After more than three weeks stranded in Haiti the coupling for the engine finally arrived. Neil expertly fitted it, we had a quick test run then said goodbye to all our friends on Ile a Vache and departed on 7 March. We weren’t sure where we were going but we were heading east and would decide later, first of all we had to round Cabo Biata. We sailed to Bahia de las Aguilas in the Dominican Republic to wait for a break in the easterly trade winds.
Bahia de las Aguilas on the west side of the cape is a magical spot: a 10km stretch of white sand backed by limestone cliffs, the turquoise water is crystal clear and we had the bay to ourselves. A dirt track leads down from the north to a lookout tower halfway along the beach which is the focal point for boat loads of tourists who descend at weekends from Pedernales, a small town further up the coast. We listened to the weather forecasts via the SSB radio and after three days the wind was forecast to back to the NE – time to leave.
As we rounded Cabo Biata we hit a strong west setting current and had a 15kt wind on the nose. For the next 24 hours we motorsailed making several big tacks to try to get out of the current and gain some speed but were making less than 2 kts. At this rate we would need more diesel but were reluctant to stop in the Dominican Republic as we had heard many stories of rampant extortion by officials. Finally the wind backed; we were able to turn off the engine, raise the gib and start sailing.
When the trades blow from the NNE the wind funnels down the Mona Passage between Dominican Republic and Puerto Rico gusting up to gale force with rough seas. We checked the forecast again and found we had a window of 36 hours to reach Puerto Rico. We had just enough time and just enough diesel to make it! The crossing was boisterous but it was a beautiful night, we had a full moon and were making good speed. As we crossed the reef on the west coast of PR the wind was blowing 25 kt and we were relieved to reach Puerto Real and drop anchor in the bay.
Everything was “normal” when we first arrived in Puerto Rico. We checked in at the marina and the next day we hired a car to go to the airport to complete the paperwork with Customs and Border Protection. On the way we stopped at Rincon, a remote and rugged peninsula known for great beaches and good surfing, and had a relaxed lunch. On the way back to the marina we did a little shopping.
The next day we were in lock-down. This came as quite a surprise as we had been out of touch for a week and had no idea how serious the corona virus crisis had become. Suddenly all the shops except food stores, banks, medical facilities and garages were closed. Luckily we still had the car so we made a bee-line for the supermarket. The doors were shut but we were first in queue, and were amazed how quickly a long line built up behind us. Little did we know this was to become the “new normal”.
Initially things were quite relaxed in Puerto Real: the bakery, fish shops and mini-mercados were open, restaurants were closed but could sell take-away, people were chatting in the streets and I was going out running in the mornings. Two weeks later a new statute was issued: now we are no longer allowed outside the marina except for medical matters and shopping has to be channelled through Dario, the owner of the marina store who is incredibly patient and kind with our inflated expectations and poorly defined shopping lists.
More importantly the rules regarding entry to Puerto Rico for non-US vessels changed: only vessels that had arrived on or before 14 March were allowed to remain – we had arrived on 14th, we had made it by the skin of our teeth and could stay, phew! Several boats we know of were allowed to re-fuel and then turned away with nowhere to go. Almost all the islands in the Caribbean have closed there borders now, it must be very frightening to be a Covid-19 refugee.
So we are keeping ourselves amused onboard. We don’t have Freeview or Netflix but we have been following a couple of local mysteries through boatwatch.org, a network set up to aid mariners or vessels that are missing or overdue. The first is an amazing story from a missionary in a small rural village on the South coast of Haiti. A local fishermen rescued two young Caucasian children from a life raft drifting at sea and his family has been taking care of them for several months. No-one knows who they are and where they have come as the girls do not speak Creole, Spanish or English.
The second concerns Bob Peel, a very experienced sailor and captain of several Sea Shepherd vessels, who set out from Grenada bound for Puerto Rico in his yacht Kalayaan. Soon after he left his emergency locator beacon issued a distress signal but stopped transmitting four days later. Nothing has been heard from him since 19th March and drift analysis is being used in the search – we hope he washes up in his life raft somewhere soon.
Distant Drummer has certainly benefited from our self-isolation: with time on our hands we have been attending to boat jobs that have been lurking for quite a while. With a new coat of varnish the salon and forward head are looking very spic and span but now we have run out of sandpaper and varnish. I have scraped all the barnacles off the hull and cleaned the prop and Neil has serviced the engine which is now in great shape. I don’t think we can put off polishing the steel much longer!
Not much else to report. We hope you are all keeping sane and healthy in these crazy times!!
Hugs from the marooned sailors