Saint Martin: Saint of Broken Boats

Sint Maarten's Bridge across the Lagoon dressed in Christmas Best

Somehow almost 3 weeks vanished.  Simpson Bay Lagoon must be the Caribbean’s answer to the comely bird-women whose charming voices lured ships and sailors to an untimely end.  We didn’t end up on a rocky shore but rather too easily filled the time doing routine chores like food shopping and laundry, including a challenge to spend well above our lifting limit in Island Water World.  And then, there were the inevitable boat repairs.  We found Mike the electrician again, to help with AIS and VHF radio stuff but compensated by making a special effort to dine regularly at Lal’s – for the best Indian curries & garlic naans this side of India.  We marvelled at the gathering crowd of superyachts, then commented on the challenges for them.  It must be de rigueur to have at least 3 bunny ears (satellite domes) in colours to match the hull and a crowd of staff (also dressed to match) to wash acres of windows and keep a stable of water toys in good working order.  Too much work…give me one cranky Cap’n any day!

Yes, we are really leaving Sint Maarten, for now...

Eventually, a suitable weather window opened for a comfortable ride across to the BVI.  We paid our dues, refuelled, and then make the 10.30am bridge lift to once again meet this season’s swell out in the real world.  Our plan was to anchor for the night on the French side in Marigot Bay, then at some ghastly early hour, up anchor and make for a daylight arrival at an anchorage off Prickly Pear Island.  Serious coral reefs lie off Virgin Gorda (the Fat Virgin – thank Columbus for that name!) and are best negotiated in daylight. 

We had some sun but a stiff breeze to traverse the BVI's

We didn’t linger in the BVI, though made a detour to take in the famous Foxies Soggy Dollar Bar on Jost Van Dyke, but didn’t stop.  Not only was a cruise ship anchored off, but the bay was cluttered with mooring balls, reputed to cost 30 to 40 USD per night.  Indeed, the BVI generally has tuned into mooring fields to accommodate growing numbers of charter fleets, mostly catamarans.  Cheap cruisers (like us) now need to search hard for suitable anchorages.

Made the anchorage in Culebra just on dark.  Luckily it wasn't busy!

Culebra, in the Spanish Virgins, and a favourite laid-back anchorage, was in our sights.  Thank goodness, it was true to form and we settled in for a few days to recover from our crossing of the 2300m deep Anegada Passage with it’s mean reputation.  Thankfully, it was a pussy cat for us – this time!

The gathering of the fleet for an after-caroling party. 
It was really nice to see some sun too

We arrived in Culebra’s Ensenada Honda on Christmas Day and were pleased to find it near deserted; just a handful of cruisers and a few local boats on moorings in a calm and well protected spot.  Mr Resident Turtle swam by so we took that as a sign of approval.  After a few days rest, we made (well, changed) plans.  Rather than take the more direct 4-day route from Culebra to Turks Caicos, we’d skim and day hop Vieques and Puerto Rico’s southern coastlines ending in a short stay in Puerto Real Marina with time perhaps to explore ashore (Walmart then old San Juan for GS and West Marine for the Cap’n).  The marina is on Puerto Rico’s west coast and, with easy access through the tricky Mona Passage, we could take a day off our sail plan to Turks Caicos.  That was the theory, anyway!

That settled, we prepped for an early morning departure.  Locals though, had other plans.  It was Sunday and we were woken very early (4.30am) to a rousing chorus of Christmas carols, Latino style, at a boat dock by the foreshore.  Eventually, GS went to find out what was the go!  The dock was filling with local craft all decked out with Christmas lights and decorations.  A party was well underway.  Jet skis buzzed about looking like floating slippers.  At 5.30am, with carols and the hum of boat engines ricocheting round the harbour, the fleet assembled in line and the Christmas Boat Parade took off for a very leisurely, if somewhat unsteady, round of the bay.  Not a neighbour or house seemed to miss out on a personal round of Feliz Navidad (Jose Feliciano from the 1970’s).  So simple, yet such an inspiring event full of neighbourly bonhomie.  

Culebra's 2mile deep harbour is well protected by surrounding reefs. 
Remind me.  Why are we leaving?

As we were now up early anyway, we up-anchored and headed off for Vieques with the sounds of Feliz Navidad ringing in our ears.

(Photos to follow, we are trying to share one working computer.  I knew we should have stopped at Walmart...)

Big Steps, Don’t Look Back!

Eventually we had to leave our little Puerto Real hidey-hole and make a move (anti-clockwise) along Puerto Rico’s windswept south coast where anchorages are plenty, though mostly behind protective coral islands and reefs.  You’ve just got to get into them!  The Trades, of course, were showing signs of settling into their regular routine here – a jolly decent easterly blowing madly during the day (on the nose) and nightly calms.  That translates to sailing (well perhaps motoring) in unknown waters – at night.  On local advice and to ensure a Thornless Path*, we decided to leave early but not necessarily hit all the stops; just to get the mileage done in big steps…    

We left Puerto Real at 3am, rounded Cape Rojo to meet more relaxed, but still existent winds and, using the night island lee, arrived at our destination, Ensenada, before 9am in calm waters.  We were surprised to find a rural village with a peaceful anchorage tucked in the mangroves and all to ourselves.  Now this may have had something to do with the imposing fertilizer factory in the large bay next over, but, as with Puerto Real, it was nice to be amongst locals.  Roosters crowed, dogs barked, builders hammered a damaged jetty (and could they talk - in Spanish!) and vehicles roared by, but we slept on.  Then, naturally, we stayed an extra day to recover, and to watch manatees, with their big whiskery noses, snuffling about in the mangroves.  Oh dear! We were quickly learning about slowing down “island time”.   

Ensenada was once a well-off sugar producing area 

Our next departure was set for a slightly earlier (after-dinner) slot.  It was dark when we glided by Gilligan’s Island, not seeing much at all.  “Well, perhaps next time!” said GS.  The weather gods were kind to us though and we had a reasonable motor so gave Ponce (PR’s second largest city) a miss and made for Salinas.  Rather than attempt the narrow channel into Salinas in the dark, we threw out the anchor amongst the mangroves and yet again, crashed for some shut-eye.  A few hours later, the Cap’n guided us into possibly the world’s most challenging fuel dock before we re-anchored out amongst abandoned hurricane hulks, long-term live-aboards and more shy manatees to recover.  At least our Cap’n found time to relax here with a little spot of snorkelling over coral.

Salinas Sunset

Our final stop before tackling the challenging east coast was Puerto Patillas, once a quiet fishing village, now a local beach destination with Mr Whippy, local bars & restaurants, families celebrating Mother’s Day and the usual Sunday crowd out for a good time.  WJ3 became the go-to rounding mark for “I-can-go-faster-than-you” jet ski hire patrons.  Whilst we enjoyed the exuberant spirit of this crowd, we soon decided enough was enough and it was time to make a break for the hopefully quieter Virgins.  Well, not before well-wishers came by to bid us a cheery Mother’s Day too!  

Ahh! The early morning calm before the (Mothers Day) Sunday picnic storm...

After the flat, shelf-like coastline of Puerto Rico’s north coast, it came as quite a surprise to see the rugged south and east coasts.  Travelling at night had not allowed us to fully take in the lush landscape of this mountainous island.  “Well, perhaps next time!” said GS.  

*Bruce Van Sant's, 2006 “The Gentleman’s Guide to Passages South”.  It's a bit of a cruiser's bible now....sadly no longer published.