I've been having trouble with this website so I have changed to a different blog. You can find it hy clicking here.
Or this is the address:
http://web.mac.com/tom_buchanan/Nothing_Half_So_Much_Worth_Doing
(Don't forget to bookmark it for next time!)
Saturday, February 16, 2008
Wednesday, February 13, 2008
Isla Grande, Los Testigos 11°22’87N, 063°08.11W
Los Testigos are remote. They’re around 75nm from the Venezuelan mainland. There is no port and no airport, so the only way to get here is by boat. It feels a very long way from anywhere. Only around 130 people live in the archipelago which consists of around 6 islands. We are anchored of Isla Grande in front of a small beach. The beach has a little fishing shack on it, and you can see where the fishermen have lit fires and cooked simple meals when it rains, and behind it is a beautiful little shrine with plastic flowers and melted candles. When it rains, it really rains: we have had two torrential downpours today; short lived but a spectacular amount of water. I’m always happy when this happens; not only does it make the most soothing sound below decks, but it also washes all the salt off the boat.
We had a good, long sleep (12 hours!). This afternoon I went for a walk on the island and took some photos. It’s covered in cactus, and a number found there way into my legs. The spines were so long they hit my feet after passing through my shoes! There are a few goats on the island but it’s otherwise very barren. One side has a huge, angry surf break, but the leeward side, where we have dropped our hook, is pretty calm.
Greg and I are learning Spanish from some CD’s that he bought in Trinidad. We’re up to lesson three, so we’re pretty fluent. I saw a local fishing boat tucked into a cove so I went over in the dinghy and gave them a solid ‘Hola! Como estas? Intienda ingles?’
They looked at me blankly. I guess they don’t speak Spanish, or perhaps they’re only up to lesson two.
Still, with international sign language they explained they were hand-lining with live bait. Far from being pirates they were friendly and engaging (although I swear one couldn’t take his eyes of my outboard) and we had a good chat in hand-span-glish. After a while I said adios and prepared to leave. One said something to guy who was obviously the captain and he nodded. He then dived into the hold and pulled out three fish, and gave them to me. Gracias! I went back to the boat and got them all a cold Heineken; I think they thought I was all right (for a gringo) after that. The sun is just setting, and they just steamed past, heading out past the islands for another nights fishing.
I am covered in scales from cleaning the fish; Greg has made a great marinade and the barbie is heating up (my American spell checker keeps wanting to capitalize Barbie, and it puts a ‘z’ in capitalise without me asking). We plan to leave for La Blanquilla at 0100 which should see us there by 1600 tomorrow, the 14th. It’s my mum’s birthday! Happy birthday mum!
13 Feb 2008
We had a good, long sleep (12 hours!). This afternoon I went for a walk on the island and took some photos. It’s covered in cactus, and a number found there way into my legs. The spines were so long they hit my feet after passing through my shoes! There are a few goats on the island but it’s otherwise very barren. One side has a huge, angry surf break, but the leeward side, where we have dropped our hook, is pretty calm.
Greg and I are learning Spanish from some CD’s that he bought in Trinidad. We’re up to lesson three, so we’re pretty fluent. I saw a local fishing boat tucked into a cove so I went over in the dinghy and gave them a solid ‘Hola! Como estas? Intienda ingles?’
They looked at me blankly. I guess they don’t speak Spanish, or perhaps they’re only up to lesson two.
Still, with international sign language they explained they were hand-lining with live bait. Far from being pirates they were friendly and engaging (although I swear one couldn’t take his eyes of my outboard) and we had a good chat in hand-span-glish. After a while I said adios and prepared to leave. One said something to guy who was obviously the captain and he nodded. He then dived into the hold and pulled out three fish, and gave them to me. Gracias! I went back to the boat and got them all a cold Heineken; I think they thought I was all right (for a gringo) after that. The sun is just setting, and they just steamed past, heading out past the islands for another nights fishing.
I am covered in scales from cleaning the fish; Greg has made a great marinade and the barbie is heating up (my American spell checker keeps wanting to capitalize Barbie, and it puts a ‘z’ in capitalise without me asking). We plan to leave for La Blanquilla at 0100 which should see us there by 1600 tomorrow, the 14th. It’s my mum’s birthday! Happy birthday mum!
13 Feb 2008
Tuesday, February 12, 2008
En route to Los Testigos
In the pitch dark at 0300 this morning we lifted our anchor, turned on our navigation lights and motored out of Chaguaramas Bay, Trinidad, against an incoming tide that flowed towards us like a swirling green river. This is a complex boat, and it takes a while for us to get fully set up for a blue-water passage, so we had the autopilot steering as we set up the sheets, took off the sailcover, and set up our harnesses and tethers. It was very, very dark and I was trying to get my nightvision tuned in, but inevitably at this stage of a journey we use our headlamps quite a bit while we get things set up, so it's a bit difficult to see much beyond the red and green glow from the nav lights illuminating the water off the bow.
While we were pretty confident, but careful, in Chaguaramas, we're very conscious that we're sailing into one of the world's simmering piracy hotspots: Venezuela. Indeed, from our anchorage it's only a 12nm shot to the Promontorio De Paria on Venezuela's east coast. There's been a lot of talk about Venezuela amongst the yachties we've been with because of the number of recent problems - mainly robberies against yachts - but some assaults, and armed robberies. And it seems that more recently things have really taken a turn for the worse. This is from the Isla De Margarita section of the blue-water cruiser's website Noonsite:
A report from the International Maritime Bureau has detailed another Venezuelan attack on a yacht in Bahia De Robledal, Isla De Margarita, in January 2008.
Five armed men boarded the yacht, assaulting the crew and demanding all their property. One crew member was shot and injured. The incident was reported to local authorities.
There have been several attacks on yachts in Robledal Bay in the last few years and yachts wishing to visit Isla de Margarita are strongly advised to stop at Porlamar only which is more frequented by yachts. Yachts should be vigilant at all times, especially at night, and take extra precautions.
'Extra precautions' for many yachts means cruising in a convoy. Others set up radio 'scheds' so they can check on each other using high-frequency radio bands that are unlikely to be accessible to pirates, and many others simply don't sail in Venezuela. Greg, in a perhaps uniquely American approach, wants to arm us with fully-automatic assault rifles so we can 'light em up' if we get any trouble. I can just imagine him on the bow, shoe polish covering his face and bandana wrapped around his forehead, machine gun blazing into the darkness and shell cartridges bouncing all over the deck ('don't worry mate, I checked it out and it was just a floating log, and it won't be bothering US again anytime soon'). While he's (half) joking, some folks do carry guns.
We don't. I hope to rely on Kiwi charm. ('Gidday maaaate! Thanks for letting yourself onto my boat at 3am, care for a drink? My that's a nice shotgun you've got there, scout! What's your interest level in good old-fashioned cold-hard cash? We've got plenty!'). For me the bottom line is that if you carry a gun, you'd better be prepared to use it, and fast, and I'm just not. It seems, from what I read, that pulling out your heat just seems to escalate the situation. You may get killed rather than robbed. I think of the famous New Zealand sailor Peter Blake who was murdered after grabbing his rifle while sailing in Brazil.
The risk is, of course, still pretty small. But I can assure you all this talk leaves you a bit on edge, and this was all running through our heads as we sailed out into the Gulf of Paria. The rhumb line (direct route) to Los Testigos is 100nm east northeast. We'd be told to sail NNE until we're about 20nm offshore, to be out of sight and temptation of the Puerta Mejillones pirogues; but adding about 10nm to the sail.
While Greg cleared up our reefing lines, I went below to check on our track through the islands. It's very tidal, so I switched on the radar to verify our position, and check we weren't being pushed into danger by the tidal flow. Suddenly I saw an orange dot screaming towards us out of the south. Now this thing was flying - each sweep of the radar seemed to bring it about a quarter nautical mile closer - I've never seen a radar target move so fast - and it was close. I yelled to Greg that there was a target closing fast on our port side; I saw him looking and straining: no lights. Oh boy, here we go.
By then I was on deck and I saw the wake of a long, sleek, very fast grey speedboat swooping out of the darkness in a white wall of spray. It closed on us and did a sharp, rounding turn close onto our starboard side then hit us with a bright spotlight.
It was the Trinidad Coast Guard in one of their new, American supplied, drug interdiction fast-patrol boats. These are dark gray 45' speedboats with triple 225HP outboards. Without taking the light off us they advised us to change course (by yelling, strangely no radios) and to proceed to the Coast Guard station for boarding and search.
Greg immediately starting flushing our huge cargo of St Lucian cannabis and loading his rifle. (okay, okay, I made this bit up for effect).
Ultimately, we tied up to their remarkable CG base and they conducted an absurd information gathering process. ("what's your date of birth? How old are you?") I was getting frustrated as the whole purpose of leaving at 3am was to arrive in Los Testigos in daylight; I don't like arriving in unfamiliar, reef strewn anchorages in the dark. However, we remained as polite as we could manage (which you need to realize, is very, very, very polite - they had big guns) and an hour later we were off again, sails up but well behind schedule. We cut the corner and raced directly down the rhumbline, next stop the little archipelago of Los Testigos, Venezuela (11 21'N; 063 07'W). It was my watch as the sun rose behind the misty, Venezuelan mountains and I set up the spinnaker - it's a reaching breeze and if were going to arrive before dark, we'd have to fly.
Later we came across five Venezuelan fishing boats, the chute slicing us through the waves at nearly 9 knots, a good wake chuckling and burbling out behind us. They seemed to be changing course towards us so I bared away as much as I could while keeping the kite full. Still they turned. Finally when we could see the whites of each other's eyes (mine a bit bigger than there's) I gave them a big wave - they all broke into big white smiles and waved passionately. Phew! The were hand-lining for tuna.
And what a sailing day! Greg woke me on his watch to show me the speedo at north of 10 knots, a big rooster tail ripping out behind us and foamy dots of spray flying in the breeze. YEAH! This is what we came for - we started trimming and singing and yahooing - and trying to squeeze out another tenth here and another tenth there, the boat getting big surfs as we lifted and careered down the ocean swells, our grins from ear to ear. The sense of exhilaration on a 13,000kg yacht surfing powerfully down ocean waves, only just in control (giving us the benefit of the doubt here), is a simply life altering experience!
Crack! Suddenly a noise like a rifle shot and the chute blew up into the sky. I thought one of the snatch blocks had exploded under the load, but it turned out to be one of our tired spinnaker sheets. It had parted in a puff of smoke and whipped out through the spinnaker pole. Fortunately it was the brace (windward) sheet so we got it down and under relative control pretty fast. But that, or course, was the end of the kite today. We soon had the genoa pulling us forward and were back on course, still trying to run down the miles by nightfall.
It's now midafternoon. We're 22.7nm from Los Testigos. We're sitting at a little over 9 knots, but this is a good part due to the equatorial current giving us some extra edge; it's bright and sunny and there's whitecaps to the horizon. The water has been a strange green today. Perhaps the run off from all the recent rain. So we're looking good to get there late afternoon after all.
Oh, and I just snagged a big tuna.
12 Feb 2008
While we were pretty confident, but careful, in Chaguaramas, we're very conscious that we're sailing into one of the world's simmering piracy hotspots: Venezuela. Indeed, from our anchorage it's only a 12nm shot to the Promontorio De Paria on Venezuela's east coast. There's been a lot of talk about Venezuela amongst the yachties we've been with because of the number of recent problems - mainly robberies against yachts - but some assaults, and armed robberies. And it seems that more recently things have really taken a turn for the worse. This is from the Isla De Margarita section of the blue-water cruiser's website Noonsite:
A report from the International Maritime Bureau has detailed another Venezuelan attack on a yacht in Bahia De Robledal, Isla De Margarita, in January 2008.
Five armed men boarded the yacht, assaulting the crew and demanding all their property. One crew member was shot and injured. The incident was reported to local authorities.
There have been several attacks on yachts in Robledal Bay in the last few years and yachts wishing to visit Isla de Margarita are strongly advised to stop at Porlamar only which is more frequented by yachts. Yachts should be vigilant at all times, especially at night, and take extra precautions.
'Extra precautions' for many yachts means cruising in a convoy. Others set up radio 'scheds' so they can check on each other using high-frequency radio bands that are unlikely to be accessible to pirates, and many others simply don't sail in Venezuela. Greg, in a perhaps uniquely American approach, wants to arm us with fully-automatic assault rifles so we can 'light em up' if we get any trouble. I can just imagine him on the bow, shoe polish covering his face and bandana wrapped around his forehead, machine gun blazing into the darkness and shell cartridges bouncing all over the deck ('don't worry mate, I checked it out and it was just a floating log, and it won't be bothering US again anytime soon'). While he's (half) joking, some folks do carry guns.
We don't. I hope to rely on Kiwi charm. ('Gidday maaaate! Thanks for letting yourself onto my boat at 3am, care for a drink? My that's a nice shotgun you've got there, scout! What's your interest level in good old-fashioned cold-hard cash? We've got plenty!'). For me the bottom line is that if you carry a gun, you'd better be prepared to use it, and fast, and I'm just not. It seems, from what I read, that pulling out your heat just seems to escalate the situation. You may get killed rather than robbed. I think of the famous New Zealand sailor Peter Blake who was murdered after grabbing his rifle while sailing in Brazil.
The risk is, of course, still pretty small. But I can assure you all this talk leaves you a bit on edge, and this was all running through our heads as we sailed out into the Gulf of Paria. The rhumb line (direct route) to Los Testigos is 100nm east northeast. We'd be told to sail NNE until we're about 20nm offshore, to be out of sight and temptation of the Puerta Mejillones pirogues; but adding about 10nm to the sail.
While Greg cleared up our reefing lines, I went below to check on our track through the islands. It's very tidal, so I switched on the radar to verify our position, and check we weren't being pushed into danger by the tidal flow. Suddenly I saw an orange dot screaming towards us out of the south. Now this thing was flying - each sweep of the radar seemed to bring it about a quarter nautical mile closer - I've never seen a radar target move so fast - and it was close. I yelled to Greg that there was a target closing fast on our port side; I saw him looking and straining: no lights. Oh boy, here we go.
By then I was on deck and I saw the wake of a long, sleek, very fast grey speedboat swooping out of the darkness in a white wall of spray. It closed on us and did a sharp, rounding turn close onto our starboard side then hit us with a bright spotlight.
It was the Trinidad Coast Guard in one of their new, American supplied, drug interdiction fast-patrol boats. These are dark gray 45' speedboats with triple 225HP outboards. Without taking the light off us they advised us to change course (by yelling, strangely no radios) and to proceed to the Coast Guard station for boarding and search.
Greg immediately starting flushing our huge cargo of St Lucian cannabis and loading his rifle. (okay, okay, I made this bit up for effect).
Ultimately, we tied up to their remarkable CG base and they conducted an absurd information gathering process. ("what's your date of birth? How old are you?") I was getting frustrated as the whole purpose of leaving at 3am was to arrive in Los Testigos in daylight; I don't like arriving in unfamiliar, reef strewn anchorages in the dark. However, we remained as polite as we could manage (which you need to realize, is very, very, very polite - they had big guns) and an hour later we were off again, sails up but well behind schedule. We cut the corner and raced directly down the rhumbline, next stop the little archipelago of Los Testigos, Venezuela (11 21'N; 063 07'W). It was my watch as the sun rose behind the misty, Venezuelan mountains and I set up the spinnaker - it's a reaching breeze and if were going to arrive before dark, we'd have to fly.
Later we came across five Venezuelan fishing boats, the chute slicing us through the waves at nearly 9 knots, a good wake chuckling and burbling out behind us. They seemed to be changing course towards us so I bared away as much as I could while keeping the kite full. Still they turned. Finally when we could see the whites of each other's eyes (mine a bit bigger than there's) I gave them a big wave - they all broke into big white smiles and waved passionately. Phew! The were hand-lining for tuna.
And what a sailing day! Greg woke me on his watch to show me the speedo at north of 10 knots, a big rooster tail ripping out behind us and foamy dots of spray flying in the breeze. YEAH! This is what we came for - we started trimming and singing and yahooing - and trying to squeeze out another tenth here and another tenth there, the boat getting big surfs as we lifted and careered down the ocean swells, our grins from ear to ear. The sense of exhilaration on a 13,000kg yacht surfing powerfully down ocean waves, only just in control (giving us the benefit of the doubt here), is a simply life altering experience!
Crack! Suddenly a noise like a rifle shot and the chute blew up into the sky. I thought one of the snatch blocks had exploded under the load, but it turned out to be one of our tired spinnaker sheets. It had parted in a puff of smoke and whipped out through the spinnaker pole. Fortunately it was the brace (windward) sheet so we got it down and under relative control pretty fast. But that, or course, was the end of the kite today. We soon had the genoa pulling us forward and were back on course, still trying to run down the miles by nightfall.
It's now midafternoon. We're 22.7nm from Los Testigos. We're sitting at a little over 9 knots, but this is a good part due to the equatorial current giving us some extra edge; it's bright and sunny and there's whitecaps to the horizon. The water has been a strange green today. Perhaps the run off from all the recent rain. So we're looking good to get there late afternoon after all.
Oh, and I just snagged a big tuna.
12 Feb 2008
Sunday, February 10, 2008
Chaguarmas, Trinidad 10°40.54N, 61°38.31W
We have our rigging issue underway, and it looks like we will be able to get that completed on Monday. We’re keen to move on to the Venezuelan islands of Los Testigos pretty soon. Chaguaramas isn’t a bad spot – certainly good for working on the boat – but it doesn’t have the beauty of many of the places we have visited so far. One factor is the water clarity. We’ve become accustomed to seeing 20m, even 30m underwater, but here it’s not clear at all. I don’t think it’s especially dirty; rather it’s the effect of the Orinico River pumping out millions of litres of muddy water south of us. There’s also a huge number of boats here. Pump-out facilities are almost non-existent in the Caribbean, so we’re not very excited about swimming. Not so good given it’s also hot and humid. Still, we’ve had dolphins swimming around the boat in the harbour where we’re anchored, and I almost hit a pretty big turtle while zooming with Greg in the dinghy.
So we knew we were here for the weekend. I took the maxi-taxi on the 20 minute ride into Port of Spain (90 cents), really more for a look around than anything else. We have so many people warning us that it’s unsafe that it leaves you a little paranoid, but what I found was pretty relaxed. Tight, windy, back streets and little pokey malls that crossed between selling cheap clothes, expensive high-powered stereo gear, and little carts and trucks blocking the streets selling vegetables, fruit, eggs. And guys pulling around giant speaker systems on tiny wheels pumping out SOCA (soul-calypso) beats at full volume. They’re selling counterfeit mixes of the big-hits from Carnival for about $3. We bought some and they’re great, although given every place in the country is blasting the same we’re getting close to saturation!
Later I met some local guys and we had a couple of Stags, the local brew. They worked in the petroleum industry and told fascinating stories about working on the rigs. It seems safety standards and the like are pretty high now, but it was pretty wild not long ago. One told a story about a gas seam blasting up through the rig, and bigger guys ripping lifejackets from the smaller; of course they didn’t have enough to go around. Greg called from the boat – we have local SIM cards in our cell phones – and we decided to see what was going on after dark. I think with usual care Port of Spain is okay; you need to be in the right area, and you need to push out of your mind that 40 people have been murdered this year already. Not bad for 1.3m people. Only get into a cab with an H plate or with a yellow stripe, and, or course, keep out of the shanties. I’d love to show you some photos but I just don’t feel comfortable breaking out my camera on these streets.
Finally, after what turned into around one-million drinks, our new mates left, and I think the bill was charged to BP. We had a club called Zen recommended to us. It was just around the corner. Fortunately Greg had bought in a pair of jeans for me and some sneakers; my shorts and flip-flops were never going to work (funny how in places like Trinidad the dress-code is so full on, whereas in New York you can kind of get away with almost anything). Now Zen was something else! A magnificent space backlit by candles and soft lighting, and all designed to look like the inside of a Buddhist monastery; soft reds, Chinese characters and ginormous Buddha statues. Well, a Buddhist monastery that pumps out full powered SOCA beats and hip-hop, that is. ‘Acoustic perfection’ as Greg put it, referring to the enormous but very good sound system, and as those of you who like clubs would know, a quite unusual benefit. It just seems so out of place in Port of Spain – I mean, it was a really good club. Drinks were horrible expensive by local standards, but still very cheap to us acclimated to NYC. And what fun! It soon filled up with locals – albeit the wealthier set and many back from overseas for Carnival - all ‘wining’ (that funny dance, previously described, in which girls shake their bum’s around in an exotic counter-rotation, and the guy gets effectively frotted with a somewhat astonished look on his face) and ‘liming’ (hanging out).
When the Soca big-beats came on everybody went crazy (here I’m thinking specifically of ‘Bring It – Ah Want me Rum Mix’ and ‘Thunder Waist – Leggo da Riddim Mix’ – let me know if you want a copy). If you don’t know SOCA it’s a super high energy Caribbean beat, a removed version of Calypso, and it’s designed to support all day drunken high-energy dancing Carnival marches through the streets. And that’s the lyric’s main theme: wining, liming, the road, going all day, and big, chunky Thunder Waists (of which, I suspect due to a large number of KFC’s, there are many).
Finally, somewhere in the early hours Greg and I were done, despite Greg talking us into the VIP. He’s just got an amazing gift for these things. Well, we got kicked out in the end, but we were big pimping rockstars for a while there.
Normally, you would just go home, but it’s a bit tricky in Port of Spain at 4am. It’s not really safe to walk around, taxis are highly infrequent, and local cabs are finished. It is also very hot and humid in jeans once you’re out of the super cold airconditioning. Ultimately we walked around Queens Park cricket pitch to the Hilton hotel – the fanciest in PoS and looking down on the city from the NE hills - on the basis that we would insinuate ourselves in and have a swim, and asses the transport situation there. And that we did after snaking over a security fence around the back, running up the bank behind the tennis courts and timing our run perfectly into the closed pool area, trying to keep our giggling and laughing quiet. After a swim we found they had those super recliner chair things, with a deep soft cushion, so we decided that would work fine. I presume we’ll get Hilton Honors miles for our stay. It got a bit chilly so I snuggled up under a towel; Greg was woken by a security guard sometime during the dawn with the advice that he should keep his computer-phone thing in his pocket (so they’re really good people when it comes down to it). We woke up well rested after a deep sleep to find people swimming laps, and perhaps a bit overdressed for the morning pool scene at the Hilton. At least Paris wasn’t there. Thank Heavens I had my sunglasses. But it all gets better! We went to the top floor and had one of those foreign hotel breakfast buffets where the variety of things stretches from horizon to horizon, eggs, fruit, ‘omelet station’, smoked salmon, fresh squeezed juice, croissants…absolute gold, and with a lovely view down on the city. You would never guess at Port of Spain’s more edgy elements when gazing down from the rarified air and leafy grounds of the Hilton.
I called Kady and wished her a Happy Birthday. She is skiing in Chamonix and was exhilarated having just skied a deep powder bowl. It’s just so hard to conceptualise that while looking at the hot, smoking and decrepit shanty villages, cooking smells almost visible in the heat haze, and the sea sparkling right across Golfo de Paria to the hills of Venezuela, the heat and moisture already causing big cumulous clouds to boil high into the sky as a steamy new day begins. What an amazing world we live in.
9 Feb 2008
So we knew we were here for the weekend. I took the maxi-taxi on the 20 minute ride into Port of Spain (90 cents), really more for a look around than anything else. We have so many people warning us that it’s unsafe that it leaves you a little paranoid, but what I found was pretty relaxed. Tight, windy, back streets and little pokey malls that crossed between selling cheap clothes, expensive high-powered stereo gear, and little carts and trucks blocking the streets selling vegetables, fruit, eggs. And guys pulling around giant speaker systems on tiny wheels pumping out SOCA (soul-calypso) beats at full volume. They’re selling counterfeit mixes of the big-hits from Carnival for about $3. We bought some and they’re great, although given every place in the country is blasting the same we’re getting close to saturation!
Later I met some local guys and we had a couple of Stags, the local brew. They worked in the petroleum industry and told fascinating stories about working on the rigs. It seems safety standards and the like are pretty high now, but it was pretty wild not long ago. One told a story about a gas seam blasting up through the rig, and bigger guys ripping lifejackets from the smaller; of course they didn’t have enough to go around. Greg called from the boat – we have local SIM cards in our cell phones – and we decided to see what was going on after dark. I think with usual care Port of Spain is okay; you need to be in the right area, and you need to push out of your mind that 40 people have been murdered this year already. Not bad for 1.3m people. Only get into a cab with an H plate or with a yellow stripe, and, or course, keep out of the shanties. I’d love to show you some photos but I just don’t feel comfortable breaking out my camera on these streets.
Finally, after what turned into around one-million drinks, our new mates left, and I think the bill was charged to BP. We had a club called Zen recommended to us. It was just around the corner. Fortunately Greg had bought in a pair of jeans for me and some sneakers; my shorts and flip-flops were never going to work (funny how in places like Trinidad the dress-code is so full on, whereas in New York you can kind of get away with almost anything). Now Zen was something else! A magnificent space backlit by candles and soft lighting, and all designed to look like the inside of a Buddhist monastery; soft reds, Chinese characters and ginormous Buddha statues. Well, a Buddhist monastery that pumps out full powered SOCA beats and hip-hop, that is. ‘Acoustic perfection’ as Greg put it, referring to the enormous but very good sound system, and as those of you who like clubs would know, a quite unusual benefit. It just seems so out of place in Port of Spain – I mean, it was a really good club. Drinks were horrible expensive by local standards, but still very cheap to us acclimated to NYC. And what fun! It soon filled up with locals – albeit the wealthier set and many back from overseas for Carnival - all ‘wining’ (that funny dance, previously described, in which girls shake their bum’s around in an exotic counter-rotation, and the guy gets effectively frotted with a somewhat astonished look on his face) and ‘liming’ (hanging out).
When the Soca big-beats came on everybody went crazy (here I’m thinking specifically of ‘Bring It – Ah Want me Rum Mix’ and ‘Thunder Waist – Leggo da Riddim Mix’ – let me know if you want a copy). If you don’t know SOCA it’s a super high energy Caribbean beat, a removed version of Calypso, and it’s designed to support all day drunken high-energy dancing Carnival marches through the streets. And that’s the lyric’s main theme: wining, liming, the road, going all day, and big, chunky Thunder Waists (of which, I suspect due to a large number of KFC’s, there are many).
Finally, somewhere in the early hours Greg and I were done, despite Greg talking us into the VIP. He’s just got an amazing gift for these things. Well, we got kicked out in the end, but we were big pimping rockstars for a while there.
Normally, you would just go home, but it’s a bit tricky in Port of Spain at 4am. It’s not really safe to walk around, taxis are highly infrequent, and local cabs are finished. It is also very hot and humid in jeans once you’re out of the super cold airconditioning. Ultimately we walked around Queens Park cricket pitch to the Hilton hotel – the fanciest in PoS and looking down on the city from the NE hills - on the basis that we would insinuate ourselves in and have a swim, and asses the transport situation there. And that we did after snaking over a security fence around the back, running up the bank behind the tennis courts and timing our run perfectly into the closed pool area, trying to keep our giggling and laughing quiet. After a swim we found they had those super recliner chair things, with a deep soft cushion, so we decided that would work fine. I presume we’ll get Hilton Honors miles for our stay. It got a bit chilly so I snuggled up under a towel; Greg was woken by a security guard sometime during the dawn with the advice that he should keep his computer-phone thing in his pocket (so they’re really good people when it comes down to it). We woke up well rested after a deep sleep to find people swimming laps, and perhaps a bit overdressed for the morning pool scene at the Hilton. At least Paris wasn’t there. Thank Heavens I had my sunglasses. But it all gets better! We went to the top floor and had one of those foreign hotel breakfast buffets where the variety of things stretches from horizon to horizon, eggs, fruit, ‘omelet station’, smoked salmon, fresh squeezed juice, croissants…absolute gold, and with a lovely view down on the city. You would never guess at Port of Spain’s more edgy elements when gazing down from the rarified air and leafy grounds of the Hilton.
I called Kady and wished her a Happy Birthday. She is skiing in Chamonix and was exhilarated having just skied a deep powder bowl. It’s just so hard to conceptualise that while looking at the hot, smoking and decrepit shanty villages, cooking smells almost visible in the heat haze, and the sea sparkling right across Golfo de Paria to the hills of Venezuela, the heat and moisture already causing big cumulous clouds to boil high into the sky as a steamy new day begins. What an amazing world we live in.
9 Feb 2008
Thursday, February 7, 2008
Chaguaramas,Trinidad 10°40.54N, 61°38.31W
Although our main reason for coming here was to ‘play mas’ at Carnival, Chaguaramas, where we are anchored, is also a main hub for sailboat construction and maintenance in the Caribbean. The bay is surrounded by six huge boatyards, and there are probably 1,500 yachts here of various size and description. All of the major equipment brands are represented here, and you can get everything from new electronics installed to teak decks. A key attraction for many people is that labour is cheap, especially when compared to North America.
We have a small lingering issue with our rigging. Although the boat is almost new (now 4 years old), I think when it was originally rigged the shrouds that support the mast were built a touch too long. It’s normal that new wire will stretch a little bit over time, and for that reason, the shrouds terminate in a turnbuckle, a device that allows the rig to be tuned by adjusting the tension.
The turnbuckles on our capshrouds, and one of the intermediates, are fully closed, which means they can’t be tightened any more. The shrouds are not so loose that we’re risking our rig, but given we’re blue-water sailing it’s time to do something about it. The answer – I think – is to cut the rigging off at the swages, and install new mechanical rigging terminals called Sta-Loks. They’re reasonably simple to install because they don’t need a machined swage, but we need to source the parts and make sure that once cut the new parts will fit in the turnbuckles at just the right point. No room for mistakes! Fortunately we’re in a good spot with several riggers around.
Chaguaramas is also base to a some of the commercial ships that support the offshore oil platforms, of which there are many in Trinidad (including a number run by BHP) so we see them docking and loading frequently – a number have helicopter pads.
7 Feb 2008
We have a small lingering issue with our rigging. Although the boat is almost new (now 4 years old), I think when it was originally rigged the shrouds that support the mast were built a touch too long. It’s normal that new wire will stretch a little bit over time, and for that reason, the shrouds terminate in a turnbuckle, a device that allows the rig to be tuned by adjusting the tension.
The turnbuckles on our capshrouds, and one of the intermediates, are fully closed, which means they can’t be tightened any more. The shrouds are not so loose that we’re risking our rig, but given we’re blue-water sailing it’s time to do something about it. The answer – I think – is to cut the rigging off at the swages, and install new mechanical rigging terminals called Sta-Loks. They’re reasonably simple to install because they don’t need a machined swage, but we need to source the parts and make sure that once cut the new parts will fit in the turnbuckles at just the right point. No room for mistakes! Fortunately we’re in a good spot with several riggers around.
Chaguaramas is also base to a some of the commercial ships that support the offshore oil platforms, of which there are many in Trinidad (including a number run by BHP) so we see them docking and loading frequently – a number have helicopter pads.
7 Feb 2008
Tuesday, February 5, 2008
Carnival!
My photos probably do it more justice than trying to explain - click here!
(somebody seems to have borrowed my camera in the middle there).
For best viewing, select slideshow in the bottom left.
For best viewing, select slideshow in the bottom left.
Sunday, February 3, 2008
60nm north of Trinidad
I am on watch, and we are about 60nm north of Trinidad. It's the most beautiful night for sailing. The breeze is warm, and it's gentle, varying between 10 and 14knts most of the time. We have the full main and genoa pulling as along, and that combination is giving us speed over the ground (adjusted for current) in the 7's but we've had a few minutes at nearly 9 knots in a puff; an exhilarating sleigh ride through the darkness.
But the most delightful thing is the sea. It's normally pretty lumpy around these parts, but tonight, after several days of lighter than normal winds, the seas have moderated allowing us to effortlessly slide over the water with just a gentle rocking motion, and a low frequency rise and fall caused by the larger undertone of the ocean swells, really only noticeable looking at the other boats out here.
It's dark. There's no moon. The heavens are littered with stars that run from horizon to horizon. I'm looking for the Southern Cross. It's an important constellation for us Kiwi's as it's in our sky much of the time, and of course it is on our flag. I haven't seen it yet, but we're only 11 degrees north of the equator now and I think it'll show itself soon. Behind us is a glowing trail of phosphorescence caused by the rudder and keel slicing through the warm water. It looks like a faint meteor trail casting back to the horizon.
I'm also watching a freighter that is slowly overhauling us. I can tell from its lights that it's several hundred feet long, heading approximately in our direction, and the green light signals that I am looking at its starboard side. It's almost certainly heading to Trinidad too. The night is so clear that I put the radar antennae to sleep to save power. From time to time I take a transit - just simply by lining up a lifeline stanchion and the boat. If the angle changes over time you can see the boat will pass clear of us; if it doesn't we're on a collision course and we'll need to do something. Tonight though it's easy - I can see this freighter will pass to the north of us.
The can probably see us too. We are flying a tri-colour light on our masthead. This signals we are a sailboat under sail. We also carry a radar reflector near the second spreader on the mast, and this should be giving a clear response each time their radar sweeps us.
Greg is asleep. His watch starts in about 45 minutes. I don't really want to wake him. Although I am typing this with my laptop on my knees in the cockpit (how nice is that - there's normally way too much spray and movement), I'm keeping a good look out, especially in the blind spot behind the genoa. This is because there are quite a few local fishing boats off the northern Trinidadian coast. Many don't carry fixed lights, but they may flicker a flashlight at you when they see you coming.
The chart also shows Hibiscus, and I have plotted our course such that we will pass within about a mile of it. Hibiscus is a large offshore oil platform, and there is a second platform 4nm to its NE. Although we navigate by GPS which gives us real-time position updates, I still like to cross-check where we are using other indicators. This can be through depth, lighthouses, navigation markers etc, but an offshore oilrig that looks like a city at sea should also work pretty well! Should visibility fail later, the rig is fitted with a RACON. This is a radar transponder. When our radar signal hits it, it shoots back a powerful pulse that shows clearly on the screen. It also transmits a morse code signal that is also drawn on the radar (say, a long then short line).
We're sailing through the equatorial current which is approximately west setting, although it appears to be more NW nearer Grenada. It's quite meaningful at around 1.2knts, so the course we are steering is almost 15 degrees to port (east) of our course over the ground (COG). It's like we're aiming to go down the east coast of Trinidad, or near Tobago, but in fact we will sail down the west coast into the Golfo De Paria, get past the islands, then come hard on the wind by steering east for the short sail into Chaguaramus. Chaguaramus is a port of entry, so we will clear customs on arrival.
Grenada has passed astern of us, and I can just see the loom of Trinidad on the horizon, despite that we have most of the night still to sail to reach it. I have an LED headlamp on but I keep it off to keep my night vision sharp, and it's amazing the glow that Trinidad is putting out! The country has 1.3m people, so it is by far the biggest island we have been to for a long time. Tomorrow night is the start of Carnival and Greg and I are both excited. One of my favourite costumes is a Moko Jumbie. For this, you wear super high stilts and colourful pantaloons. Moko Jumbie's are supposed to be able to see evil coming before normal people. I will try and photograph one to show you. I also want to see a Red Ibis; Trinidad's national bird.
The freighter has now passed us and pulled ahead. The green starboard light is gone, replaced by its white stern light. The most telling sign that it's clear however, it having passed and pulled ahead to windward, is that I can just smell its diesel exhaust on the wind. I've smelt this cruising in thick New England fog and, when you can't see the ship that creates it, it's terrifying!
Time to wake up Greg. I have to unclip my tether from my harness and lifejacket. It has a very elaborate shackle on the boat end (so it can be twisted without undoing) but a quick release on the harness end (just in case you need to get it off fast)) so it's fast and easy. Although it's lovely sailing conditions, we always sail with harnesses offshore and always at night. There's only one of us on deck at a time, so if you went over without being tethered to the boat, goodnight nurse! Occasionally we have to go forward into the bow. For this we have jacklines, which are tapes that run up and down each side of the boat. You snap you tether on these and you can slide it up behind you. Not as good as the fixed padeyes we use in the cockpit, but they're a lot safer than bounding forward between waves!
Have to go. I'm up again in three hours. Goodnight!
But the most delightful thing is the sea. It's normally pretty lumpy around these parts, but tonight, after several days of lighter than normal winds, the seas have moderated allowing us to effortlessly slide over the water with just a gentle rocking motion, and a low frequency rise and fall caused by the larger undertone of the ocean swells, really only noticeable looking at the other boats out here.
It's dark. There's no moon. The heavens are littered with stars that run from horizon to horizon. I'm looking for the Southern Cross. It's an important constellation for us Kiwi's as it's in our sky much of the time, and of course it is on our flag. I haven't seen it yet, but we're only 11 degrees north of the equator now and I think it'll show itself soon. Behind us is a glowing trail of phosphorescence caused by the rudder and keel slicing through the warm water. It looks like a faint meteor trail casting back to the horizon.
I'm also watching a freighter that is slowly overhauling us. I can tell from its lights that it's several hundred feet long, heading approximately in our direction, and the green light signals that I am looking at its starboard side. It's almost certainly heading to Trinidad too. The night is so clear that I put the radar antennae to sleep to save power. From time to time I take a transit - just simply by lining up a lifeline stanchion and the boat. If the angle changes over time you can see the boat will pass clear of us; if it doesn't we're on a collision course and we'll need to do something. Tonight though it's easy - I can see this freighter will pass to the north of us.
The can probably see us too. We are flying a tri-colour light on our masthead. This signals we are a sailboat under sail. We also carry a radar reflector near the second spreader on the mast, and this should be giving a clear response each time their radar sweeps us.
Greg is asleep. His watch starts in about 45 minutes. I don't really want to wake him. Although I am typing this with my laptop on my knees in the cockpit (how nice is that - there's normally way too much spray and movement), I'm keeping a good look out, especially in the blind spot behind the genoa. This is because there are quite a few local fishing boats off the northern Trinidadian coast. Many don't carry fixed lights, but they may flicker a flashlight at you when they see you coming.
The chart also shows Hibiscus, and I have plotted our course such that we will pass within about a mile of it. Hibiscus is a large offshore oil platform, and there is a second platform 4nm to its NE. Although we navigate by GPS which gives us real-time position updates, I still like to cross-check where we are using other indicators. This can be through depth, lighthouses, navigation markers etc, but an offshore oilrig that looks like a city at sea should also work pretty well! Should visibility fail later, the rig is fitted with a RACON. This is a radar transponder. When our radar signal hits it, it shoots back a powerful pulse that shows clearly on the screen. It also transmits a morse code signal that is also drawn on the radar (say, a long then short line).
We're sailing through the equatorial current which is approximately west setting, although it appears to be more NW nearer Grenada. It's quite meaningful at around 1.2knts, so the course we are steering is almost 15 degrees to port (east) of our course over the ground (COG). It's like we're aiming to go down the east coast of Trinidad, or near Tobago, but in fact we will sail down the west coast into the Golfo De Paria, get past the islands, then come hard on the wind by steering east for the short sail into Chaguaramus. Chaguaramus is a port of entry, so we will clear customs on arrival.
Grenada has passed astern of us, and I can just see the loom of Trinidad on the horizon, despite that we have most of the night still to sail to reach it. I have an LED headlamp on but I keep it off to keep my night vision sharp, and it's amazing the glow that Trinidad is putting out! The country has 1.3m people, so it is by far the biggest island we have been to for a long time. Tomorrow night is the start of Carnival and Greg and I are both excited. One of my favourite costumes is a Moko Jumbie. For this, you wear super high stilts and colourful pantaloons. Moko Jumbie's are supposed to be able to see evil coming before normal people. I will try and photograph one to show you. I also want to see a Red Ibis; Trinidad's national bird.
The freighter has now passed us and pulled ahead. The green starboard light is gone, replaced by its white stern light. The most telling sign that it's clear however, it having passed and pulled ahead to windward, is that I can just smell its diesel exhaust on the wind. I've smelt this cruising in thick New England fog and, when you can't see the ship that creates it, it's terrifying!
Time to wake up Greg. I have to unclip my tether from my harness and lifejacket. It has a very elaborate shackle on the boat end (so it can be twisted without undoing) but a quick release on the harness end (just in case you need to get it off fast)) so it's fast and easy. Although it's lovely sailing conditions, we always sail with harnesses offshore and always at night. There's only one of us on deck at a time, so if you went over without being tethered to the boat, goodnight nurse! Occasionally we have to go forward into the bow. For this we have jacklines, which are tapes that run up and down each side of the boat. You snap you tether on these and you can slide it up behind you. Not as good as the fixed padeyes we use in the cockpit, but they're a lot safer than bounding forward between waves!
Have to go. I'm up again in three hours. Goodnight!
Saturday, February 2, 2008
En Route Trinidad 11-55'.01N, 061-45'.9W
We just left Prickly Bay, Grenada, at 1630 for the overnight sail to Trinidad. We're about 20nm offshore and making a steady 6.8knts down the rhumb line; no other yachts in sight but one container ship on the horizon. We should be there in the morning, looks like 0500 for now. A good sleep when we get there, a coffee, and we'll be ready for Carnival!
(and Greg, a Giants fan, will be ready for Superbowl Sunday!)
I am making a pasta sauce out of all or our leftovers: a bit of steak, some courgettes, onions, garlic, potatoes...solid boy food.
Looks like the best radio propogation is out of Panama at this time of day (you would think Trinidad); if you're reading this it worked! If I can get a signal I'll update our position overnight.
(and Greg, a Giants fan, will be ready for Superbowl Sunday!)
I am making a pasta sauce out of all or our leftovers: a bit of steak, some courgettes, onions, garlic, potatoes...solid boy food.
Looks like the best radio propogation is out of Panama at this time of day (you would think Trinidad); if you're reading this it worked! If I can get a signal I'll update our position overnight.
Friday, February 1, 2008
Prickly Bay, Grenada 11°59.8N, 061°45.7W
What a spectacular sail! We left Petit St Vincent early after an unpleasant rolly night, hauled up the main, pointed the bow south and started to roll down the waves, the sea floor rushing past 15m below us.
The day started bright and cloudless, and the breeze quite unusual: NNE, I think for the first time since we’ve been here; it’s almost always more easterly. This downwind sailing is perfect for our big kite, so we rigged up the sheets, clipped the snatch blocks to the toe-rail and hoisted the chute into the breeze. This is a bit of a challenge for two people, but Greg and I have it approximately sorted. And it’s so fun to sail. The speed increase is phenomenal, especially on a boat with a hull that is so easily driven.
We left it up all day, sailing down the windward side of Carriacou, past the natural hole in the rock, near (but not over) the active underwater volcano called Kick em’ Jenny, and then opted to run down the windward side of Grenada. I had had this passage recommended by the Shafers (the former owners of this boat) and it’s a tremendous and beautiful run. So we’re not anchored in Prickly Bay, on the island’s southern end. After spending last night rolling from one side of my bed to the other, this bay is beautiful, calm and quiet.
Grenada has had a striking recovery too. I was last here in 2001, and it’s much more developed and a lot more fancy than it was then. And you have to remember that hurricane Ivan absolutely destroyed Grenada a few years ago. No wonder everything looks new. Still, it’s the most modern island we have been to in a while, and there’s a lot of yachts here. I just took the dinghy into the Prickly Bay marina and there must have been 50 other dinghys tied up. Ah, happy hour!
We have a few things to do here: it’s duty free so we’ll buy some beers and food, and some diesel. There are good marine chandlers too, so the inevitable series of broken boat parts and spares can be replenished.
From here the day-sailing is over: we have an overnight passage ahead of us. But we do have a choice. We can head south, by pass Tobago and head to Trinidad. This holds some excitement as the annual Carnival starts today. If we leave tomorrow at dusk, we can be there in time for the real festivities that start Sunday.
Alternatively, we can head SW to Los Testigos. A small island off the coast of Venezuela. A friend we met in Bermuda and who has sailed all over these parts for the last three years, said “in my opinion, knowing the passage you’ve done and islands you’ve been to so far, Los Testigos will be your first taste of real Paradise”.
Heavens. We’ve seen some incredibly beautiful spots! What on earth can he be getting at?
1 Feb 2008
The day started bright and cloudless, and the breeze quite unusual: NNE, I think for the first time since we’ve been here; it’s almost always more easterly. This downwind sailing is perfect for our big kite, so we rigged up the sheets, clipped the snatch blocks to the toe-rail and hoisted the chute into the breeze. This is a bit of a challenge for two people, but Greg and I have it approximately sorted. And it’s so fun to sail. The speed increase is phenomenal, especially on a boat with a hull that is so easily driven.
We left it up all day, sailing down the windward side of Carriacou, past the natural hole in the rock, near (but not over) the active underwater volcano called Kick em’ Jenny, and then opted to run down the windward side of Grenada. I had had this passage recommended by the Shafers (the former owners of this boat) and it’s a tremendous and beautiful run. So we’re not anchored in Prickly Bay, on the island’s southern end. After spending last night rolling from one side of my bed to the other, this bay is beautiful, calm and quiet.
Grenada has had a striking recovery too. I was last here in 2001, and it’s much more developed and a lot more fancy than it was then. And you have to remember that hurricane Ivan absolutely destroyed Grenada a few years ago. No wonder everything looks new. Still, it’s the most modern island we have been to in a while, and there’s a lot of yachts here. I just took the dinghy into the Prickly Bay marina and there must have been 50 other dinghys tied up. Ah, happy hour!
We have a few things to do here: it’s duty free so we’ll buy some beers and food, and some diesel. There are good marine chandlers too, so the inevitable series of broken boat parts and spares can be replenished.
From here the day-sailing is over: we have an overnight passage ahead of us. But we do have a choice. We can head south, by pass Tobago and head to Trinidad. This holds some excitement as the annual Carnival starts today. If we leave tomorrow at dusk, we can be there in time for the real festivities that start Sunday.
Alternatively, we can head SW to Los Testigos. A small island off the coast of Venezuela. A friend we met in Bermuda and who has sailed all over these parts for the last three years, said “in my opinion, knowing the passage you’ve done and islands you’ve been to so far, Los Testigos will be your first taste of real Paradise”.
Heavens. We’ve seen some incredibly beautiful spots! What on earth can he be getting at?
1 Feb 2008
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