| BAHAMAS, TURKS AND CAICOS AND THE DOMINICAN REPUBLIC |
Well. It took one week to wait for weather. We left Crandon Park Marina at Key Biscayne on Thanksgiving day.
To Nassau (November 2007) - The trip would take about 24 hours and we did not want to get to Nassau too early in the morning. We
needed to be able to see. You can enter the harbor at night okay, but once inside the harbor is too tight and crowded to be safe. We also
wanted to make sure our marginal weather window would materialize. The forecast called for 12 to 15 knot winds out of the east. That
meant the Gulf Stream would not have bigger waves from wind against the current, but the wind chop would be four to five feet directly on
our nose. So for all those reasons, we dropped the mooring ball about 8 a.m. and made our way to the south side of Key Biscayne and the
Florida Channel. Our plan was to go out the Florida Channel to check the conditions and, if we didn't think we could take the pounding, we
would turn back and anchor in No Name Harbor (right off the Florida Channel). We finally get to deep water about 10 a.m. and the wind
was about 30 to 40 degrees true off our bow with wind about 12 to 15 knots. Seas were around 4 to 6 feet. So far the forecast was right on.
We had our staysail up to help stabilize the boat and were motoring at about six knots. We expected this combination (wind, seas and sails)
all the way to Nassau, except for smaller waves on the banks for about half the trip. Pounding into waves and wind is no fun, especially if
you have to point so close to the wind and can't sail. The boat would be rolling a lot. After giving it a couple of hours we decided to give it a
go, even though we would be uncomfortable for most of the trip.
We arrived on the Bahama banks close to dark, crossing onto the banks at North Rock north of Bimini. We had just enough light to see the
amazing colors of the shallow water and could see the bottom for about an hour. We had almost forgotten how perfect that sight was. Once
on the banks, the wind died a bit and we had only a light chop. It was also a full moon so the next few hours were really nice. Then, about
midnight (completely unforecast) in the vicinity of Mackie Shoals, the wind kicked up to 20 knots or so and we got bounced around a bit.
However, as if on cue, the wind died to about 10 knots just as we were transiting the Northwest Channel at 2 a.m.. Once through the
Northwest Channel you are off the banks and in Northeast Providence Channel in deep water (from 15 feet on the banks to five to ten
thousand feet all within a few minutes). The deep water was not as rough as we expected and the rest of the trip was uneventful. We
arrived in Nassau about nine a.m. and even got a little sleep along the way.
We stayed in Nassau four days waiting on weather.
Nassau is not our favorite place, but it is perfectly placed as a cross roads in the Bahamas. Even if you wanted to, Nassau is hard to miss.
On a positive note, Nassau is a good place to provision or get repairs.
The Exumas (November 2007 - December 2007) - We left Nassau at nine a.m. We did not want to cross the Yellow Bank before
noon since we needed good light to avoid the scattered coral heads. Besides, it was only 35 miles to Highbourne Cay. We arrived about
three and anchored off a beautiful, perfect beach in perfectly clear water. This is what cruising is all about. The next morning we were off
at daylight to arrive at Warderwick Wells during mid-day. Beautiful. It was hard to leave, but the weather was good for moving. We left at
8 the following morning and got to Staniel Cay at about noon. Beautiful. Leta even got in the water and snorkeled a bit around the boat
(which is a big milestone for her). Next day we were off to Cave Cay. It was a perfect sail at over seven knots and we arrived at a perfect
anchorage during mid-afternoon. Beautiful. Next day, we took off to Georgetown. Our anchorage was really close to Cave Cay cut, so it
was easy to get out to Exuma Sound. The forecast was marginal with 15 to 20 knots really close to the direction we wanted to go. But we
were anxious to get moving and decided to get out to the Sound and decide whether we could stand the pounding we knew we were in for.
We decided to go for it (60 degrees and 15 to 20 knots) and managed to average over 6 and one half knots, despite the five and six foot
waves, for the 5 or 6 hours it took to get to Georgetown. By three or so we were anchored and were exhausted from the beating the wind
and waves had given us. But hey. We were making progress.
We would be waiting in Georgetown until the right weather window to keep moving east and south.
Georgetown (December 2007) - Georgetown is in the southern Exumas but needs its own caption. It's the destination of up to 500 boats
during the winter. Most of those boats make the trip from the states or Canada as fast as they can and stay in Georgetown once they get
there. Even though Elizabeth Harbor is really large, you can withstand bad weather from any direction and the holding is good. I'm
guessing that's why Georgetown has become the winter destination it is.
Most of those 500 boats love it. Once there, you can immerse yourself in the social scene and activities which is tightly coordinated by a
few who see themselves as the organizers and keepers of order. If there, you are expected to follow their rules.
For independent sorts, such as ourselves, the Georgetown social order is a nightmare that we want no part of.
Having said that, we were so far in front of the Georgetown pack, Georgetown was really nice. The anchorage where we were (Hamburger
Beach off Monument Rock) had only four or five boats which would hold at least 30 or 40 at the height of the season. We had a pleasant
three day stay.
On to Turks and Caicos (December 2007) - We were facing an extraordinary weather window. The forecast was for light and variable
winds all the way to the Dominican Republic for several days. That meant no sailing, but no big seas or winds to deal with. Going southeast
from Georgetown is very difficult and time consuming in prevailing conditions. We decided to take the motor sailing opportunity and make
it to Provo in the Turks and Caicos Islands within two days.
We left Georgetown at daylight a few minutes before Chris Parker's 6:30 a.m. broadcast so Leta could talk to him about the forecast while
underway. The forecast was still very mild and we get out of Elizabeth Harbor around 7:00. The large swells that had built during the last
several days were beginning to diminish and we had only long, slow 3 to 4 foot swells until we got around the northern tip of Long Island
about noon (where the swells were about 5 to 6, but still at an 8 or 9 second interval). The wind was behind us (unbelievable - that never
happens) and we had enough wind to keep the main and staysail up until nightfall. We had the engine going at 2200 to 2300 rpm, which
meant our average speed over ground was close to seven knots. About dawn, we see our temporary destination of Mayaguana. It took us
to about noon to get to an anchorage at Southeast Point (only 35 miles from the waypoint at the entrance to the nine mile long Sandbore
Channel that would take us to Provo). The plan was to take a nap and wake up at midnight and get underway early morning to put us at
Sandbore Channel at 8 a.m.
The "Out Island" anchorage at Mayaguana was beautiful. We were perfectly alone, anchored in twenty feet of water in deep sand amongst
coral heads. Leta even put on snorkeling gear (that's twice now). Within a couple of hundred yards the water was 2000 plus feet on one
side and beach on the other. No signs of civilization as far as the eye could see. We were very lucky to spend time at this anchorage.
Under prevailing conditions the swells and wind would make this anchorage dangerous for the same reasons that make it so very special.
As for us, we had seen wind under five knots for at least the last 8 or 10 hours which meant that there was not a ripple on the water. Also,
the swells were from the north (when usually they are from the east) and had diminished to around six to eight feet in at least a ten our
twelve second interval. The anchorage was just a little rolly from the swells coming around the reef at the tip of the island, but not rolly
enough to be uncomfortable. It was about as good as it gets.
Turks and Caicos (December 2007) - We left the perfect anchorage at 2:00 a.m. for the short sail (it was really a motor sail) to Provo.
We get to the Sandbore Channel on schedule at 8:00 a.m. and get to the anchorage at Sapodilla Bay around 10:00. We would be here for a
while. The forecast for the next week was for really strong trades (25 to 35 knots with higher gusts in squalls) with seas approaching 12 or
more feet (no swells this time - a five or six second interval). We would be going nowhere until the winds and seas subsided. We were only
120 miles from the DR, but it might as well be a 1000. This, of course, is the norm for going southeast into the teeth of the trade winds.
We'll just wait and see.
We arrived at Sapodilla Bay on a Thursday and we left at dawn on the second Monday after (yes, eleven days). The weather was terrible
while there. For the first few days the wind was 25 to 30. Then squalls were added to the mix thanks to tropical storm Olga that passed
about 150 miles south of us, so the 25 to 30 became 40 and even 50 during the rain storms One of the four or five boats anchored in
Sapodilla Bay told us that they saw 55 knots during one of the rain storms. To add to the misery, Sapodilla Bay was very rolly which made
it difficult to rest. On the positive side, holding was excellent in soft, deep sand, so we felt very secure in even the worst rain storms.
Having said that, the most terrifying event since we began boating happened during one of the storms. Another sailboat was anchored
about 10 boat lengths in front of us. We watched them come in a couple of days earlier and did not like the way they anchored (not enough
attention to setting the anchor, not enough scope, etc.). At the time we thought about moving but decided that the odds of the wind being in
the exact direction for them to drag down on us was very remote (it is also very rude for someone to anchor in front of you - another reason
we should have moved, but we didn't). Not moving almost turned out to be the biggest mistake we ever made. Well. The story goes like
this. About dark we were slammed by one of those intense squalls that come out of nowhere and slam the &%^$*#@ out of your boat. We
turned on the electronics and the wind was consistently over 40 and we saw a gust up to 50. The rain was so heavy that the late afternoon
sky turned completely white and we could not see anything. We couldn't even see the front of our boat. The rain let up just enough for us
to see a few boat lengths around us and to our horrifying realization the idiot boat was dragging down on us very fast. All we could think
about was the idiot boat crashing into ours, dragging their anchor over ours (making a big mess of anchors and chains) and sinking us right
there. We tried in vain to raise them on VHF. Time and time again, yelling into the radio for them to turn on their engine, do something,
anything. We got one response from the idiot saying that he copied our radio transmission. But he didn't do anything. He wasn't even on
deck. Davy Jones must have been smiling on us that day because the rain let up even more and the wind dropped from 40 to about 25.
They stopped moving. Now the problem was that their boat was sitting right over our anchor. We couldn't do anything except cut our
anchor loose (which we would have done if necessary). I had been standing on the front of the boat in the driving rain, yelling at them, using
the handheld radio trying to talk to them for at least 10 minutes by now (it seemed like hours). They still were not on deck. I tried in vain to
get them to do something, telling them about my anchor, telling them they had to move while the wind was down (believe me 25 knots was
down), to no avail. Finally, the idiot guy comes on deck. I'm yelling, pleading, doing anything I could to get the guy to re-anchor. He finally
goes forward and I begin to breathe a sigh of relief especially when the idiot woman gets in the cockpit and turns on the engine. My
euphoria was short lived. Idiot number one and idiot number two get their anchor up and proceed to go back to the exact same location
where their anchor lay before they started dragging. They drop anchor and start falling back once again very close to being on top of my
anchor. All my yelling and radio pleading obviously did no good with these two. Now I'm looking at two options, actually two good options
except the second one has me relying on my secondary anchor instead of big dog. The best option was to get my anchor up if my anchor
was not under their boat and the second is to cut the anchor loose and retrieve it later. It was dark. The wind and rain was howling. Leta
couldn't see anything I was doing up front. She couldn't hear anything no matter how much I could yell. The headsets worked perfectly
which is why we have the darned things. We could not have managed without them. By now we needed a break. We could calmly talk to
each other, getting the anchor up without chopping off my foot with the anchor chain, she looking at the chartplotter, me seeing what I could
to keep from running over other boats and finally getting the anchor back down and set, just in time for the next 30 to 40 knot squall. After
getting back to the cockpit, we got a call on VHF from one of our acquaintances in the anchorage who witnessed the entire idiot event. He
summed it up beautifully. He said, "I guess you're wet down to your short hairs." All I could do was to say yes. Then we all turned in for a
stormy night.
We see nothing in the Turks and Caicos for the cruiser. The anchorages are all exposed to several directions and marinas are very few and
not suited for transients. You can't even raise them by radio. Most of the cruisers passing through anchor in Sapodilla Bay where we did.
It's nice enough with good holding as I said before, but any wind from south east through the south to the west would be murder. There are
also no services at all. The town of Provo is six miles away and only a small store with a very limited selection of sodas and stuff is within
walking distance. The scenery is also not great and the water is murky. All things considered we would pass on the Turks and Caicos
islands next time. Having said that, if you are on the way from the Bahamas to the Caribbean by way of the DR or Puerto Rico it is really a
must stop unless you get an extraordinary weather window to bypass the Turds and Cacas, as another acquaintance in the anchorage
dubbed the islands. Hope you have better luck when you are there.
Speaking of acquaintances in the anchorage. We are finally getting pretty far off the beaten path, away from the Georgetown crowd and to
places where you meet more seasoned cruisers who are much more independent. We are meeting more and more people we like.
Well. Like I said earlier, we left eleven days after our arrival. We left at dawn with the plan of traversing the Caicos banks eastward. If
we made good time, we would decide on the other side whether we would keep going across the Turks Passage to Big Sand Cay. Once
there we could decide whether to anchor for the night or keep going to Luperon, Dominican Republic. From Big Sand Cay, Luperon is only
80 nautical miles.
One more thing about the Turds and Cacas. The trip across the banks was very pretty. However, coral heads are everywhere. Even within
the so called channels as charted. So, we spent all day keeping a sharp lookout and having to make radical course changes numerous
times. Pass. Pass. Pass.
Dominican Republic (December 2007) - After leaving Sapodilla Bay at dawn, the timing worked out perfectly for the next 24 hours.
We crossed the Caicos banks, arriving at the Turks Passage by mid-afternoon, which would put us at Big Sand Cay about dark. If weather
conditions permitted, we could continue to Luperon, arriving at dawn the next day. One must arrive at Luperon close to dawn because
coastal acceleration will cause whatever gradient wind that exists to increase significantly during the day.
But first we had to cross the Turks Passage. It was only 23 miles to Big Sand, but the Turks Passage is notorious for rough conditions. The
reason is that water from thousands of feet come rushing up to the shallows of the Caicos banks pushed by the equatorial current of up to a
knot or two depending on conditions. Wind was 12 to 15, just enough to kick up enough wind chop on top of the confused swells to make it
miserable for a few hours.
Despite the fun conditions, we get to Big Sand roughly on cue and pulled into the anchorage for a few minutes with no intention of anchoring.
We had decided to keep going to Luperon, but Bogey needed to pee. In the lee of Big Sand the water was smooth and Leta took him out
back on the swim platform with both dog and wife clipped in. The swim platform is much preferable to the inside the head routine for the
dog. We have the aft shower rigged where Bogey can go on his grass, but then you have to clean up after him. It works great for offshore
work, but it's just harder to deal with than the swim platform (so we took advantage of the situation at hand).
After Bogey did his thing, we headed straight for Luperon. As usual going east, the wind was very close to our heading, but the angle was
just enough to keep wind in our main and staysail as we motored at about 2000 rpm. We were glad we had enough wind to stabilize the boat
because it was rough. Neither of us slept much, but we made Luperon just as the sun was creeping up over the horizon. The DR was a big
milestone and we had made it unscathed.
The anchorage at Luperon was the first anchorage since the Chesapeake Bay that was completely protected. We were looking forward to a
peaceful night at anchor with no rocking and rolling. On entering the harbor we were surprised at how crowded it was, but after looking
around for a few minutes we found a good spot with enough swinging room to be comfortable. We needed a nap, but first was clearing
customs and immigration. The DR is definitely a third-world sort of country and we had prepared ourselves for "gifts" to various officials.
Well. It took most of the day to get cleared in. First we had to go to immigration. Then it was customs. Then we had to talk to the "navy"
(there is no navy in the DR) where we were asked to donate a gift. Later agriculture came to our boat (to make sure we didn't have any
nasty food or animals - please, have you ever been to the interior of Mexico). It was ten dollars here, twenty dollars there. Then, a couple
of days later, we had to clear out and pay fees for this and that. We sort of lost count, but the total cost to various government "officials"
was close to $150. Anyway, we got enough documents to keep us legal for a while.
Luperon was an interesting contrast. Firstly, it was beautiful. Mountains all around, just stunning. The town was typical third-world. Lots
of street markets and bars and restaurants. Everything dirty. Open sewers that ultimately made it to the harbor (you don't want to
accidentally fall in here). The people were nice, but they were all trying to figure our how to get money from the rich americans. The harbor
was very calm and at night cold mountain air made its way down to your boat - very comfortable. Despite the negatives, some cruisers stay
for months or even years. The author of The Gentleman's Guide to Passages South, Bruce Van Sant, makes his home here.
Speaking of Passages South. Now is as good a time as any to mention the book. You must have this book to make your way windward in
the southwest North Atlantic and Caribbean. There is no other way to say it. Buy the book. You'll get your ass handed to you if you don't
learn the tricks of the trade winds and follow Van Sant's advice. Just get the book.
We were planning to stay a few days, or even weeks if necessary for the proper weather window. Making your way east along the northern
coast of the DR and on to Puerto Rico is one of the toughest slugs in the trip southeast. It turned out that we had several days of settled
weather forecast with light trades only after being in the DR for a couple of days. After that the weather patterns looked like weeks of
strong trades. It was either now or waiting for quite some time. It was now for us.
Van Sant says to make several stops in the DR (going at night to take advantage of the night lee), but the weather was so light we decided
to make no stops and once we rounded the northeast corner of the DR, go directly to Puerto Rico. That would take 48 hours. We left at
dusk and motor sailed the north coast of the DR and arrived at Escondido at about 2:00 the following afternoon. We paused there without
anchoring until five because we didn't want to round the point at Samana Bay until late afternoon (the night lee thing). We would have
preferred to anchor for a few hours instead of bouncing around in the swell all afternoon, but we had no interest in getting boarded by
"officials" with their hands out once again.
So. We round the point, and head for Puerto Rico skirting the Hourglass Shoal to the northeast and then taking a rumbline to Boqueron.
The weather was fairly light, but the Mona Passage is another one of those notorious rough spots because of current and severe depth
contours. That's why you stay clear of Hourglass Shoal. It's not really a shoal - the shallowest depth is probably a hundred feet, but it's
next to a five thousand foot drop off, etc. It was a long night, but we actually got a little sleep (it's always easier the second night out).
Then, around dawn, the wind died completely and it was a calm motor sail the rest of the trip. We arrived at Boqueron about 2:30 in the
afternoon and were anchored by three. Puerto Rico was the biggest milestone to date. From here, even though there is a lot of windward
work still to go, the trips are relatively short hops of 15 to 20 miles. Immediately to the east of Puerto Rico is the Spanish Virgin Islands,
then the U.S. Virgin Islands, then the British Virgin Islands. That is where the real Island hopping is to began. Our plan is to spend several
months in the various Virgin Islands.
To Nassau (November 2007) - The trip would take about 24 hours and we did not want to get to Nassau too early in the morning. We
needed to be able to see. You can enter the harbor at night okay, but once inside the harbor is too tight and crowded to be safe. We also
wanted to make sure our marginal weather window would materialize. The forecast called for 12 to 15 knot winds out of the east. That
meant the Gulf Stream would not have bigger waves from wind against the current, but the wind chop would be four to five feet directly on
our nose. So for all those reasons, we dropped the mooring ball about 8 a.m. and made our way to the south side of Key Biscayne and the
Florida Channel. Our plan was to go out the Florida Channel to check the conditions and, if we didn't think we could take the pounding, we
would turn back and anchor in No Name Harbor (right off the Florida Channel). We finally get to deep water about 10 a.m. and the wind
was about 30 to 40 degrees true off our bow with wind about 12 to 15 knots. Seas were around 4 to 6 feet. So far the forecast was right on.
We had our staysail up to help stabilize the boat and were motoring at about six knots. We expected this combination (wind, seas and sails)
all the way to Nassau, except for smaller waves on the banks for about half the trip. Pounding into waves and wind is no fun, especially if
you have to point so close to the wind and can't sail. The boat would be rolling a lot. After giving it a couple of hours we decided to give it a
go, even though we would be uncomfortable for most of the trip.
We arrived on the Bahama banks close to dark, crossing onto the banks at North Rock north of Bimini. We had just enough light to see the
amazing colors of the shallow water and could see the bottom for about an hour. We had almost forgotten how perfect that sight was. Once
on the banks, the wind died a bit and we had only a light chop. It was also a full moon so the next few hours were really nice. Then, about
midnight (completely unforecast) in the vicinity of Mackie Shoals, the wind kicked up to 20 knots or so and we got bounced around a bit.
However, as if on cue, the wind died to about 10 knots just as we were transiting the Northwest Channel at 2 a.m.. Once through the
Northwest Channel you are off the banks and in Northeast Providence Channel in deep water (from 15 feet on the banks to five to ten
thousand feet all within a few minutes). The deep water was not as rough as we expected and the rest of the trip was uneventful. We
arrived in Nassau about nine a.m. and even got a little sleep along the way.
We stayed in Nassau four days waiting on weather.
Nassau is not our favorite place, but it is perfectly placed as a cross roads in the Bahamas. Even if you wanted to, Nassau is hard to miss.
On a positive note, Nassau is a good place to provision or get repairs.
The Exumas (November 2007 - December 2007) - We left Nassau at nine a.m. We did not want to cross the Yellow Bank before
noon since we needed good light to avoid the scattered coral heads. Besides, it was only 35 miles to Highbourne Cay. We arrived about
three and anchored off a beautiful, perfect beach in perfectly clear water. This is what cruising is all about. The next morning we were off
at daylight to arrive at Warderwick Wells during mid-day. Beautiful. It was hard to leave, but the weather was good for moving. We left at
8 the following morning and got to Staniel Cay at about noon. Beautiful. Leta even got in the water and snorkeled a bit around the boat
(which is a big milestone for her). Next day we were off to Cave Cay. It was a perfect sail at over seven knots and we arrived at a perfect
anchorage during mid-afternoon. Beautiful. Next day, we took off to Georgetown. Our anchorage was really close to Cave Cay cut, so it
was easy to get out to Exuma Sound. The forecast was marginal with 15 to 20 knots really close to the direction we wanted to go. But we
were anxious to get moving and decided to get out to the Sound and decide whether we could stand the pounding we knew we were in for.
We decided to go for it (60 degrees and 15 to 20 knots) and managed to average over 6 and one half knots, despite the five and six foot
waves, for the 5 or 6 hours it took to get to Georgetown. By three or so we were anchored and were exhausted from the beating the wind
and waves had given us. But hey. We were making progress.
We would be waiting in Georgetown until the right weather window to keep moving east and south.
Georgetown (December 2007) - Georgetown is in the southern Exumas but needs its own caption. It's the destination of up to 500 boats
during the winter. Most of those boats make the trip from the states or Canada as fast as they can and stay in Georgetown once they get
there. Even though Elizabeth Harbor is really large, you can withstand bad weather from any direction and the holding is good. I'm
guessing that's why Georgetown has become the winter destination it is.
Most of those 500 boats love it. Once there, you can immerse yourself in the social scene and activities which is tightly coordinated by a
few who see themselves as the organizers and keepers of order. If there, you are expected to follow their rules.
For independent sorts, such as ourselves, the Georgetown social order is a nightmare that we want no part of.
Having said that, we were so far in front of the Georgetown pack, Georgetown was really nice. The anchorage where we were (Hamburger
Beach off Monument Rock) had only four or five boats which would hold at least 30 or 40 at the height of the season. We had a pleasant
three day stay.
On to Turks and Caicos (December 2007) - We were facing an extraordinary weather window. The forecast was for light and variable
winds all the way to the Dominican Republic for several days. That meant no sailing, but no big seas or winds to deal with. Going southeast
from Georgetown is very difficult and time consuming in prevailing conditions. We decided to take the motor sailing opportunity and make
it to Provo in the Turks and Caicos Islands within two days.
We left Georgetown at daylight a few minutes before Chris Parker's 6:30 a.m. broadcast so Leta could talk to him about the forecast while
underway. The forecast was still very mild and we get out of Elizabeth Harbor around 7:00. The large swells that had built during the last
several days were beginning to diminish and we had only long, slow 3 to 4 foot swells until we got around the northern tip of Long Island
about noon (where the swells were about 5 to 6, but still at an 8 or 9 second interval). The wind was behind us (unbelievable - that never
happens) and we had enough wind to keep the main and staysail up until nightfall. We had the engine going at 2200 to 2300 rpm, which
meant our average speed over ground was close to seven knots. About dawn, we see our temporary destination of Mayaguana. It took us
to about noon to get to an anchorage at Southeast Point (only 35 miles from the waypoint at the entrance to the nine mile long Sandbore
Channel that would take us to Provo). The plan was to take a nap and wake up at midnight and get underway early morning to put us at
Sandbore Channel at 8 a.m.
The "Out Island" anchorage at Mayaguana was beautiful. We were perfectly alone, anchored in twenty feet of water in deep sand amongst
coral heads. Leta even put on snorkeling gear (that's twice now). Within a couple of hundred yards the water was 2000 plus feet on one
side and beach on the other. No signs of civilization as far as the eye could see. We were very lucky to spend time at this anchorage.
Under prevailing conditions the swells and wind would make this anchorage dangerous for the same reasons that make it so very special.
As for us, we had seen wind under five knots for at least the last 8 or 10 hours which meant that there was not a ripple on the water. Also,
the swells were from the north (when usually they are from the east) and had diminished to around six to eight feet in at least a ten our
twelve second interval. The anchorage was just a little rolly from the swells coming around the reef at the tip of the island, but not rolly
enough to be uncomfortable. It was about as good as it gets.
Turks and Caicos (December 2007) - We left the perfect anchorage at 2:00 a.m. for the short sail (it was really a motor sail) to Provo.
We get to the Sandbore Channel on schedule at 8:00 a.m. and get to the anchorage at Sapodilla Bay around 10:00. We would be here for a
while. The forecast for the next week was for really strong trades (25 to 35 knots with higher gusts in squalls) with seas approaching 12 or
more feet (no swells this time - a five or six second interval). We would be going nowhere until the winds and seas subsided. We were only
120 miles from the DR, but it might as well be a 1000. This, of course, is the norm for going southeast into the teeth of the trade winds.
We'll just wait and see.
We arrived at Sapodilla Bay on a Thursday and we left at dawn on the second Monday after (yes, eleven days). The weather was terrible
while there. For the first few days the wind was 25 to 30. Then squalls were added to the mix thanks to tropical storm Olga that passed
about 150 miles south of us, so the 25 to 30 became 40 and even 50 during the rain storms One of the four or five boats anchored in
Sapodilla Bay told us that they saw 55 knots during one of the rain storms. To add to the misery, Sapodilla Bay was very rolly which made
it difficult to rest. On the positive side, holding was excellent in soft, deep sand, so we felt very secure in even the worst rain storms.
Having said that, the most terrifying event since we began boating happened during one of the storms. Another sailboat was anchored
about 10 boat lengths in front of us. We watched them come in a couple of days earlier and did not like the way they anchored (not enough
attention to setting the anchor, not enough scope, etc.). At the time we thought about moving but decided that the odds of the wind being in
the exact direction for them to drag down on us was very remote (it is also very rude for someone to anchor in front of you - another reason
we should have moved, but we didn't). Not moving almost turned out to be the biggest mistake we ever made. Well. The story goes like
this. About dark we were slammed by one of those intense squalls that come out of nowhere and slam the &%^$*#@ out of your boat. We
turned on the electronics and the wind was consistently over 40 and we saw a gust up to 50. The rain was so heavy that the late afternoon
sky turned completely white and we could not see anything. We couldn't even see the front of our boat. The rain let up just enough for us
to see a few boat lengths around us and to our horrifying realization the idiot boat was dragging down on us very fast. All we could think
about was the idiot boat crashing into ours, dragging their anchor over ours (making a big mess of anchors and chains) and sinking us right
there. We tried in vain to raise them on VHF. Time and time again, yelling into the radio for them to turn on their engine, do something,
anything. We got one response from the idiot saying that he copied our radio transmission. But he didn't do anything. He wasn't even on
deck. Davy Jones must have been smiling on us that day because the rain let up even more and the wind dropped from 40 to about 25.
They stopped moving. Now the problem was that their boat was sitting right over our anchor. We couldn't do anything except cut our
anchor loose (which we would have done if necessary). I had been standing on the front of the boat in the driving rain, yelling at them, using
the handheld radio trying to talk to them for at least 10 minutes by now (it seemed like hours). They still were not on deck. I tried in vain to
get them to do something, telling them about my anchor, telling them they had to move while the wind was down (believe me 25 knots was
down), to no avail. Finally, the idiot guy comes on deck. I'm yelling, pleading, doing anything I could to get the guy to re-anchor. He finally
goes forward and I begin to breathe a sigh of relief especially when the idiot woman gets in the cockpit and turns on the engine. My
euphoria was short lived. Idiot number one and idiot number two get their anchor up and proceed to go back to the exact same location
where their anchor lay before they started dragging. They drop anchor and start falling back once again very close to being on top of my
anchor. All my yelling and radio pleading obviously did no good with these two. Now I'm looking at two options, actually two good options
except the second one has me relying on my secondary anchor instead of big dog. The best option was to get my anchor up if my anchor
was not under their boat and the second is to cut the anchor loose and retrieve it later. It was dark. The wind and rain was howling. Leta
couldn't see anything I was doing up front. She couldn't hear anything no matter how much I could yell. The headsets worked perfectly
which is why we have the darned things. We could not have managed without them. By now we needed a break. We could calmly talk to
each other, getting the anchor up without chopping off my foot with the anchor chain, she looking at the chartplotter, me seeing what I could
to keep from running over other boats and finally getting the anchor back down and set, just in time for the next 30 to 40 knot squall. After
getting back to the cockpit, we got a call on VHF from one of our acquaintances in the anchorage who witnessed the entire idiot event. He
summed it up beautifully. He said, "I guess you're wet down to your short hairs." All I could do was to say yes. Then we all turned in for a
stormy night.
We see nothing in the Turks and Caicos for the cruiser. The anchorages are all exposed to several directions and marinas are very few and
not suited for transients. You can't even raise them by radio. Most of the cruisers passing through anchor in Sapodilla Bay where we did.
It's nice enough with good holding as I said before, but any wind from south east through the south to the west would be murder. There are
also no services at all. The town of Provo is six miles away and only a small store with a very limited selection of sodas and stuff is within
walking distance. The scenery is also not great and the water is murky. All things considered we would pass on the Turks and Caicos
islands next time. Having said that, if you are on the way from the Bahamas to the Caribbean by way of the DR or Puerto Rico it is really a
must stop unless you get an extraordinary weather window to bypass the Turds and Cacas, as another acquaintance in the anchorage
dubbed the islands. Hope you have better luck when you are there.
Speaking of acquaintances in the anchorage. We are finally getting pretty far off the beaten path, away from the Georgetown crowd and to
places where you meet more seasoned cruisers who are much more independent. We are meeting more and more people we like.
Well. Like I said earlier, we left eleven days after our arrival. We left at dawn with the plan of traversing the Caicos banks eastward. If
we made good time, we would decide on the other side whether we would keep going across the Turks Passage to Big Sand Cay. Once
there we could decide whether to anchor for the night or keep going to Luperon, Dominican Republic. From Big Sand Cay, Luperon is only
80 nautical miles.
One more thing about the Turds and Cacas. The trip across the banks was very pretty. However, coral heads are everywhere. Even within
the so called channels as charted. So, we spent all day keeping a sharp lookout and having to make radical course changes numerous
times. Pass. Pass. Pass.
Dominican Republic (December 2007) - After leaving Sapodilla Bay at dawn, the timing worked out perfectly for the next 24 hours.
We crossed the Caicos banks, arriving at the Turks Passage by mid-afternoon, which would put us at Big Sand Cay about dark. If weather
conditions permitted, we could continue to Luperon, arriving at dawn the next day. One must arrive at Luperon close to dawn because
coastal acceleration will cause whatever gradient wind that exists to increase significantly during the day.
But first we had to cross the Turks Passage. It was only 23 miles to Big Sand, but the Turks Passage is notorious for rough conditions. The
reason is that water from thousands of feet come rushing up to the shallows of the Caicos banks pushed by the equatorial current of up to a
knot or two depending on conditions. Wind was 12 to 15, just enough to kick up enough wind chop on top of the confused swells to make it
miserable for a few hours.
Despite the fun conditions, we get to Big Sand roughly on cue and pulled into the anchorage for a few minutes with no intention of anchoring.
We had decided to keep going to Luperon, but Bogey needed to pee. In the lee of Big Sand the water was smooth and Leta took him out
back on the swim platform with both dog and wife clipped in. The swim platform is much preferable to the inside the head routine for the
dog. We have the aft shower rigged where Bogey can go on his grass, but then you have to clean up after him. It works great for offshore
work, but it's just harder to deal with than the swim platform (so we took advantage of the situation at hand).
After Bogey did his thing, we headed straight for Luperon. As usual going east, the wind was very close to our heading, but the angle was
just enough to keep wind in our main and staysail as we motored at about 2000 rpm. We were glad we had enough wind to stabilize the boat
because it was rough. Neither of us slept much, but we made Luperon just as the sun was creeping up over the horizon. The DR was a big
milestone and we had made it unscathed.
The anchorage at Luperon was the first anchorage since the Chesapeake Bay that was completely protected. We were looking forward to a
peaceful night at anchor with no rocking and rolling. On entering the harbor we were surprised at how crowded it was, but after looking
around for a few minutes we found a good spot with enough swinging room to be comfortable. We needed a nap, but first was clearing
customs and immigration. The DR is definitely a third-world sort of country and we had prepared ourselves for "gifts" to various officials.
Well. It took most of the day to get cleared in. First we had to go to immigration. Then it was customs. Then we had to talk to the "navy"
(there is no navy in the DR) where we were asked to donate a gift. Later agriculture came to our boat (to make sure we didn't have any
nasty food or animals - please, have you ever been to the interior of Mexico). It was ten dollars here, twenty dollars there. Then, a couple
of days later, we had to clear out and pay fees for this and that. We sort of lost count, but the total cost to various government "officials"
was close to $150. Anyway, we got enough documents to keep us legal for a while.
Luperon was an interesting contrast. Firstly, it was beautiful. Mountains all around, just stunning. The town was typical third-world. Lots
of street markets and bars and restaurants. Everything dirty. Open sewers that ultimately made it to the harbor (you don't want to
accidentally fall in here). The people were nice, but they were all trying to figure our how to get money from the rich americans. The harbor
was very calm and at night cold mountain air made its way down to your boat - very comfortable. Despite the negatives, some cruisers stay
for months or even years. The author of The Gentleman's Guide to Passages South, Bruce Van Sant, makes his home here.
Speaking of Passages South. Now is as good a time as any to mention the book. You must have this book to make your way windward in
the southwest North Atlantic and Caribbean. There is no other way to say it. Buy the book. You'll get your ass handed to you if you don't
learn the tricks of the trade winds and follow Van Sant's advice. Just get the book.
We were planning to stay a few days, or even weeks if necessary for the proper weather window. Making your way east along the northern
coast of the DR and on to Puerto Rico is one of the toughest slugs in the trip southeast. It turned out that we had several days of settled
weather forecast with light trades only after being in the DR for a couple of days. After that the weather patterns looked like weeks of
strong trades. It was either now or waiting for quite some time. It was now for us.
Van Sant says to make several stops in the DR (going at night to take advantage of the night lee), but the weather was so light we decided
to make no stops and once we rounded the northeast corner of the DR, go directly to Puerto Rico. That would take 48 hours. We left at
dusk and motor sailed the north coast of the DR and arrived at Escondido at about 2:00 the following afternoon. We paused there without
anchoring until five because we didn't want to round the point at Samana Bay until late afternoon (the night lee thing). We would have
preferred to anchor for a few hours instead of bouncing around in the swell all afternoon, but we had no interest in getting boarded by
"officials" with their hands out once again.
So. We round the point, and head for Puerto Rico skirting the Hourglass Shoal to the northeast and then taking a rumbline to Boqueron.
The weather was fairly light, but the Mona Passage is another one of those notorious rough spots because of current and severe depth
contours. That's why you stay clear of Hourglass Shoal. It's not really a shoal - the shallowest depth is probably a hundred feet, but it's
next to a five thousand foot drop off, etc. It was a long night, but we actually got a little sleep (it's always easier the second night out).
Then, around dawn, the wind died completely and it was a calm motor sail the rest of the trip. We arrived at Boqueron about 2:30 in the
afternoon and were anchored by three. Puerto Rico was the biggest milestone to date. From here, even though there is a lot of windward
work still to go, the trips are relatively short hops of 15 to 20 miles. Immediately to the east of Puerto Rico is the Spanish Virgin Islands,
then the U.S. Virgin Islands, then the British Virgin Islands. That is where the real Island hopping is to began. Our plan is to spend several
months in the various Virgin Islands.
 | |  | |  | |  | |  | |  | |  | |  |
| Atlantis resort from the Nassau Harbor side |
| Beach at Highbourne Cay |
| Sailing on the Banks to Cave Cay |
| Monument Rock, Georgetown |
| Dead calm on the southside of Mayaguana |
| Crystal clear water at Mayaguana anchorage |
| Approaching Dominican Republic at dawn |
| Anchorage in Luperon |
| Dominican Republic coast |