Crossing the Mona

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The crossing from the Dominican Republic to Puerto Rico is considered one of the more difficult crossings.  Between the Equatorial current (3/4 - 1 1/2 kts), Puerto Rican Trench (second deepest "hole in the ocean") and the shoals, it can get tricky. Fellow sailors worry about this section for years in advance. Others ship their boat to avoid it. "I did it once. I don't need to do it again."  I guess I left kind of oblivious to this section of our trip. 

Again, we're following the advice in Bruce VanSant's, "The Gentleman's Guide to Passage's South" or as sailor's refer to it, "thornless". As we left the Bahamas, I started studying the VanSant book. He made it sound easy:  wait for a weather window, use this route, take advantage of the night lee (depart Samana, Dominican Republic at night.  Arrive on the coast of Puerto Rico at night).  We're always aware of the big picture but usually focus our planning the next two to three legs. Only as it got closer and I realized it would be 32 hours, our longest yet, did it start to get serious. 

To help break up this trip, I broke it down into 7 legs in my mind:  

Bahia de Samana

Punta Macao

Hourglass shoals

Big freaking Mona

Isla Desecheo

Mayaguez/Tourmaline Reef

Puerto Real! (Anchorage & customs)

The plan:  147 miles / 4.5 kts average = 33 hours.  If we depart the marina before 7:00 pm (sunset), cross the bahia after dark when the winds should be decreasing, pass Punta Macao by 8:00 am to avoid the "shock wave", turn to clear the hourglass shoals, wear my big girl panties across the Mona, be in the lee of Puerto Rico by Isla Desecheo, and turn inside the reef at Mayaguez, we'll arrive at the anchorage at 4:00 am.  2 hours to spare.  Wait for sunrise.  Easy peasy.

PocketGrib

Weather:  We're looking for a forecast of less than 15 kts (lessening SE trades, preferably clocking).  This should result in waves less than 4 ft, if we give the water a few days to lie down.  (Check out windyty.com to see how wind affects the Mona & windria.com to see the current).  We have a Sun-Mon forecast from PocketGrib and Chris Parker that look promising. CP forecast is: "Mildest E-bound DR-MonaPsg is about a 24hr opportunity to depart Mon21 evening and arrive by about Sunset Tue22 (problem Mon21 is brisk afternoon winds mainly within 90mi of CaboSamana...so if you're elsewhere then maybe travel beginning Mon21 morning is OK)."  We stick with the original plan to depart Sunday evening before sunset (navigating marina in daylight) to clear Machao by 8:00 am. We're concerned that waiting until Monday night won't get us across before the winds start to build again.  We opt for a rough ride in the beginning (when we're rested) for better weather on our arrival (when we're tired but should be in the lee).

I wasn't going to write a separate blog on this crossing. We sleep in 3 hour shifts.  We eat "road trip" food (sugar & carbs).  We sail when we can. We mostly motor sail. It's kinda rough in open water.  There are very few pics (the ocean is blue & it's dark at night).  You've read all of that.  This was just another crossing.  But as soon as we arrived a friend said, "Your longest crossing. I can't wait to read the blog!"  I ask The Captain if he wants to write it.  "It was rough.  It was smooth.  It was rough.  It got smooth.  We're tired."  (And that's why he doesn't write the blog). Dang it. I usually write or take notes as we go. I got nothing, so using my Tweets, I reconstructed our trip:

We have our despacho at 5:00 pm. Our friends from Moorahme arrive at 5:30 pm to see us off. We clear the marina by 6:30 pm. 

Sun starting to set on the Bahia

Bahia de Samana, Sunday:  First Mate is on first shift (apparently that's what First Mate means).  The Bahia is rough because we still have 15 kts of wind on the nose!  We kind of expected this from watching other boats leave. It is a (relatively) shallow bay with the trade winds off the Atlantic funneling down the bay.  We don't discuss it.  Some things are better left unsaid, but I'm thinking, if it's going to be like this, this is going to SUUUUCKKKKK.  The Captain finally says, maybe we should consider dropping anchor at Cayo Leventado Island (or Bacardi Island to the locals, because they used to film commercials there) to let the winds die down a little.   But we only have 1 hr wiggle room to be at Punta Macao by 8:00 am.  Onward.  He heads down for a nap.  Moorahme calls on the radio to see how we're doing.

We've decided to stick to the shipping channel instead of heading across the bay and even it is poorly marked.  I notice a white light up ahead that doesn't appear to be moving.  I point it out to the Captain.  He thinks it's a fishermen and we turn slightly to starboard (and off the channel).  It looks like the light is underwater?  Is it a boat?  Is someone in trouble?  The Captain decides he doesn't want to get any closer, just in case.  We don't hear any voices but he's sure he sees the hull of a fishing boat.  If they needed assistance they would wave the light.  Or it could be Nemo's submarine.  Weird.  (Shining a flashlight in the water attracts fish, we're told.  It hasn't worked for us, but we're impatient.)   Did I mention it's rough for the first 3 hours?  This is a big ass bay.  We were sleep deprived when we arrived, so I guess I don't remember that.

We pass Miches with The Captain at the helm. The genoa is unfurled.  It smooths out along the southern coast of the bay.  Motorsailing with two engines.

Tweet, Sun 23:57:  "Wooh!  Nice nap.  Winds were 20 on the nose with decent sized waves.  Down to 5 kts, decent ride, big moon.  Just past Miches.  Genoa up!"  About 2:00 am, I hear a clunk, clunk, clunk and we suddenly slow from 5 kts to 2.5 kts!  We've hit something.  I wake up the Captain, who actually had fallen asleep and didn't hear it.  We slow to idle and he can see the fishing line around the starboard engine.  Luckily, on our boat, he can reach down into the engine well and cut it off, but an attached float makes it a little more difficult.  The engine is powered back up but we're still slow.  There's more.  I can smell the fish.  A flashlight off the stern shows we are still trailing a line with floats.  It's on the rudder.  The Captain heads down the back step with a boat hook and the "extra sharp" cockpit knife that is saved for such occasions.  "Can we talk about this?"  "I have on a PFD and tether.  Here, hold the flashlight."  He cuts it loose.  We're back to 5 kts.  The Captain heads back down below.  I think about how that could have been so much worse.  And the fishermen (and his family) who's day (or week) will be ruined when he discovered his net full of fish isn't were he left it.

Punta Macao, Monday:  Tweet 5:58 am:  "Shift change!  Sunrise.  Passing Punta Macao (#thornless anchorage).  Turning for PR.  Here we go!"  I pop up from my shift as we're passing Punta Macao, a possible anchorage and the jumping off point for the hourglass shoals. As the Captain disappears below, I make the 30 degree turn.

Hourglass shoals:  The turn out puts us straight into the wind and waves.  We tack out for a better ride and more speed.  We end up making 3-4 tacks before the wind clocked around enough to turn direct for Isla Desecheo.  It's deceiving on the charts.  At 35 miles, it takes us take a couple shift changes to clear it. "We're still at the hourglass?!"

In the Mona:  We're in the middle of the Mona during the day, when the winds can be their strongest.  Sometimes it's nice to see what's around you. Sometimes it's not.  We've decided night sailing isn't so bad.  We'd rather not watch the big waves crash around us.  (Although the waves averaged 3-4 ft with the ocassional 6, but even a few small ones dumped us off the back, throwing spray as far as the top hatches.  Unusual for us.)  At some point, we shut down one engine and we're motor sailing on one.  The Captain is concerned with our fuel consumption. If we run both engines, which average 1 gal/hr/engine and we motor for 33 hours, then we'll use 66 gallons.  (It's rare that we have to motor on both engines.  Luperon to Samana comes to mind.). We have an 55 gallon tank plus 12 gallons in jerry cans.  He keeps trying to squeeze the fuel from the jerry cans into the fuel tank while I'm sitting at the helm.  The smell bothers me, so at one point, I hop up and retreat into the cabin.  As I turn around to close the door, he steps backward, trips on the jack line (a safety feature to keep us on the boat!) with the 6 gallon jerry can of fuel in his hand and at one point seems horizontal, similar to a Wile E. Coyote.  I picture all the ways this can go wrong.  Hit his head.  Break a bone.  SPILL THE FUEL!  Somehow he recovers, and smiles.  No comment.  (See Stats below for actual fuel consumption).

Tweet, Mon 11:16 am:  "The DR is a big island!  We can still see it!  (I'm grumpy because U said "sleep an extra 1/2 hr" then woke me up in 2 1/2 hrs!)"

The Mona.  It's big and blue...

Tweet:  A weather report to our friends on Moorahme, who are departing today. "Beth, Cumulus on the NE horizon @ sunrise but dissipated.  Blue skies.  Wind SE @ 10.  8-9 sec, 3 ft waves.  Bring us pizza."

Tweet, Mon 12:19 pm:  "Singing, "Hey Mona, Mona" to Billy Idol's "Monie, Monie."  This crossing is sponsored by Diet Coke & Ferrero chocolate.  (Can you tell?). 

It took me 14 hours to come up with Billy Idol.  I kept trying to sing it for The Captain so he could name the artist, but he kept saying, "That's enough of THAT."  When I finally yelled, "Billy Idol," he replied, "That's not the original artist.  He must have rerecorded it."  Dang it!  It was actually a mish-mash of two songs that I never figured out.  

Before we left, we spent the last of our peso's in the marina market which resulted in a bottle of Rum, 1 Lays Stacks, a bag of Cheetos, 4 4-packs of Ferrero Mon Cheri hazelnut chocolates and 6 bottles of Diet Coke.  "Yes, we know that is bad for us.  It's the MONA!"  

Mellow girl

Amelia the Cat:  Amelia the Cat is starting to get anxious (longer, rougher passages) so Dad gives her some medication. When I wake up, she isn't laying next to me anymore.  She is out in the cockpit with Dad!  

"It's kind of rough for her to be out here." 

"I put her back in 3 times. She keeps coming back out!"  

"Chill, Mom. It's cool."

I had hoped to listen to Justin Cronin's "The Twelve" audiobook, because the sequel is coming out soon.  However, my iphone (After several weeks, I finely got the OverDrive app to work.  OverDrive sucks, by the way) downloaded random chapters--1, 3, 6, 12.  Helpful.  So I read most of Douglas Preston & Lincoln Child's "Dance of Death".  Yes, it can be difficult to read underway, but I've found increasing the font on my Kindle AND increasing the spacing makes it easier. 

Tweet, Mon 16:37 pm:  "25 miles to Isle of Desecho & the lee of PR.  58 to Puerto Real.  Winds picked up to 10 but we're still doing good."  I got a glimpse of the island right before the sun set.  We were planning on going south of it, but in the interest of a smooth ride, I had turned a course to the north, hoping The Captain could sleep.  "You're welcome."

We get a text on the Iridium from our float plan family member.  The Iridium pings them our location every 4 hours.  "Is everything OK, this last one shows you back where you started."  Glad we pay a lot of money for that!  And that's why we don't allow more people access to this info--they would just worry needlessly when the electronics go wanky.

Tweet, Mon 19:54 pm:  "Shift change.  Full Moon.  Winds died from 16 to 8.  Ride improving.  43 miles to go."

Under the Captain's watch, the winds clocked around to the north (behind us) to 18-20 kts and we were doing 6.5+ kts after reducing the engine to idle!  THAT wasn't in the forecast.  Anxious to get to the lee past Isle of Desecheo, he lets it ride (instead of maintaining 4.5 kts that will delay our arrival at the anchorage until sunrise).

Isla Desecheo

Isla Desecheo:  Tweet, Mon 22:34 pm:  "Past Isle of Desecheo.  Lights of PR in the distance!  30 miles to go."  The Captain woke me up at Isla Desecheo because he couldn't keep his eyes open. I pop out. He disappears. No briefing. It's dark but with a full moon.  I glance around and see an island behind us. "Umm, did you see that island?  Hello?"  Snoring. (He called it the "Lost" island because it kept moving. "We were motoring toward it, but never got any closer!")

(The tweet that didn't get tweeted:  "Who ate all the cheezy poofs?!")

Tweet, Tuesday 1:06 am:  "Wrapping up night #2.  Capt doesn't sleep well underway.  Hour here & there.  He's finally out cold.  Poor thing!"

I wake the Captain up to cross over the genoa.  The wind has shifted and we're back winded.  "Let's just furl it."  Huh?  When the Captain goes to furl the genoa, it is sticking.  Not good.  He works it in & out and gets it mostly furled.  (Later, after messing with it some more, he got it loosely furled.)  

Facebook 1:12 am:  (INTERNET!). The lights of a city at night from a distance.  I've missed that.  I had a student who was a sim tech.  On his first night flight he said, "The twinkle!  That's what I'm missing!" Passing Rincon Beach, Puerto Rico.

Inside Tourmaline Reef

Approaching Mayaguez (landfall and possible anchorage):  I let him sleep 4 hrs then wake him up. "The chartplotter & iPad have different routing loaded. You need to be inside that reef up ahead. Good night." 

"Wait, what?  Where are we?  Hello?"  Snoring

At one point, I roll over and hear the engine power decrease.  The Captain peeks down and says we are near the anchorage so we are just crawling along.  I wake up again, an unknown amount of time later, and the boat is silent.  No engine.  No wind.  No anchor?!  "Captain?"  "CAPTAIN?!"  "I'm awake!  I was asleep, but now I'm awake!"  I bolt into the cockpit to see where we are.  He had shut everything down and we were drifting at 0.2 kts towards the reef 5 miles away.  "Lot's of time.  It would be sunrise before we made it out there."  Uh, huh.  My turn.

Facebook 6:00 am:  "Been sitting outside the harbor since 4:40 am waiting for sunrise.  Just watched the moon set.  Pretty!  I hope they let the US citizens back in without too much hassle :-/"

6:25 am Good morning, land!

Facebook, Tues 7:58 am.  Anchored. We did it. We crossed the Mona. A little rough when the wind got above 10 kts. We saw one other sailboat headed north and only two AIS targets. Lonely out there. Fishermen gave us big waves as we entered the harbor. That was nice. Coffee and brownies while we wait for Customs to return our call. We're a little punch drunk. Probably shouldn't be operating heavy machinery!  Guess we'll crash later.

Our longest and first 2-nighter. Things get interesting after 24 hrs.  Two punch drunk people driving their house.  The FAA wouldn't approve.  The whole trip is a blur, seeming like one really LONG night.  We still don't know what day it is.  We lost one in there somewhere.

After anchoring, breakfast, naps & customs, I head out on deck to see what The Captain found with the roller furler.  Our spare halyard got snagged on the top of the furler & was cut mostly through--and was still caught.  He was in the middle of a) contemplating how to get it down & b) trying to figure out how to attach a line to it, to make running the new halyard easier.  I was contemplating going up the mast (which we need to do anyway, because our anchor light is out).  While explaining all this to me, he turned away and the halyard severed, brushing by me as it landed at my feet.  "Got it!"  Huh?

Working on boats in exotic places.  PUERTO RICO!

Stats:  Total time 35.1, average speed 4.5 kts, total mileage 152.8.  1/4 of trip motored on 2 engines, 1/4 motor-sailed 2-engine & genoa, 1/2 motor-sail 1 engine & genoa.  Fuel burn 20 gallons!

Life in Luperon

The basics necessities in Luperon

As we near our uno-year anniversary, I have been working away from sharing a play-by-play of what our dias are like.  However, Luperon was such a change from our previous stops I will do it one more time.  I am disappointed with the quantity and quality of my fotos.  Apparently, we were too busy soaking up the atmosphere, looking up Spanish words in the dictionary and eating out.  The motorcycles and dogs of Luperon should have their own foto essays.  Get out your Spanish dictionary--we're becoming fluent in Spanglish. 

A typical Luperon motocicleta

We saw this moto all over town

A little different style of Luperon moto

El Capitan is fascinated by the primary mode of transportation--motorcycles.  "I had a motorcycle like that when I was a teenager!"  We've seen elderly couples with the wife riding side saddle, kids, three people on one, mothers and toddlers, people carrying a case of El Presidente or a 5 gal jug of aqua in their lap, and one guy had an outboard laying across the back--not strapped down!  When there is a near miss at the intersection (no stop light or stop sign), they laugh and wave to each other. Throw in some horses and SUV's and you've got a traffic jam. We can't help but chuckle & shake our heads.  (We highly recommend a restaurant near the intersection in town--Robert's or de la France.)

A walk over to the beach on the Atlantic side, overlooking the harbor entrance

Dia dos:  We catch the cruisers net on 72 at 8:00 am.  There is a forecast high 87 with UV 8-10 this week!  Wow.  You don't want to be out in the afternoon sun.  They report 600 boats passed through in 2004, the last statistics they have. We head to the marina and meet Veronique at the swap meet.  She answers our wifi, water and laundry questions and points us towards a residential area for a walk.  We find the abandoned Playa Hotel Luperon (huge and sad!) and end up on a dirt road with free range cows.  We follow it to the end hoping to find the playa and are rewarded with a beach front park with a bar.  We retrace our steps back to the marina and stop for lunch.  Our waitress speaks un poco Ingles, so we get out our Spanish for Cruisers book and start practicing our Spanglish.  She appreciates the gesture and she smiles and answers in tentative English.  (I finally get to use "Donde esta el bano?")  The locals are patient with calculating the exchange rate for our US dollars.  Luckily, their dialect seems more of the "casual" Spanish.  "Hola" is an appropriate greeting.  We head back to el barco for our siesta (seriously, LOVE it here) and Papo stops by to check on us--we hand over our 2 fuel jerry cans and request water (Veronique said it is 40 pesos at the store or 50 if Papo delivers--$1.  40 cents to deliver!)  We haven't found the grocery store yet, but who needs groceries when 2 people can eat out--2 rounds, BBQ special with rice & flan for dessert for $20. 

Cattle grazing near the beach

Dia tres:  Slept like a baby again.  The water is flat calm in the harbor and with a slight evening breeze off the mountains.  Its's Monday so we head out to find the wifi office and the bank to exchange some pesos (Luperon is all cash--no credit cards accepted anywhere).  El Capitan and I compete to see who can communicate with the locals.

El Presidente y Ron Fruitas

Dia cuatro:  We head in to Wendy's to meet Kelly Nicole and the Ag agent at 2:00 pm for her birthday beer.  We meet several members of her familia before we end up going to dinner with her and her husband at Putula's Restaurant (possibly our best & cheapest meal yet).  As usual, the resident perro, a tiny chihuahua named Chiquita, befriends El Capitan.  If you ignore her, she will bit your toes.  No bueno en flip flops.

This dog lives across from Wendy's & guards his territory from above

This little guy is named Buttercup & loves El Capitan.  One day he met us at the dock and followed us around town all day.  Here, he appeared under my chair at Wendy's.

This is Chiquita from Putula's.  The toe biter.  Why do they all love laying on my backpack?

Dia cinco:  We decide to share a rental car with Kelly Nicole so we can run into Puerto Plata to do some provisioning.  Papo comes by the boat and tosses the keys to The Captain.  No paperwork, no map, no walk around.  "Call me on the radio when you get back.  It's the black SUV on the dock." We guess it's actually Papo's car which is confirmed when everyone waves as we head through town. It's an hour drive through winding country roads dodging motorcycles, horses, dogs and the occasional car.  Everyone rides the center line apparently to dodge potholes.  We only saw two street signs on the way out and one on the way back. 

Puerto Plata is crazy.  Motorcycles are passing on the left and right and sometimes driving on the wrong side of the road.  They use them as moto taxis.  People walk out of the grocery store with groceries and hop on the back of a waiting motorcycle!  After a quick stop at both groceries for reconnaissance, we park on the Malcon along the beach and start looking for restaurants.  Suddenly, one of the guards from the government dock appears before us--he lives in Puerto Plata!  He walks us down to his favorite restaurant, joins us for a cerveza, then takes the men to the Dominican cigar factory while the "women go shop".  

Too tired to do the cable car or drive by the waterfalls, we head back towards Luperon.  We get almost no pictures on the burros grazing on the side of the road or the cattle blocking the road, but we when we hang a camera out to snap a young man on horseback, he smiles and waves!  Suddenly, we're back in Luperon and everyone is waving. I much prefer it aqui. 

The government dinghy dock needs a little work.  Luckily, this is low tide!

The local fishing boats

Dia seis:  Papo delivers 7-5 gal bottles of aqua.  We discovered a tear in our genoa on the way in, so we head into town to buy some sail cloth and successfully communicate with the local sailmaker.  (I guess our pleasantries were passable because we got a handshake after our greeting.  A good sign.)  We rush back to dump in the water, then I drag El Capitan back for one more meal at La Galeria. The owner waits on us this time and again we practice our Spanish while he practices his English. He patiently teaches El Capitan to say plantana for verde banana (he already knows frita!). We get a complimentary appetizer, complimentary drinks, and have some wonderful coconut ice cream with pineapple preserves for dessert. 

We spend the evening discussing our routing.  We are only supposed to stop at "designated" anchorages but the only one between Luperon and Samana is Puerto Plata, which is not  recommended because of commercial traffic.  All the stops recommended in #Thornless are "unofficial".  Our despacho clears us directly to Samana and will require explaining to any officials that show up at the boat that we are just "stopping temporarily to rest." Definitely skipping Soshua.  Possibly Rio San Juan.  Maybe Escondido.  (Kelly Nicole is contemplating all the way to Puerto Rico.  We won't be doing that.)   

We fell in love with Luperon.  It is a beautiful Caribbean island with a hispanic culture, soil and lush green foliage, abundant cattle, fresh produce and very happy people. Oh, and the food!  We love seafood but lobster and conch, all meals actually, were expensive in the Bahamas. And why go to the store, cook, and do dishes when you can have a leisurely lunch on the patio (the big meal of the day) for $20/2 people then retire for a seista?  The beautiful harbor--no, it's not the clear blue, sandy harbors of the Bahamas where you can hop in for a quick swim when it gets warm, but the mountains provide protection and beautiful sunrises and sunsets. We slept like the dead here, probably the calm water and cool breezes off the mountain. Yes, the still air meant bugs but only for a little while in the morning and evening.  I finally got to dust of my 4 years of Spanish lessons, but the Captain was just as eager to communicate ("Hey, you used a new word!  What does that mean?!").  We reluctantly plan our departure, knowing we will spend some more time in Samana and can always head farther down the east coast. When can still practice our Spanish in Puerto Rico, at the Wal Mart!  

We will definitely be back to the Luperon. 

Our crossing from T&C to Dominican Republic

Our buddy boat, Kelly Nicole

      There's so much to share about our trip to the Dominican, that I'm breaking it into segments.  Part II will be about our week in Luperon.  Possibly another post about the cost of things in the DR.  Stay tuned.

South Caicos to Luperon:  We're up too early and eager to go. We lost a day yesterday, so we're skipping Big Sand and going direct Luperon--100 miles. 24 hours. If we leave too early, we'll arrive at Luperon's tricky entrance before daylight. The group of sailboats ahead of us are posting positive experiences in the DR, so we're getting excited. 

I send a message over to Kelly Nicole that we're leaving at 8:00 am. As I motor off the anchor, I see what looks like a waterspout outside the harbor.  We creep forward until is dissipates and make the turn as Kelly Nicole raises anchor & hoists the main. We have 3 kts of current coming into the mouth at the tidal rage. They clear the harbour 0.4 behind us, but quickly pull ahead and unfurl their jib. They ride next to us for the first hour with winds SE @ 12--not good. We're waiting for a wind shift. We unfurl the genoa, turn 10 right, and shut the starboard engine off.  We're making 4-4.5 kts with 1-2 ft swells on the nose. 

By 9:30 am we have Big Ambergris in sight. The wind has slowly started to shift E allowing a turn 10 degrees back left. After two tacks east, we still end up just off Whale Breaker on a 190 COG (course over ground) at 3:00 pm. (On this heading we may miss Haiti!  No bueno.) The wind lessens to 7-9 kts, but never enough to furl the genoa and turn back towards our course line. Kelly Nicole tacks, we tack, we pass them, they pass us. 

The electric blue Atlantic Ocean

I head down below for a nap at 5:00 pm, as we are slowly turning back towards Luperon.  I'm awoken by Amelia staring at me from the table. She wants her water cup, which she immediately tries to knock over.  I make new blend of English breakfast tea & ginger tea with sugar as I head out for my shift. By 8:00 pm, we are back on a 160 course, Kelly Nicole 2.5 miles ahead with 14 kts off our beam.  Amelia wakes up Daddy & successfully dumps the water on the guidebook. She loves overnights. There's always somebody in the salon to cuddle with and give her snacks. 

By 2:00 am, the wind is still 15 kts off our beam instead of dying as forecast. That's good.  However, the sea is like a curvy, hilly country road with railroad tracks, potholes and rumble strips. Gheez. Hard to sleep. The Captain describes it as someone banging on the bridge deck with a hammer. There's a cargo ship coming up behind us. By 3:00 am, the wind has shifted back SE. I spot a red light in front of Kelly Nicole. Is that traffic or land?  We turn back to starboard for a wind shift. At 4:30 am, a 1000-ft passenger ship appears on the AIS.  I'm awake!  And this is what we do all night.

The Captain waiting for the sunrise

Following Kelly Nicole into the Luperon harbor

As the sun creeps above the horizon, The Captain starts to see the mountains of Hispanola. I pop out about 6:00 am and can clearly see the mountain range of the Dominican. I wasn't able to get a good photo. It reminded me of the Smoky Mountains except it was different shades of pink & purple. The harbor entrance is difficult to pick out, and the island, much bigger than the other's we've visited makes it feel like forever to motor the last 5 miles. With Kelly Nicole on point, we try to make sense of the channel markers, ultimately ignoring them and following our chart plotter (does that mark the channel?  Where's the other marker?  Or is it marking the shoal? The first set of markers weren't on either chart and the second one, appeared orange instead of red, probably marking the shoal of our port side.). A fisherman ducks between us and drops a fishing net.  Really?  As we round the first corner we see a huge clump of boats. "Uh, oh. Is it that busy here?"  There's no backup anchorage!  No, that's just the outer portion of the harbor. Then the harbor opens up in front of us and is packed!  It's been a month since we left the busy anchorage in Georgetown.  Culture shock.  We creep along behind KN, eyeing a few possibilities and looking for a spot to turn around when a small runabout approaches Kelly Nicole. He seems to point out a spot to them, so we wait. Papo approaches us and says, "Mooring?  $2/day?"  The Captain says, "Sure."  Wait a minute. We don't know how they're secured?  Could be a cement bucket?  "I'm tired and I don't want to clean our chain. We'll consider moving tomorrow."  Papo leads us to a mooring and hands the line up (At some point, I realize this is my first time at the helm while picking up a mooring!  It doesn't matter, though, we're creeping along so slowly that we'll glide to a stop well before we reach the mangroves and could only "love tap" another boat). He asks if we need a Dominican flag for $10! YES!  He's won me over. We left woefully unprepared on the courtesy flag front, hoping to pick them up as we go. Papo heads back to Kelly Nicole, who is pointing over our way, "Hey, they got a mooring?!"  They have a manual windlass and muddy anchor--but are soon headed to the mooring next to us. Hey, neighbor!

We're here!

We straighten up the boat and Papo returns with a young customs officer in his Navy dress whites and his armed guard (who looks 14, but with a holstered 9-mm beretta).  He comes straight into the salon & sits down. The Comandante speaks good English with a heavy accent.  "I was at church and today is our Independence Day."  He welcomes us to his country, takes some pictures of our passports and points us into town to complete Immigracion. We head over and tie up next to the other dinghies at the half sunk dock and head in. It's supposed to be a 5 min walk, so we walk right past the offices at the gate and end up finding Wendy's, a cruiser bar with wifi, where they point us back to the gate. Immigration speaks little English and we pay $90 (overtime?) and are advised to finish up with the harbor master, tourist cards and Agriculture on Monday. Kelly Nicole catches up and we back head back to Wendy's, where the el Presidente comes in 24 oz for 125 pesos/$2.85. There is a gato that has her own bar stool and The Captain ends up with an adorable perro under his chair. They point us onto de la France for lunch. 

On the way back, we meet the oficial who provides our Tourist Card ($10 each) and who speaks excellent English ("You understand my English?"  Si. Big smile). The Captain is asleep as soon as he hits the couch. 

Hangin with the locals in S Caicos

Our pet tire (an old mooring).  Where, oh where is the tire today?

Sunset over the town of Cockburn Harbour, S Caicos

I sleep until almost 6:30 am. As the sun rises, the sky and the water appear as one. The wind has gone calm so we're hovering over our anchor and an old tire (an old mooring) appears off our stern.  At 8:00, the locals head out in small boats to go fishing (we're in the lobster and conch preserve). We head in at 9:00 am for a walk and meet Patrick from the other anchored sailboat and help him carry his jerry cans over to the marina. He loves it here despite "there's nothing here."  We hear that a lot but if there is a store, a bar and wifi, we're happy. Pavlidis makes it sound like a bustling little community, but we only find one store open--the grocery at the marina. The locals seem friendly, but everything seems locked up. Where is everyone?  It's a surprisingly peaceful anchorage after Sapodilla. Kelly Nicole swings by to say they didn't find much happening in town either and depart when they see Patrick stopping by their boat.  At 2:30, we head back in. We grab internet at the market then get directions to Ocean View Resort, in hopes of snagging a wifi password.  We get lost on the "5-10 min walk", but they do have nice paved roads here. We should bring our bicycles in. We see people from the resort riding bicycles into town. We spot some (wild!) Flamingoes out in the salt flats and find the horse thats leaving treats on the road. No wifi at the resort, but we did snag a great lobster salad. When we get back, a local meets us at the dinghy dock and invites us to the new bar that just opened. "Tomorrow."  The winds start to kick up to 20 kts out of the NE around 7:00 pm, but we're tucked in close to the island and are nicely sheltered. It's howling through the hatches but comfortable on the boat. At least it's cooled down.

The salt pond.  There are flamingos out there-I swear!

H blew out another flip flop.  Stepped on a pop top

The wind lightens and switches to east in the morning. A lazy day on the boat reading. I dig out our Spanish for Cruisers and start practicing. We are down to half on our main water tank (+2 jerry cans so 35/9=4 gal/day) after 10 days with 20- gal aux as back up. Back to town for internet (our biggest complaint is lack of internet at the boat and I regret not trying harder to buy a sim card while in Provo. When the cafe gets internet, at least we won't have to stand in the grocery store).  Gucci, the local greeter, meets us at the dock, ties off our dinghy and invites us to the cafe. "The restaurant is open?!"  We love a spot to people watch, mingle with the locals and GET OFF THE BOAT for awhile.  A restaurant is perfect, but every inhabited island at least has a bar. 

This rusty old fishing boat is my muse.  The sunrise and color of the water are breathtaking, but despite numerous pictures with all three cameras, I can't capture my view from the cockpit.  Sad.

We see a weather window coming, so we head into town to have another "strategy meeting" with Kelly Nicole and end up having lunch with sv Briet (Halberg Rassey 34), an Australian single-handing and also pilot (originally from Holland who used to fly for KLM & just got his seaplane rating).  He has a cracked cyclinder head, and has been waiting 2 weeks for a part from Europe. He's sailed around the world--over 40,000 miles over 14 years and he can tell some stories. We should have been taking notes!. He told us about almost being shot while fighting a 50-kt current in the Red Sea ("Don't go there.") and surviving the tsunami in Thailand while on an ARC Rally:  "It seemed like low tide, and I was considering shortening my anchor scope. When I looked back, there was a 20 ft wall of water heading into the harbor. It knocked my boat on it's side but the anchor held.  There were a couple more waves and most people drug."  Yes, we asked.  It was a Manson anchor!  Got it!  He is headed to Palm Beach, FL to ship his boat back home. "I'm done. I'm going home to fly seaplanes." (He bought a Sea Ray kit). We end up staying at the bar with Kelly Nicole until 6:30 pm--three waiters/waitresses later...

Internet "cafe".  It ain't Starbucks--it's the marina market.

The boys head in to clear out.  Apparently, the locals take turns greeting us at the dock and after tying up, he flags down Immigration in the market parking lot. We head in to catch some internet and do some more downloads (charts, kindle books, FB).  The boys head over to the other dock for Customs, who tells them to come back at 3. I was going to duck outside, but end up chatting with fellow cruisers then a local who explains the local fishing boats are American boats, stripped to a bar frame to save weight, then fiberglassed with big engines. We discuss the positive and negative of the new resort on the island, the students from the College of Field Studies and the future for their children, He also explains that our young waiters/waitresses seem bashful because they are reserved and many have an inferiority complex.  Interesting insight.

Anchored off Admiral's Aquarium

The forecast for today wasn't ideal, but we were hoping to knock out 24 miles (and cross the trench) to stage for Luperon. However, both boats decide to abort for calmer winds and less seas tomorrow (it would have been a rolly anchorage also). The winds switch to SE, sending waves right into mouth of harbour,  so we move to over to the anchorage next to Admiral's Aquarium, where we are sheltered by Long Cay. We finally get in a snorkel and see sand dollars, a scrawled tilefish that changed from blue/green to white when he saw us, a sand tilefish disappearing into his burrow, sea urchins, heart urchins and a sea cucumber.

We wake up to 20 kt winds. We delay, hoping the winds will decrease in time for the "short hop" to Big Sand Cay. We could leave as late as 1:00 pm (or even later if we anchored after dark), but eventually decide to sit tight, and go straight through to Luperon tomorrow. If we don't leave first thing, we lose motivation, so we sink into a leisurely routine. Reading, naps. Laundry is vetoed until we get more water. My afternoon swim turns into a bottom scrub with 3 baby rays to keep me company. (I get a glimpse of Mama the next morning. Huge--3 ft across!)

Total:  8 loonnnnngggg days