I have been reading Captain Cook’s journals of his first circumnavigation around the world. Not long into his voyage somewhere between Plymouth and Madeira, on Friday 16th September 1768, he casually records in his journal “The most part fine, clear weather. Punished Henry Stevens, Seaman and Thomas Dunster, Marine with 12 lashes each for refusing to take their allowance of Fresh Beef.” I can’t help but ponder that if we all had to receive 12 lashes every time we refused our allowance of Fresh Beef, we would no longer be troubled by vegans and vegetarians.
Its been three weeks since Lucy piloted you into azure waters of Grenada and Broadsword is now sitting in Aruba, a little frustrated as we desperately want to crack onto the San Blas Islands off Panama However, the Caribbean Sea is a frothy turmoil with high winds and steep seas, worse than Biscay on a bad day, and prudence requires our patience to sit here and allow the gales to abate. We have been here for eight days and the earliest prospect for weighing anchor is Friday, four days hence. With time on my hands, here is a good opportunity to bring the blog up to date.
Grenada to Bonaire
Broadsword at anchor
The headline news here, is that our friend Matthew was due to fly out and meet us in Grenada on Sat 22nd. As we sailed into Port Louis Marina in Grenada and got a signal, our phones vibrated into life with a gazillion whatsapp messages saying, in short, that his PCR test results did not come through in time, he could not get the flight and the trip was all off. Blimey, what a shocker. Surely, we could salvage a plan B? Indeed we could, Matthew, at not an inconsiderate additional expense to himself, would fly to Bonaire and meet us there on Thursday, five days hence. Lucy and I had a lovely dinner with ARC friends Nick and Michelle (Maalu IV) and the next day, having waited all day for our PCR tests to come through, eventually cast of in the late afternoon, giving us just enough time hoist sail and set course before sunset.
Knowing your code flags is an important skill for quick and lucid communication
We had a glorious four-day sail, just the two of us in blissful peace enjoying moderate trade wind sailing. Venuzuela was to our south and we had desperately wanted to revisit the Isla Los Roques, a sublime archipelago of coral reefs and turquoise blue lagoons that Lucy and I went to for our honey money 29 years ago. Sadly, Chavez successfully bequeathed a screwed up run down economy that’s left a fine country’s people desperate and resorting to crime and mass migration. Our insurance policy precluded Venuzuela and all her idyllic islands. We passed the islands to our south with a heavy heart.
Oil rigs off the coast of Venezuela, as seen through the binos
Bonaire is one of three islands that form the Dutch Antillies, AKA the ABC Islands, the other two being Curaçao and Aruba. The entire coast line of Bonaire is a protected underwater nature reserve and its easy to see why. The water is crystal clear and there are more fish per cubic meter of water than the entire Billingsgate fish market on a Monday morning. This is where we would do our PADI open water course. But first we had to finish our e-learning theory and pass the exam scoring no less than 75% . Our friends who were with us at Glenalmond and St Leotards respectively, will remember that Lucy and I were not the sharpest tools in the box and the prospect of having to sit and pass an exam, nearly 40 years since the last exam we ever both took, made us as anxious as a pig in an abattoir. Mercifully it was multiple choice and designed for those one slice short of a loaf and as the slightly wittier blunt tool in the box, we sailed through with 98% a piece.
Meanwhile, Matthew flew in to join us and it was truly great that he made it after the false start. We’d given him a shopping list of luxuries to bring and he duly obliged with Melfort Marmalade, a catering tin of Milecano coffee and of course Scottish Blend T Bags which for some obscure reason, you just cant get outside Scotland.
One of many happy meals at Karels Beach Bar in Bonair with Matthew
The PADI course started on Monday in a tiny swimming pool that will forever be remembered for the floating jobbies. Lucy got it in her head that these were child poos and was incredulous that the “management” could not be bothered to pick them out leaving them for us to suck into our snorkels. Her irritation could not be contained and started a vociferous complaint and without drawing breath, prevented the perplexed diving instructor to get a word in edgeways. Eventually, Lucy ran out of expletives and the very nice instructor Guus (pronounced goose), calmly said he was very sorry but they were Iguana Poos who preferred to do floaters. Tuesday we progressed to the sea and all sorts of complex drills had to be perfected such as taking your mask off 10m down, swimming blind, then putting it back on and getting rid of the water. Thanks to Lucy’s brothers Michael and Richard who used to delight in torturing their seven year old sister by putting her into the bottom of a sleeping bag not let her out for three hours, suffers from extreme claustrophobia and hyperventilates at any confined space smaller than the millennium dome. Just being underwater was a significant test of her resolve but to do all these pant filling exercises was beyond the pale. There was more of the same on Wednesday and poor Lucy was tittering on the edge with bottom lip wobbles. But I got to tell you, she pulled through and slam dunked it and I’m proud as punch of her.
You know you've caught a whopper when you need a suitcase trolley to move it.
During the course we had Watt & Sea hydro generator installed on our transom. We already have solar pannels and a wind turbine but during our Atlantic crossing were finding that we had to run the generator for three or more hours a day to keep the batteries topped up. This hydro generator will deliver an average of ten amp hours or over 24 hours provide 240 amp hours. Combined with wind and solar it should make us self sufficient on passage and only need to turn the generator on for the water maker or the washing machine.
On Friday 4th February, we left for Curaçao, the 45 nm taking around seven hours. We arrived in Spannish water and dropped anchor alongside our new friends, met in Bonair, Annette and Andres (Horizon). Swedes who emigrated to the USA about ten years ago and live in Bolder, Colorado and are also sailing around the world. We were in the “quarantine” zone and had to wait for The Coast Guard to come and check our vaccination certificates and PCR tests before taking a step further. The highlight of our two day Curaçao visit was listening live to the Calcuttu Cup on Matthews phone as we walked for 45 minutes in the blazing mid day heat for yet another PCR test, number six this year and counting.
Some lovely Hispanic wall art in the streets of Wiliamstad in Curacao
On Sunday 6th at 1800, we left Curacao and there was not a wet eye in the house. Ahead; twelve hours of sailing and a good chance for Matthew to experience a night passage for the first time. I had planned to arrive in Aruba at first light but such were my extraordinary sailing skills, we arrived early and it was still dark. You DO NOT want to go into Aruba in the dark. It’s a very narrow contorted channel with instructions like “turn to port after the wreck”. So like a 777 over Heathrow on Friday night rush hour, we went into a holding pattern and waited for our moment. Then the usual dance with customs, immigration and port authority, all three demanding their pound of bureaucratic flesh recorded with customary lengthy hand writen forms, duplicated in triplicate with inky carbon paper and authenticated with the loud THWACK of the rubber stamp. Then the inspection on board by three armed non smiling, not amused customs officers who you do your best to charm with smiles and polite conversation but their personality armor has no chinks and the pleasantries are to no avail.
Matthew left after two weeks on board. We thoroughly enjoyed his visit but he needs to work on his music, the folky shyte had to be limited to an absolute maximum of 90 seconds a day. We had a lot of nice meals out and Matthew delighted us with his is culinary wizardry on board. I always marvel at someone who can glance at the contents of a fridge and rustle up a TV show stopper. I can hear Lloyd Grossman drone “And in the blue kitchen, Matthew from Melfort has created and absolutely delightful concoction with nothing more than some mouldy cottage cheese and a tin of spam”.
Today is Valentines Day. Lucy and I celebrated with an exchange of T Shirts and then off for our first dive after our PADI course. Dive One: I found myself occupying the pages of Peter Benchley’s “The Deep” finding a gi-normous green moray eel. It was huge, its head the size of loaf of bread and regardless of the treasure it was guarding, there was no fecking way I was putting my hand anywhere near it. Dive Two: Did not disappoint either, this time eye to eye with a two meter Nurse Shark, apparently nocturnal thus concluding this one was happily siesta-ing, but again, a healthy respect required. Lucy is now Jacqueline Coustou, at one in her new watery habitat, but did not quite get all the anti fog out of her goggles which proceeded to bubble up resulting in a confusing kaleidoscopic view of the deep blue.
We have four more days in Aruba before we think we can leave for San Blas and the Panama where Lucy will pick up the journey. Thank you for reading!
Post Script
When we arrived in St Lucia, one of our neighboring boats had an American crew and a peculiar flag. It had a Union Jack in the top quarter with red, white and blue horizontal stripes. I had to find out what was going on. Well, the skipper told me, when Captain Cook visited Hawaii he was murdered. The king was horrified that his people had killed such a famous English explorer and by way of apology and as a mark of respect adopted the Union Jack as part of their national flag, now the Hawaii state flag. Despite all the lashings Cook administered, and because of his fastidious attention to fresh food and sanitation, his crew uniquely never caught scurvy and he commanded unqualified respect and affection from all who sailed with him. The lesson? Vegetarians and vegans must be lashed.
When you say “You swapped T-shirts “ on Valentine’s Day. Is this an annual mating ritual????
John, you are in danger of unearthing a closet writer with this stuff, excellent as usual and with some top photos to boot.The last one of Jacqueline is a peach
Loads of love to you both xxx