Isla Culebrita

Amanda took the ferry from Culebra to mainland Puerto Rico to fetch Margaret who flew into San Juan on Friday afternoon. They spent Friday night in San Juan, took surfing lessons Saturday morning and took the $2 ferry back to Culebra Saturday afternoon. They seemed to have a great time surfing despite the bruises. While they were sightseeing in San Juan, I was continuing with the boat chores. I installed a 40 amp alternator on the genset which promptly broke off after about an hour running. And I reinstalled the reef lines, only to find that I had installed the shorter of the two reef lines as the second reef line so it was too short. We had bought new lines for the reef lines, the red reef line was previously the second reef, the green reef line was the first reef. I guess the previous owner had damaged the second reef line and moved it to the first reef line (which is shorter). Anyway the bottom line is that the colors are reversed which will take some getting used to. I had to fish the lines through the boom twice which was a major pain in the butt.

I was waiting for the girls at Mamacita's after the 3pm ferry but got tired of waiting by 4:30 and went looking for them. The ferry had just arrived and we met just as they had gotten off the ferry. We had a few drinks at Mamacita's before going back to the boat. One of Mamacita's signature drinks is the bushwacker which they charge $8 for. I was watching the bartender make them and realized we had all the ingredients on the boat. Equal parts vodka, rum, baileys, amaretto, kahlua, and coco lopez. Delicious. After a pitcher of bushwackers we dinghyed back to Mamacita's for dinner which was also delicous.

Sunday morning we took the publico to Flamenco beach and lounged around for a few hours enjoying the wonderful water and beach. We don't often make the effort to make a special trip to the beach living on the boat, but had a great time. The water was warm and calm and we had pina coladas and empanadas.

After returning to the boat we had our Thanksgiving dinner. Amanda made turkey, stuffing, mashed potatos, gravy, cranberry, pumpkin pie (from scratch!) and we had picked up some bread at the local Culebra bakery, Pandeli. It was a delicious dinner and we are still enjoyin the leftovers. We tried to run the air conditioning to counteract the heat generated by the oven, but the boat gods had other plans. After about an hour, the main drive belt on the genset broke.

Monday we wanted to show Margaret some more of the local environs and so headed over to Isla Culebrita. The typical anchorage is on the north side, but since there were 5 ft northerly swells it was a bit too rough on the north side. We saw a bunch of empty moorings on the south side so picked one up. We literally have the whole island to ourselves. There is no one else here. The south side has a lot of coral and we enjoyed snorkeling for a while. Margaret spotted a 6 ft nurse shark which was exciting. After snorkeling for a while, the girls read their books and I fixed the generator (sucessfully). Amazingly we are miles from mainland Culebra, but I am still managing to pick up a wi-fi signal. We brought a great wi-fi antenna back to the boat, and it has already paid for itself in the first week. I can see a couple houses on the hill a few miles from here, so we must be picking up one of them.

Tomorrow (Tuesday) we are planning to sail down to the south coast of Vieques and explore some of the anchorages down there before delivering Margaret back to San Juan to fly home on Saturday.

Happy Thanksgiving!

The past couple of days have been a final push to get the boat ready before my sister Margaret comes for a visit on the 27th. We managed to put the sails back on, reinstall the main lazy jacks, flag halyards, and jib topping lift, maintained the winches, and a bunch of other things. Kevin went up the mast twice to reinstall various lines which we had taken down in preparation for hurricane season. We try to be as productive as possible from 7am until it gets too hot to do anything. It's been soul-suckingingly hot and humid here. We have a weatherstation/clock that tells you the temp (88-plus degrees inside the boat) and the humidity (50 to 60 percent). It also has an indicator that is either a happy face or sad face depending on conditions (temperature, humidity, barometric pressure, etc.). We have yet to see the happy face displayed. :(

We are anchored in a harbor lined with mangroves so the mosquitoes are unrelenting as well. One of the bartenders at Mamacita's calls Off! the "eau de Culebra" because everyone has to wear it to keep the bugs at bay. This morning we had Thanksgiving brunch at Mamacita's; they had awesome food and the drinks (bushwhackers) were just what we needed. Tonight we are grilling steaks on Solstice. Happy Thanksgiving everyone!

Carlos Rosario Marine Preserve, Culebra

We left the Puerto del Rey Marina at first light on Sunday, making the three-hour passage to Culebra under power. Both engines seemed to be working fine and neither one was belching black smoke so that's always good.

The past few days have been spent fixing the genset (Kevin) and cleaning up the interior of the boat (me). Kevin spent a backbreaking day hunched over in the genset locker, cleaning parts, fixing connectors, and sweating like crazy. His hard work paid off, as he was able to get the engine to turn over after seven straight hours of labor. We now can recharge our batteries when they get low, which means that we can run the watermaker (which also works -- hooray) to keep our tanks topped off. Kevin definitely has the magic touch when it comes to anything mechanical. He is ecstatic to be back on the boat and in his element.

For me it has been more of a struggle. First off, every cabinet, closet, locker and interior storage space was filled with what looks like light yellow dust but is actually mold. Every time I opened a new cupboard I was thoroughly appalled and disgusted by what I saw (and smelled). I had a few minor psychological breakdowns. I didn't want to touch anything, let alone cook and sleep here! Eventually I just threw on a respirator and started cleaning. All the dishes and galley cupboards are now spotless and I've worked my way through about 80% of the rest of the boat. It's slow going but I am getting there.

Yesterday afternoon we were able to do some snorkeling. We are on a mooring in a marine preserve and the reef is just a few hundred feet from the boat. The coral heads are teeming with sea life. We've pretty much had the place to ourselves except for a couple of daycharter snorkeling excursions. Today after lunch we will head into Dewey (the only town on the island of Culebra). Hopefully there will be a package waiting for us containing the parts Kevin needs to fix both toilets.

Leaving the Marina

[Kevin's Post]After five hectic days in the marina we are ready to get going. Everything is put away and all the critical systems appear to be working. I fixed the instruments this morning, there was a corroded connector on the autopilot preventing any of the instruments from getting power. I got one of the toilets working, after tearing it apart four times. Ironically, afterwards I found a big box of spare parts for the toilets that would have solved all my problems. I had already ordered spare parts which will be waiting for us in Culebra. Between the newly found parts and the new parts I ordered I should be able to get the other one working. Aren't you glad your toilets work on gravity alone? Ok, I know, enough about the toilets.

Some ex-boater friends of ours, Mike and Renee, previously of Jacumba, are now living in St. Kitts and stopped by Solstice while they were in Puerto Rico doing some shopping. It is difficult or even impossible to find decent clothing, housewares, etc., at reasonable prices on many islands in the Caribbean. Many locals will travel to Puerto Rico just to go shopping, or have family bring things while they are visiting. It was fun catching up with them and hearing about life on St. Kitts. We had some drinks on the boat, then went to a local pizza place.

Tomorrow if all goes as planned, we are motoring about 20 miles to the west coast of Culebra. We haven't had time to put the sails on yet, but since our destination is straight upwind it doesn't make much difference. Trying to sail straight upwind on windpower alone is way too much work for anyone but the purist. Besides, it will be a good shakedown for the engines after their lengthy storage.

In the Water

[Kevin's Post]We couldn't have asked for better weather for our launch than what we had yesterday. There was hardly a cloud in the sky and very light winds. We were both pretty nervous about maneuvering the boat for the first time in 18 months and discovering exactly what equipment did and did not work. Our objectives for the day were to back the boat out of the travelift bay, head over to the fuel dock to top off the diesel, and tie up in our slip. Hopefully without hitting anything. I had run both the diesel engines for a while in the yard, so I knew the engines would at least start, but we weren't sure what other problems might appear. Before we were even in the water we discovered that all the navigation instruments were dead. No depth sounder, no wind speed, no wind direction. Wind speed and wind direction are useful tidbits of information when trying to dock a 10 ton boat. Fortunately the wind was light so the lack of instrumentation wouldn't complicate things too much. We backed out of the bay and were pleased to discover that the transmissions on both engines seemed to be working just fine. We were also pleased to discover that the starboard engine was no longer belching black smoke like it was before we put the boat in storage. I had spent a day in the yard replacing the exhaust elbow on this engine thinking that it might be the problem and apparently it was. We docked at the fuel dock like old pros and after fueling radioed ahead for some dockhands to help us tie up in the slip. The whole thing was fairly anticlimactic really.

After we were secure in the slip, we began to test the equipment we couldn't check out in the yard. We were relieved to find that the air conditioning worked just fine and also the water pump (for the faucets, showers, etc.) The outboard doesn't look or sound pretty (it never did), but at least it started up and runs in forward and reverse. Neither of the toilets are working and the port shower sump is DOA also. So, it looks like we will be using the marina facilities for a while until I can fix these problems.

It would have been nice to relax after 5 days toiling in the boat yard, but we only had the car for another 24 hours so had to hurry and provision the boat. We were up very late last night and early again this morning trying to organize in the hours we couldn't be out shopping. Today it was go, go, go as we tried to hit Sam's Club, Grande (local grocery store), K-mart, West Marine, Pep-Boys, and also get the propane refilled. Miraculously, we managed to get all our errands done and return the car on time. We'll spend the next few days getting things organized and making repairs and hopefully leave the marina after the weekend.

The marina is very large and has a golf cart service that picks you up and drops you off at your boat. Today we shared a cart with a couple on another boat a few slips down and they invited us over for drinks this evening. We took some rum we had bought in St. Vincent a couple years ago and spent the evening chit-chatting about boating life and sipping rum & cokes. Not a bad end to our first day back in the water.

Go for launch!

[Kevin's Post] Solstice is officially ready to splash tomorrow. If they can get the travelift to the boat without getting stuck in the mud. That's a big "if". We awoke this morning to the sound of thunder and pouring rain and knew it wasn't going to be a pleasant day in the yard. Driving to the boatyard the roads were so bad I was wondering if we were going to end up as one of those half submerged disabled vehicles we always see on the local news in AZ during monsoon season. With every puddle I'm thinking, "I wonder how deep that is?" The water pressure in the storm drains was enough that we saw at least one manhole cover that had come off and others had geysers coming through them shooting several feet in the air. There were plenty of Puerto Ricans out driving though so I figured it was safe enough, and we did make it to the yard just fine. We are very motivated to get this boat in the water. If it rains much more, the water will come to the boat and we won't need the lift.

We spent the rainy day finishing a few odd chores and organizing the interior of the boat. There has hardly been room to walk around for the past several days as every square inch of floor space was covered with stuff we hauled in from Phoenix. So we made the best of the rainy weather by focusing on interior chores. We also needed to make room for provisions. Before we head out for any length of time, we try to stock up on as much non-perishable and frozen food as we can fit on the boat. Every place we go generally has small markets, but the choices are limited and prices are high. In Puerto Rico, the grocery stores are excellent, other islands not so much. They even have Sam's Club here. It's not quite like your Sam's club, they sell stuff like whole pigs and septic tanks in addition to the regular fare. We made one trip to Sam's Club today to get the unrefrigerated items and spent almost $700. We'll go again for cold/frozen items either tomorrow or Wednesday. I'm still looking for someplace I can store a pig on the boat.

If all goes as planned, tomorrow we will be sleeping on the boat in a slip at the marina. Keep your fingers crossed.

We're Gonna Need a Bigger Bolt

It's Sunday afternoon and I am sitting in the air-conditioned hotel room typing this, while Kevin is toiling away at the boatyard in the hot Puerto Rican sun. He won't allow me to help work on the boat today, but more on that later.

Yesterday morning started off so smoothly. We had found exactly the type of oil Kevin needed for the two saildrives. We had also discovered a leftover can of bottom paint from our last haulout that was three-quarters full. It will be just barely enough to cover the bows and transoms and a few other areas that are bare to the gelcoat. Kevin got to work on changing the saildrive oil while I started masking for painting the bottom. I was just finishing that task when I heard some quiet cursing coming from under the saildrive. Moments later, Kevin walked up and said "We are screwed. I stripped the threads on the port saildrive plug." He was holding a tiny bolt in his hand and I said, "That's no problem, I'm sure you can take that bolt over to the chandlery and find another one that's a similar size and shape." He shook his head, "No, you don't understand. I didn't strip the threads on the bolt, I stripped the threads INSIDE the saildrive itself." Oh. This was a major problem. The saildrives are the parts that attach the propellers to the diesel engines. They are underwater all the time so the bolt has to fit perfectly to prevent water getting in, but it also has to be removable so that you can change the saildrive oil every year or so. Our saildrives are old models that aren't sold anymore, and even if they were it would be very expensive to replace the whole drive. So Kevin was right. We were indeed screwed.

Of course these types of things always happen on a weekend so the Volvo mechanic Kevin tried calling did not pick up. After quite a bit of thought, Kevin went to Sears with the idea of picking up a tapping set to make a bigger hole in the saildrive. Risky, but what else could we do? He also went into the office to postpone our launch two more days, to Tuesday instead of Sunday. While he did that I took an inventory of all the canned food we had left aboard the boat. Note to self: next time don't leave ANYTHING edible aboard. Most of the cans were fine but very rusty on the outside (yuck). But there were a few where the tops and bottoms were puffing out. Mmm...botulism, anyone? So quite a few cans went into the garbage bin. I'm still not sure we want to eat the stuff that's in the rusty cans, but we'll clean them off and see if they're okay, I guess.

Kevin returned with a tapping set and a slightly bigger bolt and started work on drilling out the hole in the saildrive. Meanwhile I kept going with the prep work for painting. I began wet sanding the areas where the new coats of paint would go and by the time I'd finished, Kevin was also done with the new threads for the new bolt. After shortening the new bolt with a hacksaw, it fit perfectly. Way to go, Kevin! We had an hour left until the yard closed so we wanted to get at least one coat of paint on. We were both painting, but I was wearing a bunny suit which was very hot. Stupidly, neither one of us were wearing masks. After forty-five minutes I started feeling headachy and nauseated from the fumes and went to sit in the shade. Kevin finished up the first coat himself and we cleaned up and went back to the hotel, which is where the fun started.

We both showered and were planning to celebrate our saildrive victory at a local sit-down restaurant, rather than yet another night of fast food. But what's that saying? "If you want to make God laugh, make plans". Before we could leave for dinner my headache went from mild to severe and I was soon puking my guts out. Kevin did a quick internet search on my symptoms and suspected I had heat exhaustion and dehydration, so he ran out to get some gatorade and pedialyte. But I couldn't even keep two sips of any liquid down without making another mad dash to the bathroom. It felt like the mother of all hangovers. After four hours of misery, Kevin finally convinced me that we had to go to the hospital.

We drove to the hospital around 10pm, past an odd gathering of fifty or so men on horseback weaving in and out of traffic (???! At first I thought I was hallucinating, but Kevin saw it too so I guess that's just the typical party scene on Saturday night in Fajardo). We managed to find the ER and there were a few staffers who spoke English, thankfully. The doctor advised that I was definitely dehydrated from not drinking enough water, but that the paint fumes were what probably did me in. I was given a bag of IV fluids laced with pepcid and reglan to quell the nausea. (Which, ironically, were the exact same medications we gave to our cat Boris every day for the last few months of his life...it was weird to be on the other end of the needles this time). It didn't take long for me to start feeling much better and by 2am the fluids had finished. I was discharged and we headed back to the hotel and fell into bed, exhausted.

So today poor Kevin is slaving away at the boat, while I lounge at the hotel. He plans to put a couple more coats of paint on (while wearing a MASK this time!) and run both engines. So it's not a total disaster and we are making some progress. In fact I *think* we might even still launch on Tuesday as planned, but I can faintly hear God laughing (and I can CLEARLY hear loud peals of thunder) so we'll just have to wait and see what old Solstice throws at us next.

"Life of Leisure": Day Two

I won't bore you all with the long litany of tasks we had set for ourselves this morning. Instead let me summarize: if it moves and it's not supposed to, use duct tape; if it doesn't move and it should, break out the WD-40. That last part came in very handy today. Seized bolts were the theme of the day: three bolts on the starboard engine, every bolt on the "Beast" (our dinghy outboard), the zippers on the dodger were stuck, the windlass would not budge an inch, and even the lock to the front door needed a jolt of dubya-dee.

Did I mention that it was 91 degrees (a record) with 69 percent humidity? Recently living through two dry Arizona summers did not prepare us for the amount of perspiration a single person can generate in those conditions. Kevin was soaked through by 9:30 am. He valiantly replaced the starboard exhaust elbow while standing in an ever-expanding puddle of his own sweat (the ambient temp inside the boat was considerably hotter and more humid than the daily forecast). I was ankle-deep in squishy mud while cleaning the waterline and I kept smelling this awful smell...by midday I realized with horror that it was me -- not the mud -- that reeked. Ah, this glamorous life!

Back to Work

This morning we arrived at the boatyard with a mix of anticipation and dread. Funny thing about boats: parts break, rust, seize, and/or disintegrate whether you are using it constantly or not. So we weren't sure what to expect after eighteen months of Solstice sitting idle.

The day started off with a light drizzle. It's been raining all week so when we pulled up to the boat we saw that it was perched above a shallow sea of mud and muck. We climbed up the ladder and removed our flip-flops immediately so as not to track gunk everywhere. We needn't have bothered. The cockpit was covered in sludgy slime and small pebbles. There was even a small garden of weeds sprouting on the underside of the bimini ceiling. With a sigh we went to the door. There on the doormat was a soggy dead tree frog. No joke. I think I actually said to Kevin, "You know, we don't have to go inside. We could just turn around and go back home. No one has to know." But Kevin could not be tempted.

Our spirits were lifted the minute we opened the door. First off, and most importantly, the boat did NOT smell like bilge and mildew (much). So that was a great start. Other pleasant surprises were that our new wi-fi antenna and flat-panel TV had both arrived without incident and were waiting for us in the salon. Priorities, right? So we got straight to work unloading the van with all our luggage (three fifty-pound duffle bags). Then it was time for the moment of truth: removing the new table from the crate. Kevin had packed it so well it was practically encased in carbonite. We had to rip the spray foam off in chunks before we finally got to the saran-wrapped table itself. Not a scratch...success!!!

Elated from that small victory we got to work re-installing the trampolines. The entire front of the boat is made up of two big sheets of mesh instead of hard fiberglass. We had removed both of them for hurricane season, which made walking around on deck kind of risky since neither of us wanted to start off cruising season with a nasty fall. While we were working on that, our boat caretaker Betsy rolled up and apologized for not having the boat decks clean and ready for us before we got here. She then proceeded to thoroughly clean every surface of the boat exterior. So overall we are pretty pleased with the shape the boat is in. Don't get me wrong, there are a million things to do in the next few days before we can get the boat back in the water: change about five differnt kinds of oil, run the engines, re-install the outboard, un-seize the windlass, load the anchor chain, and wax the fiberglass to name a few. Oh, and touch up the bottom paint. Which is going to be difficult since we just found out that our brand of bottom paint was discontinued at some point in the last eighteen months. Oh well. The yard closed at five and we had hot showers and cable TV waiting for us back at the hotel. There's only so much you can do in a day.

Puerto Rico!

[Kevin's Post] Our day began today at 4:30 AM Phoenix time, and now sixteen hours later I'm laying in bed in Fajardo listening to the tree frogs which are so loud even the blasting air conditioning can't drown them out. Back in Phoenix we spent the last several days packing up the nearly 300 pounds of junk we wanted to bring to the boat. Our bags must have been a TSA nightmare with a wide variety of unusual metal and electronic items scattered among dive gear, books, clothes, and other sundries. I think we have about half a diesel engine in there. Each of our three duffels were carefully weighed and arranged to come in just under the 50 lb limit. Adding to the fun was the 85lb crate containing the new boat table. I've been worrying about how we were going to get this to the boat for months now, turns out the cheapest way was to just check it as baggage and pay the oversize/overweight fees. I had to custom design the crate specifically to come in under the max weight and dimensions allowed by American Airlines. The whole table is encased in spray-in polyurethane foam and sandwiched between two pieces of plywood. At check-in we explained that it was a table. The woman checking us in said she always travels with her table too. Everyone's a comedian. I haven't opened the crate yet, but judging from the outside it appears to be in pretty good shape.

We didn't arrive in San Juan until 8:30PM local time and by the time we got to Fajardo it was nearly 11, so we haven't been to see the boat yet. That will be first on the agenda tomorrow. We are spending a few nights in a hotel until we can get the boat in the water. We were tentatively planning to launch on Saturday, but the forecast is for unusually rainy weather due to the remnants of Hurricane Ida, so that will probably slow down our preparations. Driving to Fajardo, everything seemed pretty dry so we're hoping the forecast is wrong. Tomorrow will be an interesting day, as we discover what kind of condition the boat is in after sitting unused for 18 months. More to come. . .

Packing our bags. . .

[Kevin's Post] Wow, you're still checking our blog? Well, your persistence has paid off because things are starting to get interesting again. Hurricane season 2009 is coming to a close and after an 18 month hiatus we are preparing to head back to the boat in November, a year later than we originally planned. Our cat & crewmate, Boris, was diagnosed with chronic kidney failure shortly after our return to Phoenix. So, we decided to take a season off to let him live out his remaining days in comfort and also to work and replenish the coffers a bit.

New Boat Table

We've enjoyed our time back on land, there's a lot to be said for air conditioning, electricity, and American grocery stores. I apparently couldn't handle not having boat projects to consume my time, so I managed to find a boat project I could work on in Phoenix. I built a new salon table for the boat. I've always hated the table on the boat which is just plain gray formica. I wanted a nice wood tabletop that would match the rest of the interior woodwork on the boat. So, I designed and built a new table made of cherry with a maple inlay. In the process I managed to cut my thumb with a chisel requiring hand surgery. Yep, three years on a boat with no problems, I come home and suffer a major injury on a boat project. Anyway, the table turned out pretty good, you can hardly see the blood stains.

The front room of our house has a growing mound of engine parts, watermaker filters, boat electronics, and assorted other boating paraphernalia. The UPS guy is well familiar with our address since he is making pretty much daily deliveries. All of this is going to get packed up and carted to PR in November. Between the two of us, we can bring four 50 pound bags, and I plan to use every last pound of our checked baggage allowance. The table is too big to check as baggage, so I am going to have to build a crate for it and ship it to PR by freight (hopefully keeping all 10 fingers in the process).

You may have noticed that our blog format has changed a bit. The banner at the top now shows Solstice's current location along with the local weather conditions. We can report our location by texting twitter and it will automatically update the blog, so our location reports should be more frequent now. On the left, you see a random slideshow of photos taken by other people within 5 miles of Solstice's location. This will give you some idea of what the vicinity of the boat looks like. Remember, we didn't take these and have no idea what might pop up here, so if you see a fat guy in a thong, don't blame us. Also on the left is a marine weather forecast. On the right is the same old filmstrip of recent photos, but now if you mouseover them you'll see a larger version with a description. I hope you've got broadband. I've tested all this in IE 7/8, Firefox and Chrome so hopefully the new content works for everybody.

We're planning to spend the entire cruising season (Nov-June) in the area of Puerto Rico and the US/British Virgin Islands. After seeing pretty much the entire Eastern Caribbean, this area is one of our favorites. There are lots of great anchorages, awesome diving, restaurants and bars, boat facilities, and grocery stores. Also, having US mail service nearby makes shipping parts and getting mail easy. Flying in and out of San Juan is cheap and convenient ($450 from Phoenix) so we are hoping to have plenty of visitors. Now accepting reservations . . .

Hurricane Omar

Well, Solstice continues to have adventures despite the absence of the crew. Early forecasts had Omar going directly over Fajardo, PR (where Solstice is), but fortunately it veered east slightly missing us by 70 miles. 40 boats sank or were washed ashore in St. Croix.

Phoenix, AZ

[Kevin's Post]Since we last posted, Amanda and I have reluctantly returned to the real world for what we hope will be a brief visit. In three weeks we managed to undo three years of change. We are back in our old house, we have purchased an entire house's worth of furniture and housewares, bought a car, bought new clothes, and are commuting daily with laptops in hand to jobs in the same offices we left 3 years ago. We have spent so much money in the past month that our credit cards have been suspended four times on suspicion of fraud. A lot has happened since Culebra, so here are the highlights . . .

We limped into Puerto Del Rey Marina on Saturday April 26 using just one engine for the 3 hour trip from Culebra. Fortunately there was very little wind so docking in the marina on one engine was no problem. We were pleasantly surprised by the facilities here, the marina is very nice and surprisingly inexpensive. The next day we hauled the boat out at 9 am (yes on a Sunday believe it or not) and were even more impressed by the boatyard than the marina. Benny, the lift operator, actually lifted and lowered the boat twice before he got the lift straps where he wanted them. They were equally careful blocking the boat in the yard and tapped the length of the keels with a hammer to try to determine the strongest parts.

Then the fun really started. We had 3 1/2 days of backbreaking work getting the boat fully prepared for hurricane season. We completely stripped the boat of anything that might be damaged by hurricane force winds. Sails off, dodger off, trampoline off, wind generator off, antennas off, dinghy and outboard off. If it could be taken off, we took it off and stowed it below. We had to prep the engines and outboard for 6 months of non-use. We had to empty the fridge and freezer and defrost. We had to get rid of all our food that wasn't in glass containers or canned. We laundered all our bedding and clothes that would be staying on the boat. And most importantly we had to strap the boat down to the ground so that it wouldn't blow away. This yard has giant concrete blocks poured into the ground with 1" rebar loops for this purpose.

We know several people that have hauled their boats here during hurricane season and they all recommended and spoke very highly of a boat caretaker named Betsy Risto. So we got in touch with her and arranged for her to look after the boat while we are away. She was very helpful in getting the boat ready and even took our outboard and gas cans to her home for safekeeping. For our last night in Puerto Rico, Betsy invited us to her home for dinner and drinks. Betsy and her husband, Ronnie, are ex-boaters that settled in Puerto Rico many years ago. They live on an incredible 3 acres of land on the edge of the El Yunque rainforest. They have 5 dogs, 2 horses, and more cats than I could keep track of. Their land has to be seen to be believed, it is at the top of a hill with incredible views in every direction. They have banana trees, advocado trees, coconut palms, and orchids everywhere. Ronnie took great pleasure in showing us around the property and explaining how all of the fruit trees just grew on their own with no help. An advocado falls off one tree rolls down the hill and creates a new tree. We fed bananas to the horses, and watched the dogs chase after coconuts as if they were tennis balls. Betsy and Ronnie made delicious ribs and potato salad for dinner, and we had a great send off.

While all the boat preparations were going on, we also had to prepare to fly back to Phoenix with a cat. Our cat carrier was too big to fit under the seat so we needed a soft carrier. After looking everywhere we could think of in Puerto rico and not finding one, we were kicking ourselves for not buying one we saw in St. Croix. We tried to order one and have it express shipped, but the shipper screwed up and shipped it a day late, then UPS wouldn't deliver it because it didn't like the address (which was correct). So we had to scramble in the last day and finally lucked out finding one at a tiny hole in the wall pet store. Boris wasn't happy spending 15 hours in a tiny carrier, but he survived. Now he has traveled over 15,000 miles by car, boat and plane, and visited 20 countries.

Back in Phoenix, we were pleasantly surpised to find our house still standing after being rented out for nearly 3 years. No rest for the weary though, we only had 4 business days to get our lives in order before starting work full-time. We ran all over Phoenix looking for a suitable car and ordering furniture. It probably would have been fun if we had more time to do it. It's been two weeks now and we are still waiting on most of our furniture to arrive. But we have the essentials: A mattress on the floor, a couch, and of course two 42" flat panel televisions.

Well, that's it for now. We plan to be in Phoenix for the duration of hurricane season. So mark your calendars, the adventure continues in November.

Where is Solstice?:
Location=Fajardo, Puerto Rico
Lat=18 16.964
Lon=65 38.221

Culebra, Puerto Rico

After spending the night at Buck Island we motorsailed over to Isla Culebra, one of the Spanish Virgin Islands. Unfortunately one of our engines is down for the count and is puffing out black smoke in the exhaust. This is the engine where we used Kevin's dress sock as the air filter, so at first we thought maybe it wasn't getting enough air flow, but taking off the sock didn't stop the smoke. So now we think it may be an injector problem. It's always something... Anyway, luckily our other engine worked fine; it's nice to have the redundancy of two engines.

We anchored just off the town of Dewey because they have decent wireless internet here. Starwood Hotels has a programming project that Kevin is doing some work on, so we needed to be sure there was good wifi. Starwood also has another project that starts in May and would require both of us, so we've decided to go ahead and haul the boat earlier than planned and head home to Phoenix for the next six months. It all works out: the tenants just moved out of our house, Starwood has some interesting work for us to do, and most importantly it is starting to get hot and humid which is our least favorite boat weather. So we've pushed up our boat storage plans and have commenced a major "eat down" to empty the freezer and pantry. We haul out on Sunday and will spend three days getting the boat prepped for hurricane season before we fly home on Thursday (Boris's first plane ride, that'll be fun). Then we'll just need to buy some acceptable work clothing, since we gave everything to Goodwill before we left for the boat...cut-offs and flip-flops aren't considered business casual, are they?

Where we are:
Location=Isla Culebra, Puerto Rico
Lat=18 18.365
Lon=65 17.851

Isla Culebra, Puerto Rico

After spending the night at Buck Island we motorsailed over to Isla Culebra, one of the Spanish Virgin Islands. Unfortunately one of our engines is down for the count and is puffing out black smoke in the exhaust. This is the engine where we used Kevin's dress sock as the air filter, so at first we thought maybe it wasn't getting enough air flow, but taking off the sock didn't stop the smoke. So now we think it may be an injector problem. It's always something... Anyway, luckily our other engine worked fine; it's nice to have the redundancy of two engines.

We anchored just off the town of Dewey because they have decent wireless internet here. Starwood Hotels has a programming project that Kevin is doing some work on, so we needed to be sure there was good wifi. Starwood also has another project that starts in May and would require both of us, so we've decided to go ahead and haul the boat earlier than planned and head home to Phoenix for the next six months. It all works out: the tenants just moved out of our house, Starwood has some interesting work for us to do, and most importantly it is starting to get hot and humid which is our least favorite boat weather. So we've pushed up our boat storage plans and have commenced a major "eat down" to empty the freezer and pantry. We haul out on Sunday and will spend three days getting the boat prepped for hurricane season before we fly home on Thursday (Boris's first plane ride, that'll be fun). Then we'll just need to buy some acceptable work clothing, since we gave everything to Goodwill before we left for the boat...cut-offs and flip-flops aren't considered business casual, are they?

Where we are:
Location=Isla Culebra, Puerto Rico
Lat=18 18.365
Lon=65 17.851

Buck Island, St. Croix

[Kevin's Post]Saturday we planned to fuel up and head out to Buck Island, one of St. Croix's major attractions, en route to Culebra. We were about to head over to the fuel dock when Amanda noticed there was a megayacht docked there. She called over to the marina office to see how long they would be and was told they would be there until Monday. Bummer. I had been looking forward to fueling up here since they have the cheapest fuel north of Venezuela (there is an oil refinery on the island). So we tossed our 5 jerry cans in the dinghy deciding that some was better than none and decided to at least get 25 gallons the hard way. Someone from the marina helped us fill our jerry cans and when they were all full he announced that we had taken on 29.97 gallons. What!? Our jerry cans hold 5 gallons each (plus a little extra if you go over the fill line). 5 x 5 still equals 25 right? Now I can probably squeeze an extra half gallon into each can if I fill all the way to the spout(which I did not), but there is no possible way I can fit a full 6 gallons into a 5 gallon jerry can. I figured it was pointless to argue with the guy, so I paid for the fuel and decided it was a blessing in disguise that the megayacht was there and we couldn't take on more than 25 gallons (or 30 if you ask the marina). So, if you decide to buy fuel at St. Croix Marine, be forewarned that you will be paying for 10-20% more fuel than you are actually getting. It was still cheaper than the $6/gallon we paid a week earlier in Antigua.

After our fuel fiasco, we hauled up the anchor and motored the 5 miles over to Buck Island. One of our guide books claims that Buck Island has some of the best snorkeling in the world. We were a bit skeptical of that, but after snorkeling there we agreed that it was the best snorkeling we've ever seen - in the Caribbean at least. Hopefully, the photos give some idea of what it was like. There was gigantic elkhorn coral growing 30 feet high, and many more fish than you typically see snorkeling. We saw at least 6 barracuda. There is an underwater snorkel trail with signs labeling different types of fish and telling you which direction to swim. It was definitely worth a stop.

Where we are:
Location=Buck Island, St. Croix
Lat=17 47.238
Lon=64 36.575

St. Croix - Sea Horses?

Kevin and I spent all kinds of money on dive equipment so that we could dive whenever/wherever we wanted, and we still seem to always end up paying to go with a dive shop and instructor. St. Croix has an overwhelming number of dive sites, many of which are accessible from the beach, so we decided that for sure we would dive on our own here. So on Wednesday morning we loaded our gear into the rental car and drove over to Cane Bay (on the north side of the island).

We could tell right away that this was a very popular spot. We kept seeing groups of divers crossing the road in full dive gear, walking down the beach, and then disappearing into the water. We donned our gear and headed out. The wall is about 50 yards out from the beach, so we snorkeled over there so as not to waste any dive air. Swimming with 30 pounds of gear on your back is not recommended. I was exhausted by the time we got over there and then I noticed some other divers who were actually swimming backwards so that their tanks were floating under them instead of on their backs. Clever. And much, much easier. When I finally caught my breath we descended next to a marker buoy showing where the wall begins. Right at the bottom was a strange sight. Someone had installed a carousel horse down there. The pole was embedded in the sand and the horse just looked so absurd -- I was kicking myself for not bringing the camera along on the dive. The rest of the dive was good, lots of big corals and sponges but we didn't get to see any actual sea horses -- too bad. We had a bit of a scare when one of the other divers who was down there decided to spear a fish with his spear gun. I looked around and realized that there was at least one other diver who was also swimming around, spear gun at the ready. Holy crap, isn't diving an exciting enough sport as it is? These guys were spearing fish and waving around the bloody bodies as though they were *trying* to attract the attention of some hungry shark. Idiots. Plus, it's just dirty pool to use the advantage of being able to breathe underwater to kill fish. It doesn't seem as sporting as if they were free diving. Anyway, we swam as far and as fast away from the bloodbath as we could.

When we finished the dive, we were going to eat lunch while our tanks were being refilled, but as it turns out both tanks were due for a visual inspection and the dive shop wouldn't fill them without it. The lady said the tanks would be ready the next day, so we left them there and headed back to our boat. We were relaxing in the cockpit after finishing the chore of rinsing down all the dive gear. I noticed something very odd in the water. I pointed and asked Kevin, "Is that...a horse?" Sure enough, somebody was swimming laps around the anchored boats while pulling a horse (the equestrian kind) around the water behind him. I think it's a method for training or rehabilitation. Since then, we've seen "Seabiscuit" out there swimming every afternoon, so today I went out there with the telephoto lens and hopefully got a few good photos.

Christiansted - Great Danes

I just reread my last post and realized that with all my whining about what broke I neglected to mention the one *very important* thing that was fixed before we left -- the autopilot. Having a working autopilot made the 180-mile passage from Antigua to St. Croix a much easier task, that's for sure. Since we arrived, Kevin has also got the genset working again. Fixing the mainsail problem is just a question of how to best thread the sheet so that it doesn't chafe. Kevin's dress sock is still doing double-duty as an air filter (we're not too worried about that one). So all is about as "ship-shape" as it usually is...

St. Croix is really a fabulous island. It's a perfect blend of old and new. A little history: Christopher Columbus landed here (the only documented landing on US soil). First the Spanish, then the French, then English, and finally the Danish took control of the island. The US passed up the chance to buy the Virgin Islands from Denmark for a mere $7.5 million in 1867, instead waiting for the sky-high price of $25 million (in gold) during 1917. But despite being a US possession, there's still a lot of Danish history and architecture all around the island, and you see Danish flags everywhere.

On Sunday we went ashore to check out the town. Downtown Christiansted is dominated by an enormous yellow fort -- Fort Christiansvaern. We started there and worked our way along the waterfront boardwalk, checking out all the preserved buildings. We weren't able to do too much sightseeing our first day, since it was Sunday and most things were closed. But there were plenty of people at the Fort Christian Brew Pub, a microbrewery that we just happened upon during happy hour. Monday it rained, but Tuesday was sunny so we rented a car. First stop: Kmart, to pick up massive quantities of cheap paper towels, cat litter, and toilet paper (God Bless America!). Then we hit the Botanical Gardens, which was located on a former sugar plantation. The ruins were cool, and the grounds were well cared for but I think we've maxed out our tolerance for botanical gardens (same as with forts). So we didn't spend too much time there.

We then headed to Fredericksted (which is dominated by an enormous red fort -- at least the Danish liked to use bright colors, most of the forts we've seen are just a boring brown!). Fredericksted had a beautiful stone walkway along the beach and every building on the main street was appealingly painted in Caribbean-style pastel colors. But it was eerie. There were hardly any people anywhere. Most of the pretty buildings were unoccupied or closed down. I guess they like to keep up appearances for when cruise ships are in town, but it seemed like Fredericksted was like one of those Hollywood backlots -- beautiful facades but not much behind them.

It was getting late, so we did a quick tour of the Cruzan Rum Distillery (can't pass up a tour with a free drink at the end!) and then headed back to the boat. Tomorrow we are hoping to do some diving.

Christiansted, St. Croix USVI

We've been having a string of bad luck where things keep breaking. First our alternator on our generator literally fell off (the mounting bracket broke). Then when Kevin was preparing the boat for the passage to St. Croix he noticed that one of our engine air filters had torn. So he tried to put on a new one, but it tore as he was putting it on. (The air filters are made of foam and very flimsy.) We didn't have another spare and didn't want to run the engine with nothing filtering the air, so Kevin MacGuyvered a solution using one of his dress socks. Things usually break in threes, so we knew that something else would be breaking soon, probably on our passage.

We left Falmouth Harbour, Antigua around noon. It started pouring rain the moment after we pulled up anchor, but luckily the rain didn't last long. We were pretty excited to be finally going downwind for a long passage (it is 180 miles from Antigua to St. Croix, for us it would take about 30 hours). We put up the main and were able to turn the engines off and save some fuel. Woohoo! Kevin threw out a fishing line and a few hours later he started reeling in what we thought was a huge fish. After a great deal of effort to pull it in, it turned out to be a big piece of fishing net. Oh well. But at least so far the passage was going well -- we were sailing, the seas were behind us and not too big, and we were making good time doing 8+ knots. Of course it couldn't last: shortly after it got dark we heard a horrible banging coming from the boom. Sure enough, a block that guides the mainsheet had broken and now the mainsheet line was chafing on an opening in the boom. Crap. If we left the line alone, it would chafe through and cause the boom to swing forward uncontrolled. Kevin tried his best to fix the line, but it was dark and rolly and with the sail under load it really wasn't possible to do much. So, we did the only thing we could do: we lowered the sail and turned on an engine. Kevin was extremely disappointed to have to motor when conditions were perfect for sailing. But there really wasn't any way to repair the problem. So once again, we motored our way around the Caribbean.

We arrived in Christiansted around 3pm on Saturday. Technically we are back in the good old US of A! All we had to do to clear in was make a phone call. So simple. We were both exhausted but managed to make our way ashore to the Golden Rail Bar where we had two Bud Lights and some awesome cheeseburgers. Then we headed back to the boat to get some much-needed sleep.

Where we are:
Location=Christiansted, St. Croix USVI
Lat=17 45.051
Lon=64 41.858

Antigua - Side Trip

To bring everyone up to speed: last week we received a call that my youngest brother Scott (who is on a study abroad program in Groningen, Netherlands) was admitted to the Groningen hospital in critical condition with a mystery illness. His condition was so bad that he was sedated and put on a ventilator and feeding tube. I flew out there from Antigua and have spent the last week with my family hoping Scott would get better. He finally woke up on Wednesday morning. He is still very ill and will be in the isolation unit for the next few weeks until they figure out what the problem was, but he is awake and they were able to take him off the ventilator. It has been a difficult week for me and my family, but we are just so thankful that he is alive and hope he will make a full, albeit slow, recovery.

So now I am back in Antigua. I was able to get 8 hours sleep and now we are heading out on an overnighter to St. Croix in the US Virgin Islands. We are preparing the boat this morning and plan to leave around noon. We should have good weather and be able to sail most of the way.

Falmouth Harbour -- "Two weeks."

Well all week it's been windy and rainy here. Right now the wind is fierce and it is pouring. Of course every once in a while the weather gods will play an April Fools joke on us and it will suddenly turn sunny, not a cloud in the sky. So then we open all the hatches and ports and just when we get comfortable -- WHAM! Thirty-knot winds driving rainshowers straight down into the hatches. This has been going on all week and we are getting tired of it. The other day one of us forgot to completely dog down a port and our bedroom got flooded with half an inch of water (yet again -- it's not the first time that has happened). The other downside of all the rain is that we haven't gone ashore much. I've read more books and done more Sudoku and played more hands of Solitaire than I care to count! (Okay, maybe I did count: five books, 11 Sudokus, and I am 14 for 20 on "Freecell"). Plus there is the unfortunate fact that our settee is about as comfortable as a cement bench covered with a wafer-thin throw pillow. Between the hard seats and the lack of exercise I have lost all feeling in my backside. I now know what it's like to be a baby calf destined to wind up as part of someone's Veal Parmesan. Enough with the April showers, already.

We are still waiting on the autopilot. Early last week, the repair guy said "no problem". Kevin called on Thursday and it wasn't done but the guy said "tomorrow afternoon". We went by the shop on Friday and were told "Monday morning, for sure". On Monday we called and it was "either end of day or early Tuesday". It's now Wednesday and still no autopilot. Anyone ever see the movie "The Money Pit" where Tom Hanks hires contractors to fix up an old house and they keep telling him it'll be done in "two weeks"? In the movie it was hilarious, but in real life? Not so funny. So we sit here in Antigua waiting for sunny skies and a working autopilot. Email us. We're bored.

Falmouth Harbour, Antigua

Long time no post. Sorry about that. Not much has been going on, really. We arrived in Falmouth Harbour on Easter Sunday. Just after we dropped anchor, our friends Richard and Harriet ("Perseverance", same make as our boat only newer) radioed and invited us to a potluck aboard their boat. So I quickly made cobbler and we headed over to join three other couples for Easter dinner. The food and company was great and we were glad not to just sit at home and have "Easter Pizza" (which was what was going to be our menu if we hadn't gone to the potluck).

It's been a quiet week. Kevin has been working on getting our autopilot fixed. We were afraid we'd have to ship it to the manufacturer (in England) to have it looked at, but luckily there is a place here in Antigua that claims they can fix it. Because of the holiday (Easter Monday), it took them a while to order the parts, but it sounds like they'll be able to have it repaired by Monday the 31st. Which is great because we have to get a move on. We are planning to take a trip to Phoenix the first week in May, but we need to get the boat to Puerto Rico where we can board the cat and get the cheapest flights. So the clock is ticking, but we've been waiting on the autopilot. So it will be great to have that fixed. In the meantime Kevin has been feeling under the weather so we haven't done any more sightseeing or much of anything really, which explains the lack of posts. But if any weird sea creatures appear in our toilet, or if some yahoo anchors way too close to us, I'll be sure to let you know.

Where we are:
Location=Falmouth Harbour, Antigua
Lat=17 01.000
Lon=61 46.390

Green Island, Antigua

[Kevin's Post]After the craziness of English Harbour, we wanted to just get away from the crowds for a while. We had heard of a cool spot behind the barrier reef on the Eastern side of Antigua from our friends on Adventure Bound. Generally most of the anchorages are on the west side of the islands since that is the side sheltered from the winds. So we decided to go check it out, we were a bit concerned by the forecast of 17' seas which would be arriving in a few days, but Adventure Bound said that they were anchored there in 10' seas and it was still perfectly flat behind the reef. We figured if the reef could keep out 10' seas, it would probably be ok in 17' as well. And if not, we knew that they would be building gradually over several days and we could get out of dodge if things got too rolly.

We arrived at the anchorage to find beautiful turquoise water, several gorgeous beaches, a huge reef to snorkel and only a handful of boats. We motored straight past all the other boats and anchored well in front of everybody. The entire six days we were there nobody even came close to us (except an occasional kiteboarder tearing past). When the swells arrived, they put on quite a show. We watched them smash into Green Island a quarter mile away and shoot spray 75' in the air. After a few days we needed to get off the boat so we decided to dinghy over to Harmony Hall for Lunch. This is a small boutique hotel in Nonsuch Bay with a restaurant and art gallery. The food was good, although outrageously overpriced. For some reason we always seem to end up at these places. We never learn. We probably could have eaten a week's worth of lunches at a 'local' restaurant for the price of this one tourist meal. We always get suckered in by the tablecloths and the view. Oh well, maybe next time we'll wise up.

Where we are:
Location=Green Island, Antigua
Lat=17 04.540
Lon=61 40.268

Nonsuch Bay, Antigua

[Kevin's Post]For the past three days we have been anchored in the southernmost corner of English Harbour tucked up as close to the beach as we dared. English Harbour is rapidly becoming an anchoring circus as race week approaches and more and more boats try to cram themselves into the tiny harbour. We had not been anchored more than an hour when the games began. While I was at customs, a small monohull named Leeamus dropped his anchor about 20 feet from ours and then tied off 90 degrees to us (and the wind) with a stern anchor toward the beach. Great. Not only is he right in the middle of our swing circle, he has two anchors out so there's no chance he is going to swing with the wind. I wasn't in the mood for a fight, so we just set a stern anchor out ourselves to make sure we didn't get too close to him. I figured if it wasn't him, it would be somebody else. . .and as it turned out it was him AND several somebody elses.

So picture this: We are anchored with a bow and stern anchor parallel with the beach about 100 feet off. Leeamus is about 100 feet in front of us anchored perpendicular and stern-to the beach. The following day a 65-70 foot wooden monohull (with an inoperable engine) came in and tried to anchor between us. With the aid of several dinghies, they set out their primary anchor and then ran a line to shore with a dinghy between Leeamus and Solstice. They then tried to winch their stern around and tuck up in by the beach. They didn't have any lines long enough to do this, so they tied a couple of shorter lines together. They apparently remembered they had a 12 foot draft as they hit the bottom closer to the beach. And at about this time the knot they used to join the lines came undone. So now they are swinging a huge circle through the anchorage and would have hit at least 3 boats, except one of their crew was in a dinghy fending them off. They eventually decided they weren't going to get the job done with dinghies and enlisted the help of a powerboat with larger outboards. They repeated the whole procedure and finally got tied off to the beach only to be towed into the marina a few hours later.

Day three arrived and I woke up to find that Leeamus was gone and that we gleefully had our spot all to ourselves again. But before long, a Sunsail charter catamaran also noticed Leeamus had left and they wanted a piece of the action. They took Leeamus's old position only slightly closer to us. Great. Within a few hours Leeamus returns from a daysail and anchors again as close as they could get to their original spot and promptly leave the boat. Within a few minutes we hear whistling and shouting and observe Leeamus has dragged and is now resting against the Sunsail charter catamaran. For the first time in my life I was glad to have a charter catamaran anchored too close to me.

As Leeamus was re-anchoring I saw the stern of a gigantic 60' catamaran heading towards our bow with the intent of squeezing into the 100 foot space between us and the sunsail catamaran and anchoring stern to the beach. Now let me pause for a minute to give you some background. French captains are notorious for anchoring too close (and conversely not caring if you are anchored too close to them). The 60' catamaran had a French crew. The Sunsail catamaran had a French crew. When the Sunsail crew saw what was happening they started screaming at the 60' catamaran. That should give some indication for how insane this little maneuver was. The Sunsail boat was yelling at them in French, I was yelling at them in English, they were just ignoring everybody. They could not be reasoned with and our well-practiced stink-eye was completely ineffective. When they finally got settled, their bow was about 30' from our starboard side and they were oriented 90 degrees to us with a massive bowsprit aimed right at the middle of our boat. Their forward anchor was feet in front of our boat and tied off to their starboard bow, and their stern line was tied off to their port stern. So their two lines were making a diagonal through their boat which is just a bizarre arrangement. I was extremely pissed off and yelled to their captain that our boat would swing side to side and we could hit even if their boat didn't move. No response. Amanda was busy taking photos for our imminent insurance claim. By now it was about 5:30 PM and we had dinner plans with Meggie or I probably would have just moved the boat. I grabbed my mask and snorkel and dove on their anchor to make sure it was set and then I swam to shore and checked on their stern line. I wanted to be damn sure they knew how to tie a knot and we didn't have a repeat of the day before. I think I kind of scared them when they saw me swimming toward their boat. I hope so. I can just picture them talking to each other, 'Zee crazy Ahmeerican - ee is coming for us'. Meanwhile Leeamus is still looking for a spot to reanchor and eyeing the area around our stern anchor. We breathed a huge sigh of relief when they finally anchored far from us.

This morning as we hauled up our two anchors to get the hell out of there I wanted to give the French crews some advice on anchoring etiquette in my best French. But, I could tell it was going to sound something like 'Pardon my French, but [expletive] you [expletive]' so I just kept my mouth shut. Now we are anchored over in the enormous Nonsuch Bay and don't have another boat within 1000 feet. For now.

Where we are:
Location=Nonsuch Bay, Antigua
Lat=17 04.540
Lon=61 40.268

English Harbour - Shirley Heights Jump Up

Last night (Sunday) we were invited to get together with Mike & Kylie ("Meggie") and Mark and Jackie ("Kardia") for a hike up to the fort at Shirley Heights for the weekly jump up. Our Lonely Planet guidebook called the barbecue "one of the island's nicest scenes" and claimed that "drinks are reasonably priced". We made plans to head up after Kevin finished uninstalling the autopilot (which hasn't worked since Bequia. More on that later.) By 4:30pm we could already hear strains of steel pan music floating down from the fort (we are anchored just beneath it). So we headed ashore and Mark managed to find the trail. It was truly a steep "hiking" trail, not just a walk up the road, and after about 20 minutes we arrived, breathless and sweaty, at the top. We were ready for some beers for sure.

The place was already crowded with what appeared to be British tourists, and everyone was dressed in what I like to call "cruise ship casual" (clothing that people *think* they should wear while on a tropical vacation, but which just serves to mark them as tourists, etc). We saw a lot of flowy white outfits, crazy printed pants, and a few girls who were more dressed for clubbing (heels and short skirts) than an outdoor barbecue. We could tell THEY hadn't done the twenty-minute hike to get here and had just taken a cab instead. Anyway, it was pretty obvious that we were in a tourist trap when we saw the beer prices (EC$8, a little less than $3, but still more than the average of EC$5 that we're used to). The food looked pretty pricey as well, so instead of eating we just listened to the band play. And they were very, very good. I know most of you are probably sick of hearing how great steel pan music is, but we really enjoy the atmosphere of the live steel band. For some reason, it doesn't sound the same on the recordings. We bought a CD a while ago and listening to it just isn't the same as seeing it performed live.

As it started to get dark, we decided to hit the road. It quickly got too dark to see the trail but we had enough flashlights and we all managed to get down without injury. We all had dinner and drinks at the Mad Mongoose; it was a late night by cruiser standards. Then this morning, Kevin spent the afternoon in town trying to find someone to repair our autopilot. It's been leaking oil so it seems to have a shot seal somewhere. The company that manufactures it is in England, so we are trying to avoid having to ship a 15-pound part back and forth across the Atlantic if we can find someone local who can repair it. A new one would cost $2500, so if we can get the old one working for less than that, it will be worth it. In the meantime, we've been practicing our helmsmanship and are getting really good at steering by hand.

English Harbour, Antigua - Nelson's Dockyard

It's been a while since we posted photos, but we've got a good internet connection today so we've added quite a few to the recent photos link.

We left Guadeloupe on Saturday and arrived at English Harbour that afternoon after a pretty good sail. Our friends on "Meggie" hailed us before we got into the harbour and helped us scout out a primo anchoring spot since the harbor was pretty crowded. We've actually got two anchors set because there are so many boats and the wind dies off at night so boats swing every which direction. At least with the second anchor we can keep ourselves far away from everyone else.

This morning we took the dinghy into the Nelson's Dockyard complex. It was originally built in the 1740's and was used as a base for British naval and merchant ships, where they could careen their boats (heel them way over on purpose to clean the barnacles off the bottom) and get other repairs done. Lord Nelson was stationed here for several years (hence the name). After the yard went out of use in the 1800's many of the buildings remained intact, and about 50 years ago they restored everything and put it back in use as a marina. The old brick buildings have been converted into restaurants, hotels, bakeries, etc. and it has become a pretty popular tourist attraction. We enjoyed the museum, which had all kinds of fascinating tidbits of information about sea life at the time. For example: when the flour onboard became infested with weevils, cooks still used it to bake what they called "Weevil Biscuits" for the crew. Aren't you glad I shared that little factoid? And here's another one for you: apparently it was common practice for sailors to wash their clothes in urine (a mild bleaching agent) and then rinse them in saltwater. Yuck. Sure makes me appreciate the washer/dryer we have aboard "Solstice"!

We had lunch at one of the little cafes in the dockyard complex and then took a ten-minute walk up to Fort Berkley where we had great views of the boats in the harbor. It was a decent walk but the weather here in Antigua is kind of like Arizona: very dry. The path was lined with cacti and century plants, and to be honest in the heat of the day it really did seem like we were hiking around back home. Except for the fort, the cannon, and the fantastic view of the ocean, of course. But other than that it was just like Arizona. Anyway, we were melting by the time we got back to the dinghy so we were glad to head home to the boat and take a swim.

Where we are:
Location=English Harbour, Antigua
Lat=17 00.151
Lon=61 45.586

Guadeloupe - Riviere Salee

The island of Guadeloupe is shaped like a butterfly. Pointe-a-Pitre is located near the bottom of the butterfly's body. In order to get to Antigua (our next stop, almost due north from here) we had two choices: we could go south and then north around the westward "wing" of the butterfly, which would be a detour of more than 50 miles. Or, we could save a lot of time and mileage by going straight between the butterfly wings via the Riviere Salee (French for "Salt River").

Salt River's
The place to
Have a good time...
(For those readers who aren't from Arizona: there's a Salt River near Phoenix, and every spring and summer thousands of Arizonans put on old bathing suits and ratty shoes and jump in an inner tube to spend four hours floating down the mucky river and roasting in the sun. It's a lot of fun. Really. Especially if you have a custom inner-tube-shaped cooler full of beer. For those readers who ARE from Arizona: I apologize for putting the annoying "Salt River Recreation" jingle in your head. I'm sure you'll be singing it all day long. Sorry.)

So the Riviere Salee divides the island in half and there are two bascule bridges that you have to go through, one at the south end and one at the north. Unfortunately, they only open once per day at the ungodly hour of five in the morning. So we were up and on our way to the first bridge by 4:15. It was still dark but luckily there were no container or cruise ships in the Pointe-a-Pitre port this morning so we were able to maneuver through the channel without having to worry about them. The big shipping channel narrows and shallows up before you get to the first bridge. We were the first ones there but there were three other boats behind us. It was so dark I couldn't see enough to clearly make out the bridge but it looked really narrow. Like, REALLY narrow. We are 21 feet across, and we couldn't find the width of the bridge on any of our charts. One of the guidebooks said it was 7 meters 60, which is about 25 feet, so Kevin had already rigged up some fenders just in case it was too close for comfort. When the bridge opened, I tried shouting slowly in French "How many meters wide is the bridge?" to the bridgetender who replied too rapidly for me to understand. But I did catch the words "You" and "okay" so we proceeded through anyway. I guess the guidebook was wrong because it ended up we had about five feet of clearance on either side. Still tricky, and I'm glad there wasn't any current pushing us around, but at least we didn't scrape up the sides of the boat.

Once through the south bridge, it was about a mile or so to the north one. The short passage reminded us of the Intracoastal Waterway in the US: watch the markers, stay in the narrow channel, or risk running aground. Luckily the channel was plenty deep for us and we were glad to finally approach the second bridge. It opens exactly a half-hour after the first one, so we timed our speed to make it with ten minutes to spare. But the last boat behind us was pretty slow, and sure enough when the bridge opened only three of us came through before he closed it. So we're not quite sure what happened to the last guy. It's possible he ran aground (parts of the channel can get pretty shallow for monohulls).

North of the river, the water opens up into a huge bay called the Grand Cul-de-Sac de Marin. Once we got further away from the river and the mangroves, the water got very clear and there were all kinds of little islands and reefs. The two boats behind us continued on to Antigua or other northern islands. Technically we have already cleared out of the country and should be on our way, but we decided to stay one more night anchored near an island called Ilet Fajou (Can't seem to stop breaking the rules! We must like living dangerously.) Not too many boats choose this route to go through Guadeloupe and we have the anchorage all to ourselves, which is a rare thing in the Caribbean. We're basically out in the middle of nowhere, surrounded by water so clear you can see the starfish, conch, and sea cucumbers resting on the bottom. It would be awesome if not for the bugs. The supposedly uninhabited island of Ilet Fajou has a population of about 100,000 tiny flies. And they've all come to visit our boat. Thank god for screens.

Where we are:
Location=Ilet Fajou, Guadeloupe
Lat=16 15.016
Lon=61 31.807

Pointe-a-Pitre - Le Veterinaire

We can't seem to stop breaking all the rules in the French islands. This morning we left the boat for an hour to go ashore and get a rental car. We came back to the boat to discover a big blue sticker telling us (in French) to contact the dockmaster of the Marina Bas du Fort immediately. Turns out that you are not allowed to anchor in the area where we were (although both our guidebooks say it's okay). I guess the dockmaster patrols the area and tells anchored boats to pick up a mooring but since we weren't on the boat at the time we got "stickered". So we moved to a mooring ball. We weren't fined, but the mooring charge is ten Euros/night which is annoying to have to pay since we were perfectly anchored out of everyone's way. Whatever.

The primary reason we rented the car is because Boris is due for his rabies shot in two days. We know that some of the former English islands are very strict about animals being up-to-date on their vaccines so we figured we'd get it taken care of before Boris's certificate expired. The helpful lady at the marina had given us a map and some good directions to a veterinarian, so we dinghied the cat ashore (Boris's least favorite way to travel!) and set off in the car (his second least favorite). At least here they drive on the right hand side of the road, and road signage is pretty good so we were able to find the vet office without too much trouble. But when we got into downtown Pointe-a-Pitre not only was it rush hour but there was no parking to be found anywhere near the vet. Cars were parked (illegally I might add) all over the place -- some were on sidewalks, some were blocking entrances to driveways, and some just parallel parked right behind other parked cars, blocking them in. This went on for blocks and blocks; cars were literally stacked up everywhere there was enough space to squeeze into. So we made another pass and as luck would have it, we made our own space. Back in the states it would've been considered motorcycle parking but it was just big enough for the Citroen rental so we jumped on it. I do find it ironic that boat "parking" is strictly enforced and we had to "park" in a very specific spot, whereas it is obvious that no such rule applies to parking cars.

We walked into the veterinary office and not a soul spoke English. We had no appointment because I figured no one would understand me on the telephone, but the vet was really a great guy and agreed to see us right away anyway. I had looked up the word for rabies (la rage) and was able to make him understand that our cat needed a vaccination for rabies (as opposed to actually having rabies). Even though he didn't speak English he was a very expressive speaker, and he used a combination of words and pantomime to explain: "Regarding the animals and vaccinations, the French island take the attitude..." (here he fluttered his hands and did a little dance to demonstrate that the French could not care less whether the shots are current or not), "...whereas in other islands if the cat has no vaccine..." (here he mimed a gun with his fingers and "shot" Boris in the head). We got the message, and were glad we hadn't waited to try to get him vaccinated in Antigua or someplace strict. (In fact we had heard from other cruisers that some islands really will put the animal down rather than let them go ashore unvaccinated so even though he was making a joke he wasn't just kidding around). Anyway overall it was a very pleasant experience (for us, not for Boris). The doctor was a jokester in any language, and he had us all laughing the whole time. So at least now Boris has all his vaccines -- that's one rule we won't be breaking in the next country we visit.

We brought the cat back to the boat and it was only mid-afternoon so we took off again in the car and headed for Gosier, which is a small town a few kilometers south of here with lots of beaches and resorts. Lonely Planet hinted that the place was a little run-down, and it was true in the sense that all the buildings looked like they were built about 20 years ago and never maintained. But the beaches were packed with people who didn't seem to mind the graffiti and vacant properties behind them. There were some pretty nice views and each hotel was situated in its own cove with its own crescent of beach so we ended up driving along the road and stopping at each one to check it out. We also kept an eye out for a place to eat and since we were jonesing for something familiar I must admit that we both had a Royale with Cheese at MickeyD's (sometimes you just want something that reminds you of home). It wasn't the best choice we could have made: the restaurant was packed and had two children's birthday parties going at the same time so twenty kids were running around screaming their heads off in French. Also the food was outrageously expensive: a Quarter Pounder meal (regular, not large) was US$9.28 each, so dinner was an exhorbitant twenty bucks. At McDonalds. Yikes. I find it funny that afterwards we walked over to the grocery store and bought four bottles of decent French wine for the exact same amount. I'm lovin' it.

Pointe-a-Pitre, Guadeloupe - Legal Aliens

So after paying that hefty fine in Fort de France, we knew we would need to have our mail shipped ASAP to get our current US Coast Guard certificate. We debated staying in Martinique and waiting for mail or having it sent to Dominica (the next island to the north) but it made sense to just have it shipped to the capital of Guadeloupe (two islands north) since we knew there was a large marina there that would accept the package for us.

On Sunday afternoon we cleared out of Martinique. Customs in St. Pierre is actually run out of a bar called L'Escapade; instead of a customs officer the person who handles the paperwork does double duty as bartender. Oddly enough she scrutinized our paperwork, as opposed to the actual customs agent in Le Marin who didn't even look at it or our passports. She noticed the expiration date straightaway but of course we had our receipt from the fine so at least we didn't have to shell out another 300 Euros. Monday was a long day -- we left Martinique at 6AM and sailed past Dominica to get to the Iles des Saintes, which are just south of the main island of Guadeloupe. We arrived around sunset, plus it happened to be an election day, so customs was closed meaning that there were no pesky customs officers around to notice our expired paperwork.

This morning we got an early start heading to Pointe-a-Pitre, the capital of Guadeloupe, and we arrived around 11AM. On first impression, the anchorage here doesn't have much going for it. It's very industrial with big shipping docks and a cruise ship dock. The bottom is mud, so our primary anchor (a Delta) wouldn't set but luckily we used the spare Danforth anchor which is perfect for mud and hooked on the first try. We dinghied over to the marina and -- whew! -- picked up our mail with our paperwork before clearing in at customs and immigration. Things started looking up once we walked around the marina a bit. It's a great place; there are all kinds of restaurants, even one called "Arizona" which we'll have to check out. We ate lunch at a 50's-inspired cafe where the pizzas were named after rock-and-roll legends. Think "Ed Debevics" or "5 and Diner" but with a bizarre French flair. It was a bit surreal since the woman manager had hair and clothes that could only be described as 60's chic (none of the other employees were dressed that way though, so I think it was a fashion choice not a work uniform). After lunch we stopped by the supermarket and picked up a bunch of produce and some pain au chocolate. I like it that here you can have a buttery croissant-type thing stuffed with chocolate and still call it a breakfast food.

Where we are:
Location=Pointe-a-Pitre, Guadeloupe
Lat=16 13.607
Lon=61 32.064

St. Pierre, Martinique

The anchorage in the town of Saint Pierre always seems to be crowded. There's a big bay but only a narrow shelf where it's shallow enough for cruising boats to drop anchor, it drops rapidly from just 25 feet deep down to 80 feet or more. On our first try we ended up a little too close to another boat for our liking, so we tried again much further down the beach and got settled. Then we went into town to do a little sightseeing. Our first stop was the Musee Volcanologique, which houses artifacts and photos of the eruption of Mont Pelee in 1902. Before the eruption, Saint Pierre was a bustling hub full of ships importing and exporting goods. That all changed on May 8, 1902. The volcano erupted and it took just ten minutes to destroy the town, covering it with hot ash. Nearly 30,000 people were killed in those ten minutes. In "after" photos, it looks more like an atomic bomb was dropped -- twelve ships in the harbor sank and there were no buildings left, just some walls here and there. The museum was full of weird displays of ordinary household objects completely transformed by intense heat. There were nails and screws from a hardware store that looked like a surreal sculpture all fused together. Wineglasses and vases were melted like they were wax, and there was a large metal church bell that had been crushed almost flat. Despite all this destruction there was one survivor, Louis Cyparis, who was in a solitary cell in the jail when the eruption happened. He was badly burned but survived several days drinking water that leached into his cell. What was surprising is that his cell is still intact and you can go inside. We walked over to where the jail was and took a look. The walls of the cell are a good two feet thick. The foundations of the theater next door are still there, too, so it was really interesting to walk around and see what they had excavated. Most of the rest of town looks a little ramshackle, and part of that is due to the fact that they rebuilt using the walls left standing after the eruption. So everywhere you look there's evidence of what happened here a hundred years ago. Mont Pelee is still active but is closely monitored and hasn't had any major activity since 1932.

Of course when we got back to the boat another sailboat had anchored pretty close to us. We didn't say anything to them because it looked like it would be okay if the wind stayed steady and we all pointed the same way. But just before midnight sure enough the wind died down and the boats started turning in different directions. They started getting pretty close to us so we sat outside and watched for an hour. I guess they were awake, too, because they finally hauled in a little chain so they would be far enough away not to hit us.

Where we are:
Location=St. Pierre, Martinique
Lat=14 44.351
Lon=61 10.652

Anse Mitan, Martinique

Will the excitement never end? This morning we were still anchored over in Fort de France. I was down in the bunk still half asleep when Kevin shouts down, "Hey Amanda, are you awake?". I said, "Yeah, why?". "Because I'm going to blast the air horn in a second here and I just wanted to warn you." Ah, our good old trusty air horn, what would we do without it? "Wings", a sixty-foot boat that had been anchored several hundred feet in front of us, was now somehow forty feet behind us and moving away fast. No one onboard responded to the air horn because there was no one onboard. The thing was heading into deeper water and if someone didn't do something soon we knew it would drift merrily off on its way to Central America.

It was just luck that Kevin happened to stop reading and go upstairs to look around. It was also luck that "Wings" didn't hit us or catch our anchor chain. However, Kevin could see that there were several other cruisers just sitting in their cockpits watching "Wings" take flight and doing nothing about it. No air horn or shouts to warn us as it passed our boat, no nothing. But then again maybe they were hailing us on the VHF, which we did not have on, so I am going to give them the benefit of the doubt. Anyway we lowered the dinghy and sped over. A French cruiser whose boat had also miraculously been spared being hit by "Wings" also came out in his dinghy. The first thing was to let out more chain, hoping that the anchor would catch and stop the boat from dragging further. Kevin and the French cruiser did that while I tried to figure out how to start the engine. The guys got the boat to stop dragging just before it got to the deep ferry channel. Once the boat had stopped dragging, the French guy dinghied back to his boat while Kevin tried to help me figure out the ignition. Our boat starts like a car: turn the key and the engine cranks. This one was a much fancier boat -- we could see switches for the bow thruster, the electric winches, the various electronic equipment, but no key or obvious way to start the darn thing. There were three mysterious black buttons, all labeled "Push", and two unlabeled choke-type pull switches that looked promising. But pushing the buttons in various sequences (and all together) and pulling the levers produced nothing. We could not hear any engine crank or anything.

But at least the boat wasn't dragging anymore, so while I stayed aboard "Wings" Kevin dinghied back to our boat to get our handheld VHF (and a bra, since I had literally jumped out of bed and into the dinghy while in my pajamas). He also stopped by a French boat who issued a security notice on the VHF to warn the ferries (who were passing pretty darn close to "Wings" and waking the heck out of us). While he was talking to the French boat, an American dinghied up and offered to go ashore to look for the owners. Kevin came back to "Wings" and we decided to just stay with the boat and wait til the owners arrived. About half an hour later a dinghy raced from the dinghy dock and it was the hired captain, who thanked us profusely for stopping the boat and "saving his job". Apparently he dropped the owners off ashore and then went to clear in at customs, where someone told him that his boat was dragging. Since the winds were gusting up to 30 knots, Kevin offered to help him re-anchor. We were both pretty surprised that the guy (Greg or Gary, didn't catch the name) wanted to anchor in exactly the same place. That made no sense; if you know your boat didn't hold why would you pick the same spot? We didn't say anything but it was a really odd choice. The anchor got set and Kevin and I returned to "Solstice". In a few minutes he dinghied up with a bottle of Australian wine and thanked us again for saving the boat and his job. THEN he casually mentioned that he wasn't even going to tell the owners about how the boat had dragged and that if the owner noticed that they weren't in quite the same spot he would tell them, "well the boat dragged a little but I re-anchored". So THAT'S why he wanted to drop the hook in the same spot!

Now, he may have been joking and honestly, I hope he was. But as a boat OWNER, for him to joke about deceiving other boat owners after the serious situation their boat had just been through, well that didn't sit right with me. He wasn't kidding about us saving his job -- the holding in the anchorage was excellent and the boat had a huge delta anchor, so the only reason it dragged was that he hadn't put out enough scope and he probably didn't back down on it (he didn't back down when we helped him, either). The owners of that boat will never realize just how serious the situation was -- their million-dollar boat was truly drifting into the ferry and shipping lanes, and it was also bearing down on an 8-foot-tall metal channel marker. So it's possible that he didn't want to say anything to the owners of "Wings" in order to keep his job. But we didn't do what we did to save his job. We did it because we saw a boat in trouble and others have done exactly the same for us. It's too bad we didn't have a chance to run into the owners before we left the anchorage, we would've told them the story of how we were saved from dragging in Luperon and that it happens to everyone. So if anyone runs across a beautiful, blue-hulled, sixty (or so) foot monohull called "Wings" from Seattle (bound for Antigua), tell them we say hello and that Kevin says, "You don't need to have a professional captain to drag anchor, we've managed to do it all by ourselves!"

Where we are:
Location= Anse Mitan, Martinique
Lat=14 33.655
Lon=61 03.175