2001: A Sea Odyssey

Samana Excursion

[Received Dec. 31, 2001]

During the days preceding the first log entry below, I daily keep the Sirius II resupplied with stores and water so as to be prepared to depart Luperon on a day’s notice. I was becoming anxious to get underway. I had overstayed my self-imposed welcome. In fact, my visa had expired, but no one seemed to care.

I had come to know and appreciate Don on Intrada more and more as he gave a daily weather analysis from information that he gleaned from listening to various reports on his SSB radio. We both wanted to go to Puerto Rico, as did Serenade and others, so I worked out a plan to leave when they did.

One reason for wanting to leave with others was for safety: I still did not have a working navigation light. At night this red and green light enables other boats to better see me and determine my course. The folks on Agreement I, a French-Canadian boat, heard of this and offered me the one that they had taken off their friend’s boat, the burnt out Magellan I, the light that I had coveted for so long! I had to modify it to fit my configuration, but it worked.

During this time it was becoming more and more obvious that I was not losing the weight that I had gained during Tax Season where I do nothing except sit in front of a computer for 12 hours a day. I was enjoying cooking and eating the fresh foods that I was able to get every day. Eggs, cheese, fried potatoes, eggplant, fresh-baked bread, etc., are not conducive to losing weight, especially if accompanied by several bottles of El Presidente grande cerveza. So, for a change, I did what was right: I chose to give up beer. What a guy.

Finally, I was in contact with the officials in Key West by letter and e-mail trying to insure that, after four year’s of waiting, I had a slip waiting for the Sirius II at the City Marina at Garrison Bight upon my return. This is a separate story and is appended to this page as “The Intrigue of Small Town Politics.”

When it appeared that a favorable window was developing, I moved the Sirius II out to the outer harbor to make it easier for a nighttime departure. Serenade and Moon Glow were already there for the same reason.

Thursday October 25. Depart Luperon at 0100 for Sosua with Intrada (Don and Doreen) and Serenade (Bill and Debbie). Had trouble picking up the green channel marker in the dark; nice to be able to follow someone else out. They used their spot light. Mine was available but I couldn’t get to it and man the helm at the same time. Motor-sail the entire night into light trade winds. Arrive at Sosua and drop anchor amongst the party boats in front of the reef in 20' of water, but with a 120' rode the boat itself is in 60' of water. The other two boats were right behind me. Before long the "navy" comes by to inspect our papers and to let us know that this is not a port of entry and we can't stay here. None wore uniforms and when I ask about identification, one man shows his pistol as if that is the only ID required. It is. Despite the instructions from the pistol-packing official, I consider going ashore to mingle with the tourists, but did not want to go to the trouble of putting the dinghy in the water. Nor did I want to swim in to shore. Very rolly anchorage. As the day turns to night, the band from the hotel on the north shore becomes very obnoxious. This is not a cruiser-friendly anchorage and I am looking forward to a nighttime departure.

Friday October 26. Ready to leave Sosua for the next harbor, Rio San Juan, at 0100. I notice that all my waypoints to Rio San Juan have been erased from my GPS! Don't know why. (Later I discover that the route was not erased. In a hurry in the early morning darkness I misread "displayed" as "deleted.") Don on Intrada reports that his anchor is stuck. He breaks his windlass while trying to raise it. Motor sail entire distance. Again, we arrive around 0900 and anchor in the southern most anchorage for better protection in case of winds out of the north. Doesn't happen. I do some swimming and bottom cleaning. Needed it. Both the boat and me. It was only a month ago I had the bottom completely cleaned in Luperon. Later I swim over to Serenade for a beer. (Don on Intrada doesn't swim; bad back. Thus, they don’t join us.)

Saturday October 27. Depart Rio San Juan for Escondido about 0100. Some discussion between Doreen and Debbie as to whose turn it was to lead. Apparently they are the navigators, although Doreen claims Don is the navigator on Intrada. Later I learn that Debbie is prone to seasickness and is almost incapacitated while underway. Motor sail, except for few minutes at dawn. A rainsquall ruins the fun of sailing by changing the wind direction. Almost have a 30# Dorado for dinner, but after half an hour and a broken rod, it breaks the line and swims away. Escondido is a very picturesque anchorage, surrounded by tall mountains and a lovely beach. But like the previous anchorages, not much protection from anything except the usual trade winds. Thus, not much incentive to stay over.

Sunday October 28. Underway about midnight, as this passage is much longer then the previous ones. We follow the coastline close in, less than a mile off shore. I fall behind after rounding Punta Balandra as I have two fish to bring in. They are small, but very tasty as I discover later. King Mackerel, I thought, but the meat of one is white and the meat of the other is dark, like tuna. Tastes the same to me, and to Don and Doreen, as I give them a filet of each.

Arrive in Samana o/a 1000 and head for an anchorage about 1/2 mile shy of the city dock. An official-like person zooms out in an outboard launch to inform us that anchoring is not permitted here. "Need protection, need protection." He wanted us to move closer so as the local officials could better see and provide protection for our boats. We did.

As an aside, throughout all of Latin American I have never been as concerned about the security of my property as in the DR! In Luperon there was a boat break in about once a week, until many of the boaters installed alarm systems. Here, in Samana, all of us bring our dinghy motors aboard every night and lock our dinghies to our boats. Word has it that outboard motors are much in demand here, as many of the locals would like to brave the Mona Passage and go to Puerto Rico.

Went into town about 1300 to catch the football game between Seattle and Miami. I soon discover that there is no bar or restaurant in all of Samana with a cable TV! Chico, the official-like local, flags down a motoconcho to take me to a place where I could find a cable TV. Thirty minutes later I end up at the locked gate of the owner of the closed restaurant where there is supposedly one such TV. But not today.

Monday October 29. In retrospect, I should have left today for Puerto Rico, as one boat did, a boat that was here when we arrived. Never heard back from her, so assumed that she made the crossing. The Mona Passage has three characteristics that can affect navigation. l) It is exposed to the open ocean and the trade winds really rip. Or, when there is a weather disturbance to the north, huge swells pass through this bottleneck. 2) It is a passage between two large islands, creating tricky currents and winds. 3) The solar affect on the land mass produces disturbing squalls and thunder storms in the late afternoon and evening extending westward from Puerto Rico. These are the predictions for the next several days.

Wednesday October 31. Today is the anniversary of Don and Doreen: 42 years they have been married. It is also Halloween and the day before the new moon. With this as inspiration, I compose the following ditty using the names of all of our boats:

"Under the MOONGLOW, SIRIUS II wants to SERENADE INTRADA down the CHAMPLAIN EXPRESS. Are you in AGREEMENT ONE?"

Cute, huh?

Our flotilla consists of three American boats and three Canadian. There are a few other cruising boats here, but have not seen the owners. Two of the Canadian vessels are French-Canadians. For some reason, locals from the DR don't like French-Canadians. One day one of the French-Canadians reported that a “gang” of locals met him at the dock and threatened to kill him! I had previously been told by Chico that this situation was created when the French-Canadian chose not to buy his fuel at the city dock, where he ties his dinghy every day, free, and gets free water and free garbage disposal. Rather, he took his fuel containers into town to buy diesel at about 25% cheaper. I think this would upset me too were it not for the fact that the city maintains the dock facilities and the fuel distributor, for whom Chico works, is a separate, private entity. (The first day here, in anticipation of leaving soon for Puerto Rico, I had Chico bring me out 25 gallons of diesel. This befriended me to Chico, although that was not necessarily my intent.)

Actually, I've gotten along well with the French-Canadians. It was Martin from Agreement I who made it possible to get the navigation light from the burned out hulk Magellan I. Here, when I started talking about forgoing Puerto Rico and instead, sailing toward Jamaica and Cuba along the southern side of the DR, Jerry from Champlain Express, immediately made his paper charts of the south coast of the DR available to me. For some reason, this coast is not included in my charts of the DR.

Thursday November 1. Today is Debbie's 45th birthday. A celebration is called for. Lunch at the Orange Restaurant. I break my fast and enjoy some El Presidente. A lot of El Presidente. The owner must have assumed all “Norde Americanos” like Hank Williams' songs, as that is what we hear all afternoon. TJ, a local Americano who has a pool-table bar nearby, comes by to help us celebrate. He introduces me to Alexandra, who I assume is not a “working girl.” Wrong. Are all under-35 women in the DR working girls? Or is it just the pretty ones? I get the usual spiel: “I have to provide for my bambino,” who happens to be back in Puerto Plata under the care of his grandparents. Ya, Ya.

Monday November 5. A rolly afternoon in heavy seas in Bahia Samana. After a nice lunch that I had just prepared, I hear a loud noise as if something broke. I step up on the companion way and see a huge catamaran chewing up the stern of the Sirius II. Already the Monitor, the wind steering device that sits on the stern of the Sirius II, is in pieces. Apparently, the wind shift to the south following hurricane Michel had dislodged my anchor and the boat had dragged down on the Cat that was about 100 feet away, tied off on a mooring. I start the engine, with the idea that I would power away from this bad scene, only to discover that the short mooring line of the Cat is under my rudder and propeller; I cannot move. The wind and waves bang the Sirius II into the Cat; the anchor rode holds her there for another push. I grab the boat hook, with the thought that I would push the boats apart to keep the damage from spreading. No way. The boat hook crumbles. I watch as the Cat flattens the bar-b-que. In no time one of the solar panels is reduced to tidbits of glass, stanchions are bending, the arch that supports the solar panels collapses, lifelines break, the 12” cleat on the stern breaks. I tried putting fenders between the two boats. They wouldn't stay in place with the rampant seas. I call for help on the VHF radio. Nothing. And the wind is not falling off. Glass is everywhere. Chunks of fiberglass are falling into the cockpit. Finally, Martin and Petra from Agreement I arrive in their dinghy. They can't get close enough to help. Same with Jerry and Louise from Champlain Express when they arrive. Meanwhile, a 30’ powerboat comes out from the pier and attaches a line to the bow of the Sirius II and tows her away from this trap. Once clear of the anchor rode of the Catamaran, I was able to use the engine to find a new anchorage, as far away as possible from this bad scene.

For the next four days I do nothing except try to repair the damage, at least enough to get me back to Florida. Martin and Jerry spend many hours helping me. I take the stainless steel parts to the local welder for repairs. Fortunately, I had some stainless steel pipe on board which help the welders piece the arch and the stern pulpit back together. Agreement has a sewing machine, which Petra uses to repair the canvas bimini.

Friday November 9. My birthday. I invite the entire cruising community to share lunch with me: Bill and Debbie (Serenade), Jim (Moon Glow), Don and Doreen (Intrada), Jerry and Louise (Champlain Express), Martin and Petra (Agreement I) and Catalina, one of the Dominican waitresses whose birthday also happens to be today. Is this coincidence or what? She is not a working girl. She has a regular job. She is under 35 and she is beautiful. At last, an apparent crack in my impression of the stereotypical Dominican woman.

Return to Luperon

Sunday November 11. I weigh anchor and move the Sirius II out to Cayo Leventado, about an hour’s distance back toward the opening of the Bay. The rest of the fleet is already there in preparation for departure to their next port(s). The four boats en route for Puerto Rico leave at dusk. Champlain Express and Sirius II are scheduled to depart for Luperon the next morning, but we change our minds when we awake to a significant weather change. During the night Serenade encounters engine problems and returns to Samana. We also return to Samana Monday as the weather is threatening.

Tuesday November 13. Finally, with a favorable weather window, we depart Samana at 0545. Leave with Champlain Express, Jerry and Louise aboard. They had attempted to sail to Puerto Rico prior to my arrival in Samana, but returned when they experienced transmission problems even before leaving Bahia Samana. Actually, they determined that the problem was not so much the transmission, but a fisherman's net caught in the prop. But they were nervous about the transmission and now have decided to return to Luperon instead. I chose to go with them due to the uncertainty about my rudder. The rudder proved to be ok, but the depth sounder all of a sudden went wacky. Scared me to death when all of a sudden I notice, in the dark of night, it is registering 6.3 feet of water! I had been playing with the sails, trying to balance them so as the autopilot would hold the course, more or less following Champlain Express in the distance, and had no idea how much water to expect. The Sirius II draws 5.5 feet, probably more with all the stuff I have aboard. I come to a stop, and slowly in the rough seas and wind try to work my way away from land. Finally, when I have the boat under control (still registering about 9 feet of water), I do a fix on the chart and realize that I have more water then the echo sounder can measure. So now I have a depth sounder problem!

Smooth sailing initially, but later encounter nasty weather, very rough seas at Cabo Cabron and then at Cabo Francis Viejo. I now have to remain at the helm, as the autopilot cannot hold the course in the following seas and erratic winds. About midnight we make radio contact with Larry on Babylon, whom we had met in Luperon. He was en route to Rio San Juan and was enjoying a pleasant nighttime sail. By this time the seas had laid down, and he was receiving the benefit of the nighttime offshore breeze. (Heard from others after arriving in Luperon that Larry had bypassed Rio San Juan for Escondido and lost an anchor there.)

We arrive at Luperon right on schedule and I follow Champlain Express in, as I was unsure of my depth sounder. Actually, it started registering depth at 82 feet. As with the original SignetMarine depth sounder that came with the boat (destroyed by lightning a year ago in Cuba), this one also will default on "4" when the bottom is too deep to send back an echo. Now I know. By 0900 I was all set to enjoy the day and clean up the boat, and me, after the rough passage. (Lost one bottle of red wine that I was saving for some important occasion, which doesn't happen very often.)

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