Simkins' ARC Adventure 2009

In the 1800s the primary business on Key West was wrecking and salvaging.  Many of its first western immigrants were shipwrecked off the coast of Key West and settled there.  In light of this historical tidbit and the rather pale chart indicating shallow waters and reefs all round, we decided it would be a good idea to leave Key West in daylight.  We also preferred to arrive in Bradenton in the daylight.  We’ve not sailed in there before and our chart indicated a particularly narrow, shallow channel into Bradenton Beach and our marina.  None of us fancied another anxious nighttime entry like the Dominican Republic, scanning the water with the high-power torch to spot channel buoys.  Although our predicted journey time was a day and a half, there was no way to jig the departure time around without having to do two nights’ of night sailing, which is why we set off at sunset.

Enjoying the evening off Key West

There was absolutely no wind, so we motored along as darkness fell and soon started another silly word game, this time ‘in my carpet bag…’  I’ve rarely had more unusual contents (mostly due to Tristan’s contributions) which included a goat-skin rug , a cod-piece from Bravissimo and – of course – Squiddly Diddly!  After dinner the wind did start to pick up, but with Alanis Morrissette-esque irony, the required wind, when it came, couldn’t have been from a worse direction – right on our nose.  Gusting 25 knots, it slowed our motoring right down to about 3 knots and began to whip up the sea.  We tried putting in some long tacks but, wildly off course on either tack, we seemed to make even less progress that way.  So our brave little 60hp Perkins engine pushed us on through the night.

I struggled to sleep up in the forward cabin, my whole body frequently jogged up in the air as we slammed over waves.  A bit like when you leave your tummy behind going over a bump in the car!  It was time to pull out the big guns – Simon & Garfunkel on my iPod to get me to sleep in stormy seas.  Sleep came in short stints and it was almost a relief to get up for my midnight watch.  The wind had calmed a little and we were doing 4 knots but my heart sank to see how little progress we’d made.  I took the helm and did my best to smooth out the bumps for the sleepers below – probably completely ineffectually but it keeps your mind busy!  On a plus note, with no stars, moon or light pollution, the phosphorescence was crazily luminous!

The next day was slow, damp and the temperature dropped so we were all donning jumpers and longer trousers.  There was a sea fog around us that lasted well into mid-morning.  What a shame that our beautiful sailing trip should end with such grey weather.  We were getting intermittent phone signals and kept in touch with Mum and Grandma who were excited about our arrival and making plans to watch us enter via the lifting bridge at Bradenton Beach.  As we motored along our eta shifted from 6am to 8am to 10am.

Another night of manual helming and more mists brought us closer to our destination and at about 10am we began to approach Longboat Pass.  On a beach to port of the lifting bridge, a car started flashing its lights – Mum and Grandma!  We carefully angled in to the beach having spotted the first of our channel markers.  Rather worryingly, we could see surf breaking next to the port channel markers indicating shallow water.  We knew that there was not enough draft for us to the right of the starboard channel markers.  On top of that, the seas were heaving us up and down with about a metre’s difference between top and bottom of the swell.  Very tentatively we entered the channel and very gently we ran aground.  Dad put Maximillian into reverse and she popped free.  We reassessed the chart and channel markers and re-angled ourselves in, pointing straight at the breaking surf and executing a sharp turn into what we hoped was the middle of this little channel.

Mum and Grandma wave from the beach

Mum and Grandma were now on the beach waving and jumping up and down.  We seemed to be making good progress up the channel so Tristan, Sarah and I hopped up on the bow to wave back.  It was lovely to see them there and be so close to the end of our journey.  We called up the bridge on the VHF and they raised it just for us, accompanied by a loud siren that made me jump out of my skin and wonder what we’d done wrong!  The bridge guy joined in with the enthusiastic waving as we passed through and called out a welcome to us.

Approaching the bridge at Longboat Pass

Through the bridge we found ourselves in another small channel with markers leading off in all directions.  We could see pelicans standing in shallows just metres from our boat and so we were all keeping an eye out and confirming opinions on the correct channel for us.  Dad called up the marina on the VHF and they didn’t answer so we just carried on in.  We’ve been booked in for a while and spoke to them in Key West to confirm our berth so it should be fine.  We spotted the marina and yes, more channel markers and this time they’re helpfully numbered – brilliant!  Slap dab in the middle of markers 3 and 4, we touched the bottom.  Honestly, we couldn’t have been more in the middle of the markers!  The marina told us previously that their channel is 6.5ft deep – Maximillian draws 6ft so it’s close, but the maths is on our side.  Finally the marina came on the VHF giving us some rather crucial information which, given that they knew the boat’s specs, might have been useful to know earlier.  The channel is 6.5ft deep at high tide!  Which was not for another 3hrs.  Hmm.  Dad gunned the engine and we popped free again, reversed back the way we came and… ran aground.

This time we seemed to be quite well stuck and being British there wasn’t much for it but to make a cup of tea and wait.  The tourists on the pier seemed to be hanging on, interested to see what happened next and leaning on rails or settling on the benchs ready to wait with us.  No sooner was the hot tea warming my cold hands than Dad and Tristan were fiddling with the engine and suddenly we were afloat again.  Abandoning my tea I was back on fender and line duty as we slowly crawled into the marina and this time we made it!  Mum and Grandma were there and soon we are moored up and exchanging hugs.

This last leg has been a little chilly and grey but what a great trip overall!  1200nm in just over two weeks through some of the most beautiful waters and exotic destinations.  The day’s sailing out of Tortola stands out as a highlight, along with the friendly marina in the Dominican Republic and the laid-back, geniality of Key West.  And now, a treat – a home, a stable bed and dinner at the Red Lobster to celebrate the end of another awesome journey aboard Maximillian! 🙂

What a lovely boat!

I have such rose tinted glasses about Key West – this is my third visit there.  I’m sure it can’t all have been cocktails and sunsets and also I have a vague recollection of it being excruciatingly hot and humid on one of those occasions, but my memory gladly smooths over any rough edges and I love it there!  I think it might be all the cocktails and sunsets.

This visit was no exception.  Within minutes of calling up the marina on the VHF we were being given the friendliest welcome by Bill who gave us directions in to the marina and told us to watch out for the wave continuator on the right as we enter.  “I’m sorry, did you say waste incinerator?”  We ask as Bill’s voice had crackled a little on the radio.  “No, it’s a wave continuator.”  Bill replies, trying hard to be clear and explaining what one of them looks like for us.  “Thanks Westin Marina, we’ll look out for the wave con-flum-flum-flum.”  Dad muffles the last word and Tris, Sarah & I get terrible giggles – this is exactly the sort of reason I don’t like going on the VHF!!

Bill is there to meet us at the pontoon and we’re soon moored up and excited to be there.  Within half an hour of arrival I’m enjoying chocolate coated KeyLime pie on a stick.  Within the hour we’re at the airport with customs officer Graham who incinerates our fruit and veg and gives extensive tips on the best seafood and sushi restaurants in Key West.

Hot tub!

Two hours and I’m soaking in a hot tub after a swim (the marina has a pool – hurray!) Three hours and it’s time for cocktails and sunset.  By midnight we’ve had Mexican food, more cocktails, clapped and whooped country rock singer Gerd, grafittied and stapled a dollar to the ceiling of a bar, eaten a stick that may or may not have been sugar cane, thoroughly abused the statues outside of the Old Customs House (see Tris for photos) and

Our dollar

are tiptoe-ing back onboard trying not to wake Dad.  Key West 🙂

Sadly we have to leave the next day.  The curse of our trip has been that we cannot stay long in all these lovely places as there are flights to catch and jobs to get back to.  Happily we have the day in Key West to fill with sightseeing, cracked conch and the most amazing strawberry tempura but by 4pm we’re singling up ready for another 2 days’ sail.  Exiting the berth has it’s complications but between Dad’s excellent manoeuvering, Tristan’s clever suggestions and mine & Sarah’s phenomenal crewing, we make it look like child’s play – thank goodness, as there was a boatload of sunset catamaran tourists looking on!

The crew enjoying sunset at Key West

Out in the north channel there is not a breath of wind but it is outstandingly beautiful.  The water is glassily smooth and pink from the amazing sunset in progress.  We’re enjoying it all with a chilled glass of rose when tragedy strikes our crew and sorry to say, I’m on the helm when it happens – the sad demise of Squidly Diddly.  Taking advantage of our ambling pace, Tristan once again lays out his fishing line, determined to finally catch something and loading his new line with brand new weight and lure purchased in Key West.  He’s so proud of his lure he’s named it Squiddly Diddly and so confident of its fish-catching potential that he’s bought special gloves  to handle the fish that will be caught.  The line’s been trawling out the back for about 30 minutes when I slightly alter course to avoid a fishing buoy thoughtfully placed in the boat channel.  What I fail to spot is that it’s connected to another buoy about 7m away and suddenly Tristan’s reel starts to spin out.  He leaps up thinking a fish may finally be snagged on his luckless line but what we have in fact snagged is the fishing buoy.  But Tristan is not giving up on Squiddly yet, we bring the boat around, retracing our path in hopes of unravelling the tangle but alas, to no avail and we must admit the loss of Squiddly Diddly and cut the line.  A sad evening for Tristan and his fishing record continues to be fish-less.  One day Tris!!

Day 1 – Day of the Whale

We left the Dominican Republic bright and early on Sunday morning and despite all of our protestations that we were going to have another swim in the pool before leaving, none of us were up early enough of course.  We’d done a little shopping in the local town yesterday so we felt well stocked up for our stint across to Key West.  Puerto Plata was really interesting although the ride there and back was death-defying.  The preferred form of transport is moped/motorbike and the road rules appeared flexible at best or possibly non-existent.  We saw many mopeds laden with 3 or 4 riders or with luggage/shopping stacked up on the back.  I don’t know how they stayed upright and weaving uncontrollably just seemed to be a normal part of the proceedings.

Ocean World Marina office and the Navy tower

On leaving the special Ocean World Marina, we hadn’t been sailing long when I spotted what looked like breaking waves against some rocks off to starboard.  It turned out not to be rocks at all but a large whale making his slow way in the opposite direction to us!  I have absolutely no idea what sort of whale he was, but he was quite big and brownish looking if that’s a help?  All of us leapt up on deck to have a look – even Dad who’d been so reticent about the dolphins.  As far as I recall that was probably the most memorable bit of our first day out, the rest was all plain sailing, which is exactly how we like it.

Day 2 – Day of the Eggs

So it turns out the best before date on the 12 eggs onboard was a few days ago and as a result we had eggs for breakfast, lunch and dinner on our second day out.  Tris did fried eggs for breakfast, I made ham, egg and chips for lunch and then there was omelettes for dinner of course.  It was also on the Day of Eggs that Tristan made some comments about my hair that I didn’t much care for – the words ‘Garth’ and ‘Wayne’s World’ are not what you want to hear in relation to your own hair!  I’m at sea and hair care is difficult people!  He tried for a while to dig himself out of the hole, insisting it was a good thing (?) but the turning point towards redemption was when he made pancakes for pudding – using eggs of course!

Day 3 – Day of Showers

We tried out our solar shower on Tuesday – basically a black bag that you fill with water, it soaks up the sun and then there’s a hose with a shower head on for you to spray yourself with warm water.  I fear we didn’t look as glamorous as the lady on the front of the packaging as we staggered around on a rolling deck, erratically waving the hose at each other.  Tristan tucked some shampoo and shower gel into the waistband of his shorts, whipping them out at appropriate moments like some kind of John Wayne of al fresco showering.  It was funny, slightly risky and above all very refreshing!  The other shower was more of a torrential downpour at about 9pm that evening and shortly had us all decked out in waterproofs or sheltering in the cabin below.  It was quite a rainstorm and I was quite relieved that it had passed in time for my night shift!

Day 4 – Day of Graunching

Regrettably not as fun as it sounds.  On Dad’s shift on Tuesday morning the autohelm began to make a horrible graunching sound and started slipping, unable to hold a course.  It clearly had become tired of doing the lion’s share of steering on this trip and soundly dumped it all in our laps.  So from now on out it was manual helming all the way and a new appreciation of the luxury of an autohelm.  Sarah stepped up and began to do her share of the helming to spread the load and also had a go at a night shift with Tristan in the cockpit.  However, an alarming wind change put her off and understandably for someone new to helming, she didn’t feel up to a shift in the dark.  Tristan ended up doing a 4hr shift to start, I don’t know how he did it, I’m usually seeing things about 2hrs into a manual helming shift!  He should have woken Dad & I up but didn’t, so then Dad and I did 6hrs between us, 1hr on/1hr off, sleeping in the cockpit in between.  I’m hardly surprised Dad chose to sleep in the cockpit as when he originally went to bed, he found a fish in it!  An honest to goodness flying fish that had miraculously leapt with such accuracy as to clear the hull, soar threw the hatch and land on his bunk.  Of course, Dad thinks it was actually a Tristan prank, but I do believe Tris when he says not.  In all events, the first night of manual helming wasn’t too bad and as the sun came up, Sarah was back on the helm allowing us to get a little extra kip.

Day 5- Day the Wind Held its Breath

Sometime the night before we lost the wind and it continued to hold its breath for pretty much the rest of the day which is how we didn’t arrive in Key West on day 5 as expected.  Even with the motor on, we had a crossways current slowing our progress.  We thought we’d noticed a cooling in the weather as we travelled north but the wind shone with such ferocity on Wednesday that it put paid to that theory.  We all tried to find the little patches of shade on the boat, preferably with a little breeze from the boat’s movement.

What a marvellous day to be at sea!

The seas calmed and in the afternoon Tristan noticed something odd approaching us off to port.  It was a sea turtle!  All encrusted with barnacles and moving very, very slowly – it looked like hard work!  We had spaghetti bolognese for lunch and corned beef hash for dinner, both very tasty.  Unusually for us, our supplies are running low and we even used up the last packet of instant mash – disaster!  Luckily Tristan found some overlooked bottles of rose under the floorboards which cheered us up no end.  I’m sure we could make it to Key West on nothing but rose if the need arose!!  Actually there’s still about a million tins of chilli down below and one Fray Bentos pie, so I’m sure we’ll be fine!

The sun goes down at about 7pm at the moment so there’s a few hours of darkness before night shifts start at 10pm.  We’ve been inventing all manner of games to pass the time and last night’s was a sort of categories game.  Going around the cockpit we took it in turns to come up with an answer.   A little way into the game it was Dad’s turn and we all waited expectantly for his animal beginning with ‘N’.  We’d used up quite a few and were wracking our own brains for a new one so we didn’t at first notice the length of the pause.  The pause went on, and then on.  “Are you awake Dad?” said Tristan – nope, our skipper had fallen asleep on us unnoticed in the darkness of the cockpit!

Day 6 – Land ho!

The last night of watches was very wearisome.  We’d decided to try a 1hr on/2hr off rotation, sleeping in our bunks in between rather than hunkered down in the cockpit.  Trust me, it wasn’t the best idea ever!  It sounded like a good idea in the day but in fact it meant summoning the will to drag yourself out of your bunk 4 times at 2 hour intervals.  I have to say on my 3^rd watch I was low on energy and enthusiasm.  I have a nice bruise on my thigh where I didn’t quite hop over my leeboard as usual so much as levered myself over it!  The 3^rd watch was nice and hallucinatory.  The boat managed to sound just like Tristan’s voice even though he was tucked up in bed asleep, I thought I heard him talking several times and also began seeing lights on the horizon (most likely stars or phosphorescence).  When I asked Dad at the start of my shift if the wind had dropped he said no, despite the fact that he’d switched the engine on to motor and the wind gauge had dropped below 4 knots – weird!  And why did I even ask in the first place when I already knew the answer?

At about 11.30 in the morning we picked up the buoy for the main ship channel into Key West!  We were quite excited as we’re about a day later than we’d planned.

Approaching Key West

The waters were a beautiful turquoise as suddenly there were boats everywhere when we hadn’t seen much more than a trawler or container ship here and there for the last few days.  We moored up at the Westin Key West Marina who gave us a very warm welcome on the VHF and saw us safely into our berth.  Dad was soon off to customs and Tristan and Sarah went to buy us Key Lime Pie on a stick each!   (PS I was tidying the boat, not skiving!)

A big hello to all our avid readers, yes both of you!  Katharine has asked me, her younger brother, to write a blog.  She told me that I had to do it because my last blogs were very funny.  I think she is rather exaggerating my comedy ability and hasn’t realised the extreme pressure a statement like that puts one under.  I am also at a disadvantage this voyage because the subject of most the funny incidents is not aboard this time.  Mark we are missing your…   well we are missing you.

We departed Tortola at 0820 on the morning of the 24^th January.  Old Grey Beard was in a frustrated mood because we couldn’t push off until the harbour office opened at 0800 for him to settle the bill.  The crew on the other hand were relieved that this meant he could not justify rousing them before 0700, which in my opinion is still too early!  I think the laidback Harbour Master must have got a shock when he opened the office door to find Captain Simkins queued up outside like a 16 year old girl waiting for an X-Factor audition.

On Old Grey Beard’s return the lines are slung off and we set out to sea.  Cruising away from the Islands we pass a secluded cove that Sarah and I had attempted to get to with the Skipper’s new inflatable dinghy.  The story of this journey, it may surprise you to hear, was not straight forward;

Deciding that a snorkel at a nearby beach would be rather nice Sarah and I commandeered the inflatable and outboard engine.  As I am casting off the lines Father says to me “just be careful that engine has been a little temperamental but it should be OK”.  This, I fear, was information I could have done with before casting off our line to shore and rapidly being gripped by the current.

It seemed the seasoned Skipper’s warning was unfounded, the engine ran perfectly as we headed for the beach that appeared secluded on the map.  As we rounded the head land we were surprised to find a beach with a grounded rusting ship on it.  This left no room for us to get ashore.  With the engine purring away at this point and giving no hint of frailty I decide to venture slightly further afield.   We spotted a lovely beach on an adjacent, uninhabited island.  All we needed to do to get there was to go with the current across a busy shipping lane and travel around a mile and a half.

As intrepid adventurers we set off and made surprisingly good progress.   This should have been my first warning as to the strength of the current.  As we passed the southern most headland of our Island and had to dodge a fast moving ferry the hairs on the back of my neck start to rise.  It was very much the same feeling you get when driving a car rapidly into a hard corner and you start to wonder if you are travelling just that bit too fast.  Still we are committed now being halfway across the channel.  As we get to within 50 meters of the beach I start to relax, we have made it!  Then a noise no rubber dinghy captain likes to hear.  A very gradual winding down of our engine and then silence.  I try to restart the engine but to no avail.  While I thrash the it’s rip cord we are rapidly being taken past our beach and island by the tide.  Next stop I fear would have been Bermuda!

Resigned to the fact that the engine was kaput we broke out the oars.  The small dinghy proceeded to spin in small circles as in my haste to get ashore before we headed out to sea I put a little less force into my rowing than Sarah on her side.  When we started to work as a team we made very gradual progress against the tide. Eventually we landed with but a few meters of our safe haven’s shore left.  We pulled the dinghy up the beach and I started tinkering, as men do, without a clue what to look for.  We had a full tank of fuel so it couldn’t be that…  Or could it, I had a flash back to when I last borrowed an outboard from Old Grey Beard and ended up floating in the Beaulieu River.  This on a first date with a rather unimpressed looking woman who, following rescue, I heard very little from.  The problem on that occasion had been that the fuel tank connecter was incorrect for the outboard and as such no fuel was getting to the engine.  Surely my Father would have learnt from the mistake back in the UK and not duplicated it now.  I have a look in the small header tank on the outboard and to my surprise it is bone dry, the bloody tank in the base of the boat was not feeding it!  Furthermore it appeared to me that the connecter was for a different outboard!

When the rage subsided and I returned to my usual zen-like state I started to grapple with the logistics of getting the fuel from the large fuel tank into the small header tank without a funnel.  Luckily Sarah had a hair grip that I used to remove the jubilee clip from the end of the fuel line.  I then used the primer pump to fill the tank on the outboard.  With a few pulls we were back in business!!!

Deciding that we had pushed our luck enough and that we ought to head back to the sanctuary of our island we shove off and gun the motor.  Half way across the channel the engine slowly starts to give up.  Just before it stalls it roars into life again, as we pick up speed Sarah and I look at each other and say “phew”.  In response to this the engine dies instantly without warning.  We are again in the shipping channel surrounded by a heaving sea and being swept away.  As I start to pull the rip cord a passing dive boat crosses our path and the skipper gives us the “Are you OK?” hand signal.  Out of habit I respond with “Yes were OK” and they speed off as I wonder to myself why I responded that way?

As we pass the point we last set off from the engine finally comes to life again.  We both stare at the far shore as we plod towards it against wind and current.  It almost felt that if we stared at the distant shore hard enough it would start coming to meet us.  This time the engine, although not happy, delivered us to within 30 meters of the shore before coughing and dying.  We decided to row for it.  Circles again.  A brief argument. Then team work and we start holding our position but making no headway.  At this point we decide to parallel the tide to reach the beach and again just make the tip of the island the boat is moored on.  I leap over the side as soon as it is shallow enough for us to stand.

There is a funny phenomenon with water where when looking through it from the surface it acts as a magnifying glass.   With this in mind the 4 foot I perceived was more like seven and I disappeared under its surface.  Sarah could not help but laugh even after I voiced my displeasure.  I finally tug us into the shallows to notice the sea bed is encrusted in spikey urchins.  I quickly procure Sarah’s size 5 flip flops and hope I don’t kick one.  Finally we get the engine to start and it then sees us back to Maximilian.  I feel a sense of relief when we tie up alongside.  Old Grey Beard asks “How was the outboard?”  and we responded “A little unreliable”.  I haven’t had the courage until now to tell him quite how near we were to being rescued by the Coast Guard.  Ironically we were gone for over two hours and we did no snorkelling.

I will sign off now for I fear I may have bored you all enough with my tale of incompetence!

Early morning in Soper's Hole and Tris returns from the showers

Once clear of the islands surrounding Tortola the wind increased to 15 knots, the sun was shining and the sea had a gentle swell. We unfurled the genoa, hoisted the blooper and raised the mizzen. We were tracking along at 7.5 knots in what I can only describe as the perfect day for sailing.

As I stare out to sea marvelling at the gold flecks of sunlight playing on the water I am surprised to see a giant ray leap clear of the water to land dive and then leap again. It was a truly magnificent sight that I doubt I will ever see again. The ray must have been 12 foot across flexing its powerful wings as it cleared the surface. With my limited grasp of marine life I believe that often fish leap clear of the water to evade a predator. I then start to wonder what manner of deep sea monster is big enough to scare a giant ray into leaping to the heavens, twice! As the implications of this turn cogs in my mind I decide to stop dangling my legs over the side of the yacht, just for the next hour or so.

We continue to surge west in fine sailing weather to be greeted by a pod of five dolphins who dive and jump in our bow wake. We all rush to the bow to observe the elegant creatures. We all can’t help but smile as the dolphins play in the bow wave and occasionally roll to one side and look up at you through the water.

Dolphins in the water!

Since starting the voyage I have read a novel entitled “Three Ways to Capsize a Boat”. Ironic I know. In this book the author describes the joy of seeing dolphins and how, no matter how salty the sea dog, you never tire of seeing them. He clearly did this in much more flowery and intellectual language than I am capable of. With this in mind I was surprised when for a moment I glace away form the majestic creatures and notice Old Grey Beard sat in the cockpit. Not only is he not up front marvelling with us but he is intently staring at his new rubber dinghy, now stored on the aft deck, whilst trying to rub a scuff from its bow. Obviously the poetry in the author’s heart and his perception of the world are not aligned with the practical outlook of my father.

In the afternoon of the first day the skipper tells me that he thinks it is best that we skip our stop in Puerto Rico to save time. The crew agree and we continue east toward the Ocean World Marina and the Dominican Republic. Neptune is smiling on us and we make good progress toward our destination. The crew enjoying glasses of rose at sunset and a great deal of time reading.

On the afternoon of the last day the wind dies and forces us to make a night approach to Ocean World Marina. We are not overly worried because the map showing the entry channel has more lit buoys than Heathrow has approach lights. This should be a piece of cake! As we skirt down the coast we are struggling to spot our Christmas tree of lights, musing that they must be lost in the cultural lighting of the city. We have to take evasive manoeuvres to dodge a ship that appeared anchored then all of a sudden surged forward and across our bow. This is already not an easy approach.

We eventually spot a dilapidated old light marking the entry to the marina. It has the appearance a battery powered torch on its last legs. Stranger still is the lack of channel maker lights. We can see a few in the distance but none at the entrance. We head towards shore using a search light which enables us to pick up the 5 buoys that mark the deep water. Only two are lit and they give a very vague suggestion of the safe water. With a great deal of shouting we manage to navigate the treacherous approach and enter the harbour.

On the bow I see what appears to be 3 youths waving at me with their mobile phones. I initially think, well that’s rather nice. Then their waving becomes more frantic and they seem to be motioning us to the mooring where they are stood. Could it be these 3 young men of barely 18 are the harbour officials or do they just get their kicks on a Friday night by marshalling unsuspecting yachts men into shallow water to run them aground?

Very cautiously we approach the quay all the time I have the spot light shone into the water to get an idea of the depth. We are helped to tie off and the oldest of the group introduces himself as an Officer in the Dominican Republic’s Navy. He is well spoken and obviously knows his stuff. We welcome him aboard just as another member of the Navy, in uniform, joins us. They take our details and search the boat. Luckily the 5 paying immigrants in the engine room remained undiscovered!! They bid us good night and leave. On entry and exit from the boat they are both very careful not to tread on the cockpit cushions which are blue and white stripe and easily made to look dirty. In fact my Mother has been known to put hits out people who have left foot prints on them. I think they may have heard how dangerous it is to anger the Mother Ship. All in all a very warm welcome.

As they leave we pause to take in our surroundings. A marina with very few vessels in it. A large Casino with live band blaring out Tequila! The Casino we now realise was the large red lit building that Sarah had believed to be an alien space craft. All this in front of Dolphin World, the Dominican Republic’s premier water park.

Ocean World Marina at dawn

Our two day stay at Ocean World Marina was fantastic including an extremely dangerous taxi ride to the market, swims on the beach, illegal swims in the pool, illegal entry and ejection from Dolphin World and sundowners. All of this will pale against the true highlight of the stay.

We decided on our last night to take in the show which was much publicised at the casino. Bravissimo was heralded as a Vegas style extravaganza embodying all the colour light and passion of the Caribbean! Its tag line “One night, a thousand memories!” I know you are probably thinking that is quite a claim, is this possible?!
I am happy to say that yes the night did live up to the hype. We started with a 3 course meal at a restaurant that could have been the set to the little mermaid. The food was delicious and the waiter very quickly realised that I was a man who wanted to make the most of the “all the beer and rum you can drink offer”. We polished off our steak and lobster main and it became apparent that in the Dominican Republic I am very approachable. I met a vast array of people who all seemed to want to talk to me about topics ranging from British pre World War Two history and poetry to the quality of the steak. Even while in mid conversation at the dinner table people were coming up to have a chat. This has never happened before and I don’t know what to attribute it to but it was rather amusing none the less. Maybe I looked like a member of the Bravissimo cast and they just wanted to meet someone famous.

After the meal we were ushered upstairs to where the assault on our senses would begin. I was first through the door, I think mainly because I ran up the stairs with the excitement of a school boy on his way to play soldiers in the park. I may have also been fuelled a little by the beer. The door opened onto what appeared to be a large rather drab conference hall. I jumped as my hand was grasped by what appeared to be a six foot three transvestite with wings and a feather crown. To say this caught me off guard is an understatement. I was lead by Priscilla to my seat at the front of the stage. I thanked her and then only realised that the cast were all queued up to usher guests to their seats and that the rest of Maximillian’s crew had been escorted behind me. No sooner had we all sat down to look at the cast when the dancer directly ahead of us decided to do some stretches. This placed us but a few feet from his lycra clad bottom which was at eye level. He then proceeded to lift one leg into a vertical splits. You can guess what was now all too close at eye level.

As if sensing my discomfort Manuel (we were getting on well at this point) appeared with another free beer. I thanked him and the lights dimmed for the show. They were correct in their advertising the show was vibrant, well choreographed and passionate. I believe every third word may have been BRAVISSIMO but I guess they just wanted us to remember the name of the show. It commenced with the leading lady in a very skimpy outfit being lifted into the air by the men whilst doing the splits and then spun around. I think this sparked the interest in some of the men who had been dragged to the show to please their wives. The next spectacle was the entrance of the leading man, who looked like a past-it cruise ship entertainer. He strutted onto stage singing with a strong voice. He too was clad in tight lycra trousers stretched to breaking point over a large cod piece. We assume it was a cod piece, if not he was enjoying his performance a lot!

We were amused watching the backing dancers who approached centre stage with elegance and smiles and then whilst flowing to the back of the stage (still in view) stomped like disgruntled teenagers with a lack of interest. The show built in tempo and the costumes became more elaborate. At one stage the women dancers entered the stage from amongst the crowd dressed as candelabras with strings of crystals dangling from under their arms. One unfortunate girl got a little tangled up and ended up with her arms tied to her sides whilst still dancing. Then at the back she showed escape skills that would have impressed Houdini. Quick as a flash she had freed her arms and continued the show.

The finale saw the dancers all dressed as creatures from the Caribbean. Rays, parrots, turtles, and zebras? The best costume had to go to our leading man though he was dressed as a wave made of feathers with three dolphins leaping out of it. How he still managed to dance and sing whilst carrying a contraption of that size I will never know. All too soon the show came to an end and we were ushered downstairs to the casino to lose our free chips, which we did in record time. With the odds being 50/50 we did very well to loose four times in a row on red.

Bravissimo!

We made our way back to Maximillian in high spirits following an evening that did hold a thousand memories. We got a good night sleep and again were allowed to sleep in to 0730 because the harbour office didn’t open till 0800 for Old Grey Beard to clear immigration. After the skipper managed to wake the drunken immigration official from his chair we managed to clear and put out to sea for the longest leg of our journey yet to Key West!

If anyone fancies seeing some of Bravissiomo please ask Katharine next time you see her. She has a few little snippets on her flip. Our one regret of the stay in the Dominican Republic was that we didn’t get a photo with the cast of Bravissimo!

Here we are in the Dominican Republic, in a marina somewhere near Puerto Plata I think. We arrived on Thursday evening in the dark which was interesting considering all but one of the starboard buoy lights marking safe passage into the marina was out. As we rounded the harbour wall we could see a large casino parked incongrously off to one end like some giant spaceship come to land with a band playing the Tequila song rather loudly, it was quite surreal! At the other end of the marina there were some men waving their mobile phones in the darkness. Were they joining in the party or were they from the marina? Hard to know as we couldn’t hear each other over the band. Turns out they were members of the Dominican Republic Navy and looked after yachts coming into the marina outside of office hours. Soon we were moored up in a temporary berth and they took our details so that we could go ashore. They were incredibly friendly and set a standard of friendliness that hasn’t been let down since. Our sail from Tortola to here was fairly smooth sailing (btw we were very reserved with the painkillers, so not too painful the next day!)

The first day’s sail was absolutely beautiful, the winds were perfect for a beam reach giving us a comfortable 7 knots all day and into the night. We saw a pair of dolphins as we left Tortola and not long after a small pod of 5 dolphins swam with the boat, playing along the bow, looping back and then racing to overtake us once again. Tristan, Sarah & I were up on the bow and enchanted with them. We looked around for Dad only to find him inspecting the dinghy!?!! Maybe when I’ve been sailing for 60years, I too will be blasé about dolphins! That wasn’t the end of our wildlife experiences either for Tristan and Sarah saw a large ray leap twice from the water not far from the boat. This doesn’t seem like normal ray behaviour but I’m pretty sure they weren’t pulling our legs. It’s sometimes hard to tell when Tristan has a habit of making up the most random nonsense – poor Sarah about 50% of what he tells her about sailing terminology is rubbish. With the other 50% of truth being sufficiently baffling – davits, epirbs and sheets to name a few – it’s hard to distinguish which is real!

The fair winds of the first day soon dropped off on the second as we sailed off the coast of Puerto Rico. With an Atlantic swell rolling in, we bobbed and rattled around a little as we made our way west. That first night we had the lights of Puerto Rico to keep us company off to port but the next night was pitch black until the Moon rose. This has the enormous advantage of making the stars absolutely stunning, a bit of a distraction for me on my night watch! Dad and Tristan cooked some yummy meals, unfortunately I’m still finding I get a bit queasy down below so I’ve been let off cooking duties for the time being.

We were all quite eager to get into port on the last day, we’d expected to be in about 10hrs earlier that we actually were so it heightened our expectation of a stable bed for the night. It seemed to take a long time to crawl along the coast and the marker buoys for the marina were hard to pick up which gave us a nervous entry. What with the band and the day-glow casino, it was all a little bizarre when we did arrive. On closer inspection, the casino/restaurant/nightclub/theatre is nautically themed, four enormous mermen hold up the clam shell entrance, the restaurant looks like a scene from The Little Mermaid. It seems a little trippy when you’re a tired, salty crew coming ashore for the first time in a few days!

I really like what I’ve seen of the Dominican Repbulic, it certainly deserves more exploring than we’ve time for. I’d love to waffle on about it but I’ve got to dash now as we’re about to set off for Key West and my cabin is not exactly ship shape! Remind me to tell you about Bravissimo sometime, I’m not sure how to put it into words but it was certainly an experience, maybe Tris could do it justice, I’ll ask him for a blog post. It should take us 4 – 5 days to get to Key West – keep your fingers crossed for good winds!

Going for a swim at the beach

We’ve arrived in Tortola!  We left St. Maarten by the 4.30pm bridge and sailed off on a course of 285˚ more or less into the sunset.

Leaving St. Maarten through the bridge

I was feeling all bubbly and excited again at the thought of sailing and all the lovely destinations yet to be arrived at!

Sailing into the sunset

Sarah & I celebrated by polishing off the rose while Dad and Tris tried the dodgy-looking sangria.  We were joking that they’d get poorly on it but in fact, it was Sarah and I that ended up feeling a little peaky and seasick after dinner!  Sarah managed to sleep it off and for me it was nowhere near as bad as the bout I had on the way to Trinidad so while I had a slightly queasy watch from midnight till 2am, I was feeling altogether better for the dawn watch at 6am – 8am.

I found my night watch considerably busier than I did the ones on the ARC, or even on the trip down to Trinidad.  It’s the height of the season here as the weather is milder and there are lots of boats out and about.  I passed a catamaran fairly closely on my midnight watch.  It’s alarming how one minute the other boat looks far away with its little white light at the top of the mast and red starboard light nearer the waterline, and the next minute they’re so close you can make out their hull in the darkness.  On the ARC we were lucky if we saw any other yachts at all!  There were also a couple of cruise ships on the horizon but hard to miss, all lit up like Christmas trees as they were!

The sun rose and we were in sight of land and right on course to pick up Ginger Island and the Round Rock Channel we were heading for.  Dad & I shared a quiet cup of tea and he decided to get some kip in the cockpit whilst I kept a look out.  We passed through the channel and Tortola was off our starboard side.  Suddenly it was as though we were going the wrong way up a one way street.  Lots of yachts and catamarans were tacking up wind towards us, zig-zagging their way across the strait whilst we blithely mowed up the middle with the wind behind us.  Oddly most of these boats were flying Canadian flags and waving in very friendly fashion (of course).  It was a little beyond my comfort zone gauging the speed of the many yachts on intercept course with us – I should add they had right of way over us – so I relinquished the helm to Dad.

Not long and we were rounding a small peninsula into an idyllic-looking bay called Soper’s Hole.  Idyllic, but choc-full of boats!  And we were assigned the most awkward berth to get in to, complete with catamaran moored inconveniently opposite and close for maximum limited manoeuvrability.  Did I mention that our bow thrust is out of action too?  So with a wicked stern kick to port, a clumsy bow and a strong wind Dad gently brought Maximillian in with great skill.  A guy from the marina helped with shore lines and before long we had her alongside the cutest quayside.  Cute, but choc-full of tourists!  Perhaps from the cruise ships we saw in the night?  They’re milling up and down taking photos, pointing and commenting on the boats – I feel a little on display and kind of wish I hadn’t changed into my bikini top!

I’m now all showered and refreshed.  I’d forgotten how clammy it gets out at sea at night, your clothes cling to you and your arms and legs feel sticky – nice!  I used copious amounts of talc appreciating the lovely fresh smell of it but unwittingly contributing to my general pasty, winter English look.  My shower was accompanied by the conversation of some men sat outside who sounded uncomfortably like they were in the next shower cubicle.  Interestingly enough they were chatting about whether Jesus would come.  Apparently last time they stayed up f***ing late for him.  I began to suspect they weren’t in fact talking about the son of God.

The sun is most definitely over the yard arm now and disappearing in the mouth of our pretty little harbour.  Tris has already cracked open a Carib beer and once everyone’s had a shower and are all looking presentable again we’ll be heading ashore for a bite to eat.  Tristan’s also keen we all try a famous Pusser’s painkiller – I’ll let you know how those go down!

I poked my head up through the companionway bright and early the next morning to find Maximillian bobbing gently on her mooring and blue skies above.  It can be disorienting arriving somewhere at night time but it’s almost worth it for the surprise of your location when the daylight comes.  Simpson Bay is a large lagoon almost completely encircled by land with the exception of a French bridge and a Dutch bridge which allow ingoing and outgoing traffic to pass three times a day.  Apparently when Dad was here previously, the bay was very quiet, but now scores of yachts populate the moorings all around us.  The mooring we are on, very kindly lent to us by a friend who is in Grenada with his yacht at the moment, is close to a small peninsula in the bay called Mount Fortune.  I hesitate to mention it here, but the locals call it the Witch’s Tit.  Nice.

Being moored out in the bay we need to use the dinghy to get ashore.  We have a new dinghy – Dad put his foot through the boards that made up the base of the previous dinghy, it had clearly seen better days.  And the new dinghy is a very nice too – aluminium base, 9ft in length, extendable oars neatly stashed in the interior, immaculate.  Dinghies are almost permanently zipping around the bay here, in fact some zip too fast without lights and there have sadly been a couple of night time fatalities recently.  So with great expectation I sat in the dinghy on that first morning as Dad pulled the starter cord on the outboard.  Rrrrrrrrrrrr went the little 4hp engine and puttered forward at a most sedate pace.  Tee hee J  It takes us about 20mins to get between the marina and Maximillian with the little 4hp outboard we have.  Not that I’m complaining mind you, so much of life is spent rushing from A to B, being late and trying to save minutes and here is an incredibly pleasant way to spend 20mins.  I’m quite a fan of our little 4hp.  Or I was until about 10mins into the journey Dad pointed out the main channel into the bay through which all the marine traffic travels for the Dutch side.  Rrrrrrrrr put put put went the outboard and then stopped altogether leaving us stranded in the entry channel!  I’ve learned that it’ll do that from time to time and with one exception it always starts again with a little coaxing.  Remember those extendable oars I mentioned earlier?  Well they’re not terribly efficient in a windy harbour, we owe Sheer Tenacity a beer for giving us a tow!

Simpson Bay Marina is chock full of super yachts.  Millions upon millions of pounds’ worth of yachts stacked up, all very shiny and very big, saddled with grand names like Limitless, Gladiator or Idol.  Although there is one that’s more frivolously named ‘Cocktails’ and it has twin jet skis tethered to its stern – Shaken and Stirred!  The super yachts are very impressive (if sadly lacking in the sail department 😉 ) but still somehow a little lonely.  Several have their professional crews buzzing industriously around on them cleaning and polishing, we’ve seen two move since we’ve been here, but the rest remain immaculate and silent in their berths.

Each morning at 7.30am we listen to ‘the Net’ over the VHF which is hosted by a colourful local character called Mike.  It’s for cruisers in St Maarten and starts with a weather report, invites new arrivals to introduce themselves and welcomes them, people call in with items for sale or things they are looking for and then there are notices of any parties or points of interest.  It’s really nice and eccentric and also pointed us in the direction of a good happy hour on Thursday at Turtle Pier, one $2 cocktail & I was nearly falling off my bar stool!  The rest of the day is spent pottering around doing little jobs, shopping for stores, visiting the chandlery, lots of reading and making the big decisions like whether to have lunch or dinner ashore.  We’re alongside now and it makes life a bit easier with hot showers, shore power and only a 3 minute walk to the restaurants and supermarket.

Tristan and Sarah arrive tomorrow which is very exciting and then we’re looking to leave St Maarten on Sunday.  We’re planning to get the 4.30pm bridge and sail overnight to Tortola.