Tin Tin's Sailing Calendar

Monday 27 February 2017

Testing Times

Thursday dawned and we set about finding remedies to various problems;

A.  Replace the Batteries
B.  Get Volvo to fix the intermittent stop/start problem on the new engine
C.  Provisioning for the best part of three months.

Having spent time online trying to find battery suppliers I took a cab to the north of the city to Casa de las Baterías, where they had a good range in stock. However when I measured up I found that the only suitable ones were too tall for our underfloor battery box. In the end I bought two on sale or return and Mark heroically lugged them, one in each hand, down the long, long bridge to the ferry dock. Once back aboard we took out old batteries and tried the new ones, but they were a few millimetres too tall and the floorboards wouldn't sit back

So on Friday we all set off to search for more batteries and to do a provisioning run. We came back exhausted without batteries but with lots of tinned food and 60 litres of milk.

Then I paid for the mooring and we motored down to the free anchorage at La Playita.

Saturday breakfast was amazing because we were under the densest concentrations of sea birds that we've seen for a long time. Huge flocks of pelicans, terms, little gulls (must look them up) were then followed by a black river of cormorants flying low round the headland in a dense stream that kept on and on and on coming. Meanwhile the water was erupting with the great splashes as flight after flight of pelicans suddenly tipped on one wing and hurtled into the murky brown water, chased by gulls and terns anxious for leftovers.

Going ashore we found that the elusive Volvo Penta building was facing the boat (albeit closed till Wednesday pm for Carnival). The marina had a good chandlery and although they had denied selling batteries when I had called them on Friday, I found three suitable ones hidden away. They said they could get more, so it seems our power problem may be fixable.

Crossing Continents to the Pacific

Our transit from Atlantic to Pacific was scheduled for Tuesday the 21st of Feb at 2pm. Unfortunately the Shelter Bay shipyard had not relaunched Tin Tin on Saturday, while we were doing my trial run through the canal. So on Monday morning it was extremely upsetting to find that they had another boat scheduled and couldn't fit us in. Plus their crane driver hasn't turned up to work till 1pm!

However I stressed to the office manager lady that we were originally scheduled to transit on Monday at 3pm.  She didn't hear the "originally" and got everyone on the job so that amazingly the painting was finished and the boat in the water by 2pm. That gave us time to collect the repaired sails, fill with water, hose off the dust etc. We had also had the help of Pierric Bages, a very helpful French electrician, trying to sort out issues with loss of battery power, and he worked up to the last moment investigating the problem before we left.

Tin Tin's new blue antifouling is finished in the nick of time
We motored over to anchor at The Flats to wait for our Adviser/ Pilot and by 5pm were rafted up with another yacht and entering the first of the three lock Gatun series. Ahead we had a cargo vessel and a large motor boat. Our team took one pair of lines, while our companion boat took the port side pair.

Under the guidance of our Pilot we motored into each lock, and here the onshore line handlers threw down lines weighted with a heavy metal/rope "Monkey's Fist" to which we secured our 50 metre lines with a big bowline.  The line handlers then hauled our lines up while we manoeuvred into the lock, close behind the ships ahead, and they then secured us to bollards.

Japanese Car Carrier, Garnet Ace very close astern in Miraflores Lock, Panama
We watched in awed anxiety as a huge cargo ship slid in behind us with inches to spare on each side of the lock, and came to a stop within a few feet of our stern.   Their lines are all handled by four diesel locomotives which run on rails alongside the dock, with a mechanism that stops them toppling into the lock. The rail tracks slope steeply up from one level to the next, so the locomotives run on a rack and pinion system like a funicular railway.

In the locks on the Panama Canal
As the water in the lock fills or empties the yacht crews had to work hard to take up the slack, whilst maintaining tension round a cleat, to keep the rafted boats from colliding with the wall or the cargo ship astern.  The swirls and eddies are powerful as the vast tank fills up quickly.

By the time we had reached the top lock it was pitch black, and we motored quickly to the designated mooring buoys. Here our Pilot left us for the night, and we settle down to supper and a well earned cold beer.   We took a chance and used red paint and Niall's stencil to emblazon TIN TIN ROUND THE WORLD onto the faded red buoy, hoping we wouldn't get arrested. However at breakfast it was obvious that no one was likely to spot our red on red graffiti!

The next day got off to a slow start as our new Pilot, Omar, didn't arrive till about 10:30 and then we only motored at about 5-6 knots all the way, overtaking large vessels that all seemed to have to wait till critical bends in the channel were clear of boats heading north.

Crossing the American continents through Panama Canal and Gatun Lake
As we motored out through the last lock we saw a crocodile in the water!

It was 5pm when we eventually picked up the last available mooring at Balboa Yacht Club, and handed our lines and fenders to the boatman with the required $12 fee. Once we'd got ourselves sorted we got ferried ashore by the Club boat to the pontoon at the end of a long bridge to the shore. The plastic thatched bar of the Yacht Club soon delivered supper and cold drinks before we headed back to sleep, content that we were safely through this momentous crossing of the continent.

Monday 20 February 2017

Trial Run through the Canal in "Sea Bear"

On Friday we joined Chris as line handlers on his 28' Vancouver Pilot, "Sea Bear", and motored out to The Flats to await the arrival of the Adviser. There were two other boats there and it wasn't long before we all had our Pilot advisers on board and set off the 4 miles to the first locks. Here we rafted up and the advisers decided that our little boat wouldn't handle the lines, so the two larger ones handled the job. So there we were, four large blokes, teetering around the deck in blazing sun and no shade anywhere except under the tiny helmsman's bimini which was as low as my shoulders. We followed a cargo vessel and sail training vessel, Argo, into the lock.

Top left; Locked in behind SY "Argo.  Top Right; Panama Line-handling locomotive.
Bottom left; Entering the Pacific.  Bottom right; lock gates

The triple lock up to Gatun Lake is impressive, with 4 meaty locomotives hauling the cargo ship through, and 4 people dealing with our lines. They throw a weighted line across to the boat, where we tie on a 50 metre mooring line. When we have got to the right spot the dock handlers haul in the morning lines and drop the loop over a bolllard. The boats crews then have a hard time hauling these in to maintain tension while a maelstrom of water is unleashed, filling the lock at about 1 foot per second.

Once through to the lake we were directed to moor to a buoy for the night. Chris produced a good supper of roast chicken and pototoes and some welcome beer. Then Mark slept on deck and Chris in the cockpit while Steve Justin and I got berths below. Very hot night !

The following morning different advisers arrived at 06:30 and we set off to motor through the lakes. There is impressive forest cover to the water's edge and little islands from drowned hill tops. We spotted a couple of crocs too.

Once down the far side we were moored outside the Balboa Yacht Club at about 14:00 and went ashore for cold beers and a bite of lunch before our taxi took us and another crew back to Shelter Bay.

Altogether a very useful recce.

Friday 17 February 2017

The Marina at the End of the Universe...

On Wednesday our Canal Admeasurer turned up at Shelter Bay and I helped him to measure the boat from bow to stern.  There's quite a lot at stake, as if it is more than 50 feet long there's another $1000 dollars transit fee to pay.  So, before he came, we dropped the anchor over the bow and took the dinghy round the side.  His figure of 15.02 meters turned out to be quite a bit longer than the official length of 14.61 metres measured by the UK surveyor for the Registry, and I was really anxious that this would bump the price up. But in fact we scraped through with 0.18 metre to spare - about 8 inches. The protruding anchor is normally about 12 inches, so we would have been over the limit!

With that done I informed our agent to go ahead and book our transit for Tuesday 21st February if possible.  Then various other things could be scheduled, and we proceeded with lift out a couple of hours later and Tin Tin was placed on the hard for antifouling.  We will live aboard for a few days with a ladder to climb.

At 07:30 there is a radio net for cruisers announcing various activities and allowing people to ask for help with things.  Mark announced that he would be available to help any boat through the canal, and got a ready acceptance from Chris on his 28 foot boat. He also asked for three more people, so Steve, Justin and I all went along to meet him and will now be his mandatory four line handlers on Friday and Saturday, leaving Emily to hold the fort and chill by the pool. All good experience before our own transit, now confirmed for Tuesday.

That evening we were all invited to a bring and share BBQ to celebrate someone's birthday, which was a good opportunity to meet people. I brought our bluetooth loudspeaker and added music to the event, playing rock n roll requests for the birthday boy.

It seems that all sorts of nationalities wash up here en route to the Pacific, and some of them end up staying to get things fixed, and then stay on longer and longer.  So there's a little long term community running the activities, the radio net, buses into town, and so on.  We heard of people who had been here for two years, four years, seven years, living on their boats.  A girl from Falmouth got out a guitar and sang beautiful funky rap ballads. Someone else had brought a huge pile of chocolate cupcakes. We met Vasiliy and Nelly, who had sailed from Vladivostok, and were on their third circumnavigation, interested in the OVNI as their next boat. Bill and Jeanie were long term residents, doing up a cheaply acquired trimaran, and great party organisers. So much so that the marina has hired them to organise the Oyster Rally party to a suitably high standard in the nearby fort.

Another couple have stayed long enough to set up a sail loft, where April uses her sailmaker skills to earn a living for a while. Their derelict building is emblazoned with graffiti of a huge multicoloured Dorado, and a boy playing with a toy yacht.  I brought our spray paints and the stencil that Niall had made to put our mark on the building. It turns out that April & Keen encourage yachts to paint their signs there, so we weren't vandals.

The Sail Loft

No Problems, Only Solutions!
Wish list from the Alternative World Sailing Community


There's a fascinating group of sea hippies called the Alternative World Sailing Community, who are camped out at the back of the yard with a couple of old boats that they are renovating.  They try to persuade passing boats to contribute bits and pieces of equipment.  Mark and Justin went along to a talk by the charismatic leader, and came back impressed with his ability to motivate his cult of followers.

We stencilled Tin Tin's sign by the big Dorado outside the Sail Loft

Our great new stencil from Niall
Later a lot of marina children arrived on their way to camp in a derelict church in the jungle, where they had hung hammocks for the night.  The marina occupies just a few of the buildings built for a US base, most of which has now been swallowed by dense jungle.

I can see how easy it could be to arrive here, stay a little longer than intended and then find it difficult to leave the little friendly community, to head south into the unknown, from which it's hard to return.  Is this the marina at the end of the universe or maybe Hotel California which one can check into but can never leave.

Wednesday 15 February 2017

A day of organising stuff

Valentine's Day 2017

This morning I met our agent, Erick, and set about trying to get all our paperwork and permits set up to transit the canal.  There turns out to be a problem getting the boat officially measured in the marina now and we may have to shift out to the anchorage at The Flats.   Then our first chance of a transit could be Sunday or Monday. He organised his driver to pick us up at 13:00 to take us into Colon to deal with Immigration.  Then I took our gas bottles to be filled, tracked down the boatyard manager, Edwin Chavez, and arranged for the boat to be lifted, pressure washed, and then sandpapered and anti-fouled with the paint we bought in Curaçao.  I also arranged to have the boat fumigated, and got an electrician to look at our charging systems which are defying logic. Meanwhile the boat was a hive of activity, with Emily cleaning fridges out, Mark and Justin sorting out our leaky aft locker and the current leak, and Steve trying to get the washing machine to work again.

Then, once in the cab I phoned sailmakers who agreed to do a couple of repairs on the genoa and spinnaker.  Having driven through dense jungle, our driver took us a King Harry style of ferry to cross the water to Colon. Soaring over the river are gigantic concrete pillars on which a great arc of bridge is being built to cross this waterway.  Colon itself was run down, and often rather derelict.  Our driver took us to the Port offices and Immigration where we were roundly ignored, and only grudgingly signed through.

Our visit finished with a trip to the El Rey super mercado where we stocked up on stores that were running out.

San Blas to Panama

We reluctantly left the piercing blue waters of the lagoon and sailed on from Cayos Holandés, making our way in a modest breeze along a string of coral atolls. There are surprisingly large numbers of yachts around, hidden in small groups amongst these islands, savouring the solitude of Paradise.
Little islands sometime had accumulated unusually large groups of boats, probably because a local had set up a decent bar! One or two people had built huts in improbable positions, on a tiny outcrop of coral two inches above the water isolated in the middle of a submerged sand bar.

I altered course between several islets and sailed in a brisk wind up towards Chichimé, where we dropped anchor in a sheltered spot behind a wall of Palm trees.
Chichimé, San Blas islands
San Blas Ferry wreck
Out to our left were several wrecks perched on the reef - a couple of yacht hulks, and a large white ferry, marked SAN BLAS FERRY in large black letters along its hull! The cruising guide had warned us of this reef, the author having witnessed a boat full of backpackers being wrecked there.

We went ashore and found several local Guna families in huts, who ignored us, and quite a number of Panamanian families from the mainland staying in reed huts along the beach.  Although there was a rudimentary cafe, no one engaged with us when we tried to buy a drink or asked about getting food. Beautiful Mola cloth work was displayed outside some huts, but although we stopped to look closely at the intricate embroidery we could not attract attention to enquire the price!  The Mola style is very interesting.  Layers of different coloured cloth are cut in intricate patterns to expose the different colours, and the edges embroidered.

 The following morning we set off early in order to get to Colon before sunset. We rose at 05:30 to breakfast before raising anchor as the first hint of dawn light lit the water and have enough confidence to motor out and miss the reef.  It was great sailing along the coastline, dotted with little sugarloaf islands. The wind was much lighter than for the last month, and we put up our colourful Parasailor with its big horizontal orange stripe and made good progress.
Sugarloaf islands along the Panamanian coast
Approaching the breakwater to Colon we became aware of what a huge shipping hub this is, with our chart screen covered with icons representing ships.  Port control was very busy and organised, making us wait for three ships to exit before we were allowed in.   Thence it was a short trip along inside the breakwater to Shelter Bay where we were welcomed by the manager, John Halley, and Steve Tedbury who had arrived that morning to join the boat for a week.

Shelter Bay is effectively The Marina At The End Of The Universe, as from here there is no return. It is full of boats waiting for permission to enter the canal, and lots of like-minded adventurers teetering on the edge of a new beginning.

Saturday 11 February 2017

Stormy passage to San Blas islands

We raised anchor and left Cartagena by the Boca Grande entrance at 07:30 in barely any wind. However the forecast had been for 30-35 knots offering a fast passage down wind to our next destination in the San Bas islands.

In fact, as we've found before, the wind files downloaded from PredictWind generally underestimate the wind speed by about 10 knots, and this was soon confirmed as we got away from the influence of the land, as the wind rose to 40-50 knots. We held this wind in an ever rising sea all day and all night.

 At sunset, in very rough conditions, we were eating supper in the cockpit when a young Brown Booby flew round us and then settled on the rail, balancing precariously against the wild movement of the boat. He seemed unperturbed by four people in close proximity, preened his feathers and stuck his head under his wing, and went to sleep - still wildly balancing by dramatic movements of his tail.

I handed over my watch to Emily, but stayed on for an hour and a half to see that it was alright. However after I'd gone to sleep a tremendous wave crashed over the stern, knocking the bird into the water, and also knocked the horseshoe life buoy over the side, which then jerked the dan-buoy after it, igniting its flashing light. Emily made a brave attempt to recover it, an thankfully didn't get washed over herself. But was too late and the lifebuoy, and dan buoy went off into the night flashing away. Shall inform authorities so that no one starts looking for us.

I was on watch again as dawn came, having been sleepless worrying about our approach to the coral reefs of San Blas in the storm. In the event we spotted mountains in the haze before we saw the low palm fringed islands. I set a course through a wide gap in the reefs, and as we passed we could see the 5 metre swells rear up and curl over in a dramatic crash of foam on the shallows.

We were soon past and into calm waters we motored up to the Cayos Holandés, making our way past strangely named islets ringed with white coral sand, and crowned with tall palm trees. There were ten yachts scattered around the various anchorages, and I made my way up to a long stretch of pale blue shallow water which cruisers have named the Swimming Pool. The water was churned by the unrelenting gale, but the huge force of the incoming swells was completely dissipated on the protecting reef, leaving the water undisturbed.

We anchored and found that the water was flowing under us crystal clear and blue at 1.5 knots as millions of tons of surf flowed calmly across the reef and through the lagoon.

The dinghy was soon unhooked and we struggled up wind to a little caricature of a tropical island, almost akin to the tiny world of Le Petit Prince! We were met on the shore by the resident villager who charged us each $3 for landing. Under the palm trees there was a natural close-clipped lawn. the family hut stood near the beach, where the sole inhabitants - husband, wife and three children - lived.

We walked round the entire islet in a few minutes, drunk with being on dry land, improbably few inches above the blue lagoon water. Occasionally surges of swell that got through the reef slopped over the grass and outside Palm trees. Amazingly there was an open well of fresh water in the centre of the island. It turns out that this is where the boats bringing backpackers come for a break, and there was a rough picnic table and benches set up. As an incongruous touch two poles had been thrust into a sandbank just awash, which held a volleyball net for games splashing about in six inches of water.
I sat and sketched the view across the lagoon while the others relaxed in different ways - Emily sunbathing on the sand and Justin in a hammock.
Tin Tin anchored off Cayos Hollandes, San Blas islands 
Back on board, relaxing after our rough night sail, Emily produced a fantastic Sri Lankan curry with all sorts of side dishes which we thoroughly enjoyed in the cockpit while a tropical downpour lashed the sunset.




Friday 10 February 2017

In Drake's wake - Cartagena de Indias

It's a couple of days since we arrived from Santa Marta in very strong winds with sustained 55 knots gusting 66 knots at times (a near hurricane). We crossed the Magdalena river outflow at dawn about 8 miles out as planned, keeping a good lookout for logs (saw none) but crossing a crisply defined boundary between clear and muddy water. We hauled up a bucketful to taste, but it seemed just as salty as the sea. With big following waves we were surfing into deep troughs, but the autopilot coped well most of the time. However during the night Justin had to grab the wheel to straighten the boat up when a large wave slewed us across, and the following waves didn't give "George" time to correct. As we approached the Zamba Bank, built up by the river sediment, the water shallows from 400 metres to 40 metres, and I was quite concerned that we might find dangerously breaking surf. However the transition turned out to be uneventful, mostly because I think the strong following current smoothed out the effect of the shallows.

With so much wind we arrived a good three hours earlier than planned at Cartagena. As we sailed southwards the city skyscrapers grew ever taller.  Even several miles off shore we could hear heavy pounding music.   I called the Port Authorities and got permission to enter via the narrow pass in Boca Grande. After Sir Francis Drake sailed his fleet in on New Year's Day 1586 and held the city to ransom for a month, a defensive underwater wall was built across this wide entrance to stop further pirate raids.

Cartagena - approaching from the North in big seas.

With Port Control keeping in close touch we were authorised to anchor near the Club Nautico de Cartagena amongst many other yachts.

I went ashore and after various enquiries managed to get hold of an agent called David to handle the Customs and Immigration formalities as required. The two I had emailed before hadn't answered!

The following morning we were cleared in, and by midday were free to all go ashore. We walked the mile or so to the old City in sweltering heat, eventually collapsing under a cafe sunshade in the Plaza San Domingo, where I sketched the bronze sculpture of a reclining lady of very ample proportions, a colourfully dressed palanquero, or fruit seller, and an elegant Colombian lady. Later at another cafe the waitress saw my sketch, and said "That's my grandmother, Angélica Maria!" I think she meant the fruit seller, but now given her own proportions I wonder whether she meant the reclining nude!
Who is Angelica Maria? - Fat lady or Fruit Seller?

The streets of Cartagena are a wonderful maze of colonial architecture, with overhanging wooden balconies, huge double doors studded with metal bosses that allowed the master to ride his horse in, and small inset slave entrance portals for daily business. The colours are vibrant ochres, reds yellows, blues and greens, but subtle and elegant rather than the rather less sophisticated Caribbean colours we have seen on other islands.

Cartagena - view from Café Ficci
Justin and I were accosted by two rappers with a boom box, who started performing at us.  I decided to rap straight back at them.  Something like....

You keep doin' this stuff
I don' think it's funny
Holdin' yore hat out 
askin' for money!

I'm well practiced at this 
ad libbing' at will
keep my grandchildren happy
it makes car rides a thrill

So leave me alone
don't shout in my ear
turn off your music
and get outta here!

I kept it going along these lines and they stopped to listen in amazement and then left us alone after a Respect knuckle tap!

We met up with Kate Kendon, her sister Deb and friend Sue, for a walking tour of the city which was fun and then explored until we found a much recommended restaurant, La Mulata, which served a simple but exciting menu of fish. I had ceviché de Rubalo, which is raw fish cubes steeped in lime juice. Very good.
Cartagena from the ramparts - sunset drinks at the Café del Mar

We said farewell to Kate et al as they are off to Santa Marta next. Quite amazing to meet our aunt in Cartagena!  We learned that our cousin Jack had also been here before and had made the trip from the San Bas islands where we are headed next.

Thursday 9 February 2017

A close shave!

I met our agent, David, at 09:00 and gave him our passports to clear out of the country. My plan is to leave at first light for the 24-30 hour sail to the San Blas islands en route to Panama.

Then we all headed to town, Emily to a wifi spot to update her blog, and the rest of us to Citadelle San Filipe. The fortress is almost pyramidal, with stone faced walls sloping up to a peak. It was built after the French sacked the town, and was impregnable when attacked by Admiral Vernon with his 183 ships and 23,000 men. There was not a lot to see other than the massive walls, but then we found a small doorway with steps leading down and down, through passageways lined with alcoves, where explosives would be stored so that they could blow up under the attackers feet. It got quite claustrophobic as not all the lights were working and sometimes it was a question of feeling ahead in the dark, suddenly finding a right angle bend and then groping one's way along hoping there wasn't a pit to fall into!

Inner bastion of Citadelle San Filipe, Cartagena

Then, very hot and thirsty, we walked across the causeway into Getsemane, where we found a section of the city that had not all been improved, painted, gentrified and boutiques. This proved most enjoyable, and we turned into a dark doorway. Beyond which a little green courtyard beckoned with tables. We ordered Arepas stuffed with various things. An Arepa is a 4" circular pitta bread, opened to receive a filling - I had fish in coconut and chilli. Delicious!

Plaza de Santorini Trinidad, Getsemani, Cartagena, Colombia
Then I said that I needed a haircut and, stepping outside, we immediately saw a sign BARBER UNDER A TREE pointing through a gate into a dusty yard.  Sure enough, under a tree as advertised, was a barber shaving a young man. The tree trunk was painted pink, and the house walls beyond were a orange ochre, so it was a colourful sight. We settled ourselves in a ring of plastic chairs to wait our turn in the hot afternoon.  Eventually I got a very short back and sides and a beard trim that involved rather a lot of cut-throat razor work. Mark followed me for a haircut too. The last time we both went to the barber together might have been at school in Saffron Walden, or perhaps even earlier in Malawi. All very atmospheric and memorable but, at about £35, very expensive!

The Barberia does Mark under a tree
We wandered and explored for the rest of the day, and then went back to the marina where I settled up with agent, David, and retrieved our passports and international Zarpe document that authorises our departure from Colombia.

We also enjoyed meeting Paul and Jane Thornton and their daughter Lily and their energetic (and horribly mutilated) rescue dog, Skye.  It was interesting to learn of their 4 years touring Mediterranean and Caribbean, aiming to now head north with a view to visiting Guatemala.

We did some shopping to finish up our Colombian pesos, and then headed back to Tin Tin for supper. With the wind picking up we should now have a fast trip south to the San Blas islands, where we will pass a couple of days, and then on to Colon on the 13th to meet Steve Tedbury, who is coming to help us through the canal to the Pacific.

Sunday 5 February 2017

The kindness of strangers

We made good progress overnight and by 10:00 were roaring along towards Santa Marta, in hazy conditions. I reviewed our timing and decided to put in to the Five Bays national park for the day, so that we would arrive at the right time in Cartagena.

As we closed the coast it slowly emerged from the haze to show massive mountains which rise to 5000 meters and are often snow capped. Reading the pilot information I selected a sheltered bay that would allow us to anchor and we were soon out of the crashing waves and motoring serenely up a fjord like bay. Violent winds gusting over the mountains struck the water surface sending whirling plumes of spray across the bay. Steep slopes rose either side coloured vivid ochre orange and with grey green scrub tinged purple. Tall olive green cacti punctuate the slopes. Ahead a little collection of huts seemed to be more sophisticated than the reed shelters at our last stop, and a thatched verandah at the water's edge suggested a well thought out bar or restaurant. We edged out of the squalls into still air and dropped anchor close to the beach. It was very peaceful with no one about, and we felt that we had found a perfect place to stop for a bit, until a motor launch from the National Park came and told us that there was no anchoring allowed here, and indicated that we should go to Taganga further on.

Back out to sea and in such rough conditions, I didn't fancy the short cut inner passage past Isla Aguja, where currents and waves produce "el choque choque" or "bump bump" according to locals. So around the outer island we went, surprised to see small motor boats fishing with lines from poles each side, rather dwarfed by the turbulent water. As we turned back in towards Taganga the wind outdid its earlier efforts by blowing steadily at 45-55 knots. However we were soon into the bay where the apparently sleepy fishing village turned out to be a vibrant tourist party centre with speedboats whizzing to and fro full of life-jacketed tourists. The beaches were packed with colourful humanity in vibrant swimwear, while swimmers, pedalos, canoes and paddle boards ventured off the beach. We passed a coastguard speedboat and nervously gave them a wave. Our documents state that we are going to Cartagena, so we may be allowed to drop anchor for a bit on the way there. Once we had anchored the coastguard came over to tell us we were in the wrong place. Off we went as directed, and chose another spot. This time two policemen on the headland waved us away to a further beach, where finally we settled just offshore from a pulsing Latin beach band.

There we stayed enjoying the sights and sounds, swimming and relaxing. Various canoes and boats came and said Hola!   Later, whilst I was trying to sketch the wonderful orange and purple of the mountains, Emily and Justin were hailed by a Canadian lady swimming by. Turns out that Leslie regularly spends the winter in a beachfront house here. We invited her to come aboard for a rest and had a good chat, learning lots of interesting information about the area.
Taganga Bay, Colombia
Later Leslie came by again in a boat and, having learned that we couldn't set foot ashore because we're in quarantine until Cartagena, brought us a delicious takeaway supper from a good restaurant ashore. Such a kind and generous act! She couldn't stay, but her timing was perfect for supper and we sat down to enjoy beautifully cooked fish, beef and peppers, salad and a spaghetti carbonara, topped off by "non GM fruit"! Wonderful! Thank you Leslie!

We were thrilled to get news that Alice & Matt's son, Felix, has been born today safely. Being close inshore we had good phone links to get photos of the little lad, and to call Alice to congratulate her. Very excited PapaPaul, Aunty Em and Great Uncle Mark on board!

The wind continues to howl down the valley, and the forecast is for more tomorrow. We will set sail at midnight aiming to reach the mouth of the Magdalena River just after dawn, in order to cross its outflow in the light, as it is reputed to wash down logs and other debris.

Then it's full steam ahead for Cartagena, aiming to be there before darkness falls at 18:00.

Saturday 4 February 2017

Landfall in Colombia

Having taken a few hours break, anchored illegally in Aruba, we finally set sail for Colombia after lunch, making fast progress on a dead run in 35 knots of wind. The wind eased after nightfall and we put up a full main sail and Genoa to keep speed up, but then at about midnight we needed to reduce sail and Justin, Mark and I struggled to reef it down. Rolling it into the boom sounds easy, but in a gale the battens flap around and get twisted, and the whole things jams up. So then we hoist the sail up again, and try to get it to roll better the next time. It took us three attempts, with the engine on trying to hold the boat head to wind, with waves crashing over us. Our downwind sailing seems so smooth, but as soon as you need to go in the other direction one realises how rough it is!

After that the wind died again and we had a peaceful night sailing, arriving off Cabo de la Vela at about 10:30. We turned in between the off-lying islet and the headland, in a wind that had increased to 40 knots again. The desolate ochre desert landscape came down to a long sweep of beach around a vast bay behind the headland. Little villages with waterside huts were clustered along the shore with canoes drawn up on the beach. Except for the square metal tower of the lighthouse and a glimpse of a Toyota pickup it could have been just as the Spanish conquistador saw it in 1499, when he named it because he thought the pale rock was a distant sail.

We motored along the bay in the howling wind, and watched a canoe ahead of us paddling shorewards laying out nets. Then we spotted plastic water bottles here and there and realised that these Guaraji tribespeople had strung nets out from the shore. As we made our way carefully along we eventually picked up one of these almost invisible net lines round the rudders and had to drop anchor to sort it out.

Finally we came to anchor at the north end of the bay in 3 metres of water, but still a good half mile out. Incongruously a flock of kite-surfers were here, racing back and forth with their colourful kites. A fishing boat full of curious young men came out to see us and hung alongside making conversation. Then, somewhat nervously, Justin, Emily and I went ashore to explore, but Mark elected to stay onboard because he was concerned about our illegal landing and the thought of years in a Colombian jail!

Ashore we hauled up the dinghy and strolled along the beach where a few young people were watching the kite surfers race past. The front was lined with huts made of split reed or bamboo, some with hammocks strung in rows, where presumably the kite-surfers sleep. Once in amongst the huts we found little café shacks and lots of kite surfing schools. We stopped in a shady café where a couple of Argentineans were playing cards and, with the help of Emily's best Spanish, managed to order fish for lunch and a banana and passion fruit smoothie.

We were soon engulfed in a tide of children selling woven goods followed shortly by their mothers. Grandmothers and aunties. Since we only had dollars, buying things wasn't easy, but the Argentinean couple kindly offered to change some for us. I wish I'd bought one of the Guaraji bags which were very fine.  Our fish, when it eventually arrived was excellent red snapper.

Guaraji woman weaving/crocheting at the kite surfing village in Cabo de la Vela, Colombia
 Back on board we set sail again hoping to make another stop tomorrow evening before reaching Cartagena. Big winds and big seas as I write, but Emily produced a great sweet potato tagine for supper.

Friday 3 February 2017

Unplanned stop in Aruba

We left Curacaoat midnight yesteday and with Gale force winds arrived much earlier than expected at Aruba.   I hadn't planned to stop here as we are trying to meet up with our aunt Kate in Cartagena, Colombia but given the speed we are making in 35-40 knots of wind I decide to anchor illegally at Oranjestad for breakfast and lunch without clearing any formalities .  Now we are about to set off at 13:30 to Colombia on a notoriously rough passage, aiming to arrive tomorrow morning at Cabo de la Vela, Colombia to spend the day at a village on the edge of a desert. 

We can be followed at www.whatthefocque.blogspot.co.uk where there is also a sidebar link to a chart with our track. If you sign up as a follower it will email you every annoying episode that I write :-) but for the chart you have to go to the website. There's a link to Mark's blog as well with loads of his excellent pictures. 

Thursday 2 February 2017

Curioser and Curacao!

Our day sail to Curaçao brought us along a rugged coast, with great scarps like shark fins rising dramatically under low woodland and terminating in jutting overhangs over vertical cliffs. We sailed along past a high peak chiselled into ledges, below which a factory complex had been built on a little reef protected bay, Fuik Baai. It turns out that the mountain, Tafelberg or Table Mountain, is being removed steadily on a 125 year lease for its phosphates.

Arriving off the dramatic coast of Curaçao
Our entrance into the secret harbour of Spanish Water was hard to see - a narrow cleft in the rocks and suddenly we were gliding past a long immaculate mooring pontoon on our right, the other side of which was a resort beach and swimming area full of rather large merry Dutch tourists, with a palm shaded hotel complex below the mountain.


Boca Santa Cruz, Curaçao.  Hillside covered in tall cacti and scrub.

Spanish Water was a surprise, and very different from what I had expected. A wide expanse of water bounded by low wooded hills interspersed with deep Inlets. The surprise, however, was the extent of high quality housing development around the bay, with charming waterfront cottages and little docks, and red roofs stretching up over the lower slopes. Various Marinas were up different arms of the lake, but once anchored we could find nowhere that welcomed us and provided clearing in facilities.

We stopped briefly at the Curacao Yacht Club (all motor yachts) and found that we would have to drive into the city of Willemstad. Needing fresh supplies we walked a mile or so up hill and down dale to the Van Thiel area to find a supermarket, but also found a coastal beach resort to see out the sunset.

Curaçao Yacht Club
On the first of February we caught a bus into Willemstad, relieved to be routed through everyday homes rather than the glittering well-to-do holiday villas. So much variety of cottages, shacks and more substantial houses, decorated with intense colours and considerable style.

The city was amazingly colourful with grand Dutch buildings lining the main port entrance painted in vivid yellow, blue, red and green. The bus dropped us by the floating market full of old wooden Venezuelan craft selling vegetables and fish.
Venezuelan boats selling fish and vegetables along the waterfront in Willemstad, Curaçao

  
The vibrant colours of the Willemstad waterfront
 
Willemstad canal with cruise liner in the background in the middle of the city

 I then spent an hour in Customs before emerging to find the others in a waterfront cafe watching the ship traffic, and the amazing floating pontoon bridge that swung open to admit huge cruise liners, coastguard cutters, tugs, cargo vessels and even yachts. Two small foot-ferries shuttled back and forth whenever the bridge swung open.

We then all trekked along the other side of the port to Immigration and Port Authority offices which took us till 2:30, by which time everyone was needing a cold drink and lunch!

I then spent a productive afternoon in a shady courtyard using wifi to arrange an agent to transit Panama, a berth in Shelter Bay marina and clean off and anti fouling, and to scan and send all the necessary documents.

The bus took us back at sunset and, still needing more time to send documents, we stayed ashore and enjoyed supper in a lakeside cafe before retiring to Tin Tin.