have enjoyed thoroughly.  Sorry about this.  I'll try to catch up.

The previous crew has departed, the new crew is here and oriented, we've provisioned, i've checked out of customs and immigration...we'll anchor tonight and head for Bonaire first thing in the morning.   I'm in sailmail dialog with the next crew, tryin' to figure out our rendezvous.  The forecast is with us...  I'm hoping a sailmaker there will "tune-up" the jib for me.
Good luck to us ALL,
jon

St. Vincent's Grenadines

At the south end of St. Vincent, we picked up a mooring next to Young Island and made the acquaintance of Spiro and Jimmy.  We became THEIR customers, they are very territorial about that - for taxi rides to and from shore, for laundry, taxi rides on shore...  The local knowledge came at a cost, but they were worth it.  So...another successful rendezvous.  This one with Patrick and Julie.  And seeing Sandra off to the airport - thank you Sandra, for sharing the newness of your experience with us and being enthusiastic, flexible...all the things that made your trip a success.  Be proud.  

Maintenance continues.  New gasket on the fridge and freezer lids.

Bequia (pronounced somewhere between bek-we and bek-way).  On our approach an inflatable dinghy headed our way.  At first we tho’t it was another boatboy, but their boats are never inflatables.  Rather their boats are colorful home-made plywood and fiberglass affairs.  And this boatman was standing, wearing an inflatable lifejacket/harness and wielding a camera with a big lens.  That’s when i remembered one of the guidbooks saying not to be alarmed by his approach.  Not just his approach but his outright acrobatics – thanks to a tether from the bow of his dinghy to his harness, the overboard/kill switch wrapped around his ankle and the tiller/throttle extension on his outboard motor.  He charges toward us, spins around, levels his camera and blows a couple of tweets on a whistle each time he snaps a photo.  Then he charges around to another angle, pirouettes and snaps some more.  That evening he downloads his photos, prints one of each boat from the day, puts the print in a frame and a price list on the back of the frame.  The next morning he cruises the anchorage to deliver the sample and an encrypted memory stick.  $50 for one photo, $100 for four, $150 for a whole disk full.  We reviewed our 40 photos and passed.  But my!  Kenmore Henville is an enterprising young man. You can look him up at bequiaphtoaction.com.  What i want is a video of him in action.  Nine months a year he intercepts arriving yachts.  The other three months?  I imagine he’s creative with that too. 

Now, about standing up in an inflatable dinghy…while zipping around…it appears to be THE in thing.  The “rage.”  “Everyone” is doing it.  If you’re going to be cool, you will hose clamp a pvc tube to extend the throttle on your dinghy outboard so you can reach it while standing, you are going to steer at full speed with that throttle extension in one hand and the dinghy painter (the rope tied to the bow of the dinghy…the one you might use for towing the dinghy) stretched tight in the other hand and you will stand up.  It might even help to throw your head back, tho casually so.  This may be a little more challenging with Sea Cow’s inflatable floor (that leaks and becomes soft).  But it appears i must attempt this or be “drummed out of the corps.”  Tho i won’t attempt it without the kill switch lanyard extended too, and tied around my ankle.  For surely i will fall out while making a fool of myself.  Then again, break my sword over your knee, i’ve never been accused of being cool.  Stay tuned…THIS may be my chance. 

Nice little island, Bequia.  Seems quite a few sailors have made it their home.  Saw a sail loft, took advantage of a few chandleries.  Lucky thing.  One of the watermaker pre-filter housings burst apart.  I didn’t find a replacement globe but found complete new housings.  New electric fuel pump for the generator.  Ah, the list…and fighting chaos.  Glad to get these things done now instead of in the middle of the Pacific. 

We tied up at the one available dock.  Explored town. Provisioned a bit more and took care of the above chores.  We topped off water (without the watermaker, we were down to 60 gallons), caught up with the internet.  And enjoyed dinner at a charmingly unique restaurant there at the dock, the Devil’s Table.  It had a “pirates of the Caribbean” theme.  The chef, Ken, used to cook on various cruise ships.  And the waitresses were part of the charm too. 

During dinner, Browne, the dock master had kept an eye on Akimbo for security.  We went to bed, Barry in the cockpit until a squall at 12:30.  It must have been some time after that that someone snuck on board and stole my “treat to myself” binoculars and Patrick’s new Sperry flip-flops.  Damn!  I should have known better…  We hung out an extra day, in case my no-questions-asked reward would turn them up.  But to no avail. 

In the morning, Julie and i enjoyed a walk up to the ruin of Ft. Hamilton.  A placard there taught us that Alexander Hamilton, of Declaration of Independence days, was born in the Caribbean, on Nevis. 

Today, the 29^th, several boats set out south from Bequia.  Most boats here are heading south now, to get out of hurricane territory.  We enjoyed a rollicking great beam reach in 20-25 knot winds to Mayreau Island.  Under double reefed mainsail and the solent jib, our SOG (speed over ground) reached 8.8 knots.  It was a gorgeous day’s sail.  One to remember.  Akimbo left even a Swan 65 in her wake.  The only boat to pass her was a 70’ tourist catamaran, and even she went by slowly.  Mayreau (pronounced my-roe) has a made-for-Hollywood bay and beach.  And is only 3 miles from the Tobago Cays.  Those promise to be even nicer than this? 

Nice indeed, they are turning out to be, but really only different.  We spent the next two days snorkeling with turtles and rays and over Horseshoe Reef.  I’m spoiled, thinking some snorkeling earlier in the trip was better.  Hiked around a few of the islands here.  Watched “Pirates of the Carribean” one evening, looking for and recognizing a cameo appearance by a nearby island.  Great fun, good food and happy company. 

Interestingly, the weekend proved to be when there were fewer boats at the Cays.  Barry pointed out that the charter companies usually do their “turn around” of their boats over the weekends – the last charterer leaving and the next arriving. 

We sailed the short 4 miles to Palm Island, where there is a resort and where we were the only boat at anchor – perhaps because swells roll in there all night.  Darn.  This morning (June 2) we motored the few miles to Union Island where we will check out of St. Vincent.  We plan to sail to Carriacou next, to check into Grenadan customs.  From there?  On south.