Category Archives: Dogs Aboard

Kemah, the other white meat

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I have spent the entire day dealing with the dog. Rather, I’ve spent the entire day dealing with the specifics of having a dog aboard a sailboat in one country (Guatemala) and trying to move with him (legally) to another country (Belize).

Kemah, the dog, has spent his day doing this:

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note: one throw pillow under each arm

He didn’t even say “thanks”. The nerve.

But, I don’t begrudge him at all for his cushion-warming. In fact, I’d love to join him and most days I do. But, not today. Today, I’m afraid we had to stick to the roles predetermined by our opposable thumbs (or lack thereof) until he learns how to, in fact, do this:

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perhaps this is why our pet import permit to Belize was lost in translation

Ya see, in the last year and a half, we’ve cruised half a dozen countries with the dog (The Bahamas, Jamaica, Columbia, Panama, Honduras and Guatemala). I’m used to my little routine: getting on Noonsite, checking the regs, then maybe doing a quick search of Cruisers Forum and/or the Cruisers Yahoo Group to see if any sailors have posted anything recently regarding check-in procedures (as they are wont to change).

Fortunately, we’ve had no issues and, generally, the import process for dogs held up to what was previously stated on the web. Furthermore, usually, no one cared at all: most didn’t ask-we volunteered K’s info; The Bahamas cared so little about what went on their forms the official listed K’s breed as “rescue dog” (okay . . .); and in Jamaica, which is the only country we’ve visited where K wasn’t allowed off the boat, the officials showed us a little island away from the anchorage where they “knew others have taken their dogs” *wink wink*.

But, it seems we are going to have no such luck importing our dog to Belize with lax regulations. I will spare you the play-by-play of the web of info I navigated, but perhaps this gem of a tangent will give you some idea of the clarity of info published by the Belizean authorities on the topic: “Obtaining a permit for these pets from BAHA is the same as is described above for obtaining a permit for ham or turkey“. umm, okay? (apparently, Belizeans love their Christmas hams . . .)

Anywho, long story short and in the spirit of paying it forward . . . here what we did to get an understanding of what will hopefully work for us (confused yet?):

  • We called the Placencia office of the Belize Agriculture Health Authority (BAHA) at (011) 501-824-4872. We spoke to a very nice official and were told that we need fill out this application to import animals and email it back to them via bahasps@btl.net or animalhealth.baha@gmail.com (we emailed both).
  • The permit process takes 3 business days to be completed (we are submitting the app from Fronteras, Rio Dulce, Guatemala and taking 3+ days to get to the coastal town of Livingston, Guatemala. So, we figured we’re getting a head start and can just follow up in Livingston before entering Belizean waters). The permit is $25 (without the additional fees for faxing in the permit app, which we are not doing because we are choosing not to track down a time machine to find a working fax machine and are instead just emailing the forms).
  • We also need a Health Certificate, dated within 7 days of expected arrival, signed by a vet (from the country you are arriving from) affirming K to be in good health with an up-to-date rabies vaccination (he has the 3-year kind and they said that’s fine). We were quoted anywhere between $30-150 for this service from several vets in the area. Only one of them indicated they would need to examine Kemah before sending us the paperwork (via the bus from Guatemala City – why? who knows). We were told by one vet the high fee was due to arranging the import permit with Belize (I am doing that on my own) and for securing a “Guatemalan export permit” for K (um, that’s never been mentioned before and Belize doesn’t need it, so, no thanks). Because we have our old Health Cert from the States with all of K’s records and info on it, we simply emailed it to the  ”don’t need to see him, send me info, I’ll sign off on it for $30″ vet who is located in Guatemala City and will send the papers on the bus to us tomorrow. We’re paying a middle man at another marina for the service. What could go wrong?

By the by, we have read (on the totally reliable source that is the internet) that failure to secure an import permit or have a health cert could result in a $100 fine in Belize. This penalty is not exactly nothing, but not a horrible (we’re confiscating/quarantining/euthanizing your pet) scenario either. And, before we convinced the $30 vet not to charge us the extra $120 for “preparing” K’s papers, we seriously considered saving $20 by just showing up in Belize “unprepared” and paying the $100 fine.

So, that’s that. Cross your fingers, toes and opposable thumbs that everything will work out swimmingly. And, I’ll be sure to let you know what happens upon entry to Belize.

Until then, K and I are gonna keep the cushions warm.

***Update: We cleared into Belize on Monday, April 22. We never received a Import Permit  from BAHA, and both cruisers and locals encouraged us to bypass the BAHA office, which will make an appointment to search your boat for agriculture & animals if you report having any – and they will charge you for the transport of their officers to/from your boat. The nay-sayers figured “BAHA costs money, takes time, and no one enforces anything for BAHA for boaters” (unlike port captains, who may request your boating permits). So, in short, no one ever asked about the dog, and we didn’t tell. And, while I remain *convinced* this will bite us in the end, D was the captain who checked us in and continues to espouse the philosophy of the islands: “don’t worry, be happy”. Umm, okay.***

Quick update from Guatemala

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Hey y’all,

I know it’s been a while. Our last month has been super crazy (more on that later) so we decided to take a break from “the world” (I know, I know, you already think we do that but this time we *meant* it :) .

Now, we’re checking back in and it feels good. We’re lucky enough to take a break from the boat and have been on the road travelling overland exploring:

  • the super-serene mountain villages of Lake Atitlan,
  • and, the colonial city of Antigua (a UNESCO World Heritage site).

This weekend, we’re headed to

  • the limestone pools of Semuc Champey,
  • and, the land of the Ewoks ancient ruins of Tikal.

It’s a super-quick trip that is reminding us how much we like travelling with our house (hostelling is work, y’all!).

But, “what about Kemah?” you say. Right. He is living large on S/V Mother Jones with the awesome-rad folks of Over Yonderlust who were amazing enough to use our dog-sitting needs as a big, fat excuse to come back to Central America.

While we’re away (and not posting long-winded, stream of consciousness ramblings here), you can always keep up with the latest, day-to-day brain farts gems from the S/V Mother Jones crew on our facebook page.

See y’all back on the water!

love,

D, L (& Mr. K from the boat)

Passage notes: Bocas to Portobelo

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The last two weeks can pretty much be summed up in one word: RAIN.

Yes, December is the Rainy Season. Yes, Panama is a rainforest.  But it’s the Caribbean, right? Shouldn’t we get some sunshine on these deserted beaches and magical rivers we (planned to) visit? “No”, is apparently the answer.

We left Bocas a couple of weeks ago with the intention of stopping in some super-cool spots, which also happen to be fair-weather anchorages. Well, guess what? We’ve had NO fair weather. Everyone said we were getting a late start to this passage: “November is unpredictable; you really should’ve gone in October”. Thanks, thanks a lot. I know folks mean well, but unless you have a time machine handy, maybe not so helpful to suggest we should’ve already done something. Just sayin’

But they were right; we missed all the cool stuff we wanted to see along the way: the “secret beach”, Tobobe and the Rio Chagres. And, while we did stop at Escudo de Veraguas, it was so rainy and windy that we didn’t even get to enjoy it properly. Blarg.

So, in the interest of reporting to the cruisers (and all you folks at home) what indeed happened, here’s what we ended up doing instead:

Stopping in Bluefields for two nights. Bluefields was fine. It was fine last year. It’s a super-protected and calm anchorage which meant a nice, calm night’s sleep. But, it’s also one of those places where locals pull up in their Cayucos and hang on your lifelines and stare into your cockpit/cabin/dinghy for upwards of an hour.

While I don’t mind at all when folks come to sell or trade with us or even if they want to engage in some conversation, there’s something about someone silently looking into your windows for what feels like for-e-ver that I dislike very much.

I mean, I understand that in a place like Bluefields, which is very remote, visiting yachts can seem as foreign as spaceships and therefore certainly attract curiosity but boats have been coming to Bluefields for years, so you think folks might get used to it, right?

It seems that perhaps the good folks who call Bluefields home have come to start expecting something from the cruisers . . and, this is when I’ll get on my soapbox . . . if you are someone who likes to support an increase the quality of life for those in remote places, please do not give out hand-outs (especially to children). It doesn’t help anyone. You might feel good in the moment, but it’s not at all good in the long run. Trust me. Or, at least trust them. Off the soapbox . . .

Lucky for us in the case of the lifeline hanger-on’rs, we have a secret weapon: “el perro bravo” (a dangerous dog). Don’t get me wrong, we don’t sic Kemah on anyone, but I don’t mind that it’s not particularly welcoming to have a big dog barking at you when you’re not particularly welcome.

So, back to Blue Fields, the highlight of the stop-over was being invited over to a (new) friend’s boat for lobster dinner. Acuncion and Ivan of S/V Paloma were amazing hosts. We had loads of lobster, caramelized onion & garlic mashed potatoes (I made these!) and then capper of all cappers: flan. Yum! To top everything off, our dinner was hosted aboard a Lagoon 40 and that boat is sa-weet. Funny, though, while they have a TON more space aboard, they really don’t have much more room(s) than the Gemini and I bet their maintenance costs are much more – see, we’re fine without that fancy boat ;)

After Bluefields, we headed out for Escudo de Veraguas, a beautiful island only a day-sail away – past the two other amazing stops we meant to see (the “secret beach” and Tobobe).

Escudo was an easy day sail from Bluefields. We had been looking forward to Escudo since our stop-over here a couple of years ago. It’s a beautiful island surrounded by reefs and, after a couple of days on the boat, we were ready to get anchored and explore.

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Escudo’s hidden coves

 

D, photoshopped into paradise aka Escudo, in 2011

D, photoshopped into paradise aka Escudo, in 2011

But . . . the weather continued to be uncooperative. Even upon approach the “anchorage” seemed to be uncomfortably rolly but we snaked our way closer to the beach and quickly radio’d back to our buddies on Adamastor that they had the depth to follow us.

While they snuck up on the beach, we continued to radio them of a dangerous rock just off our starboard bow – but wait – what!?! The rock was moving – huh!?! James thought it was, perhaps, a whale, but as it got closer and closer we realized it was a HUGE rootball attached to a downed palm. It must have been the heavy rains that broke it lose. And, AFTER we used the boathook to poke it away from drifting between our hulls, we all a good laugh about the “dangerous moving rock” in the Escudo anchorage.

We spent a few days at Escudo waiting for the weather to change and even took advantage of short break in the clouds to dinghy-‘splore the coastline and walk along the big, wide beach. While there were a few highlights in the form of tucked-away coves and a cool, fresh river washing out to sea, unfortunately, the impression that was left with us from our beach walk was the horrid amounts of plastic flotsam and jetsam littering the shore. Makes ya kinda wonder what all the crap was made for if it’s just gonna end up on some otherwise-beautiful beach. Seriously, earthlings (including us, of course) we have *got* to get it together.

Despite our depressing walk along the beach and the lack of snorkeling we did manage to have one particularly entertaining – although it was alarming at first – experience at Escudo:

It was dark-thirty. Damon and I were on Adamastor enjoying a movie night with Jess and James. All of the sudden, Jess popped up, snatched our attention away from the film and called it to the flash of white light that just came through the porthole across the screen. In slow motion, we all seemed to come to the same silent conclusion: “Right, of course, we’re in the middle of nowhere, on our boats. We should definitely be concerned about those lights – which definitely aren’t headlights shining into our living rooms from a passing car. WHO IS OUT THERE!?!”

Suddenly, we were all up from the settee, out in the cockpit and trying to discern the figures and make of boat approaching us quickly from the sea. Of course, with their lights shining  in our eyes, it took us a minute to make out the five men, in fatigues, with machine guns slung over their shoulders headed towards Mother Jones – where Kemah was holding down the fort.  Relief washed over us all. It’s funny that the sight of those big men with their big guns was a welcome sight: it meant they were random pirates coming for us, they were *government* pirates, at worst.

We signaled them to come to Adamastor, where over the next hour they checked Adamastor’s paperwork and did a cursory inspection of the vessel. When it came time for our turn of the government check, the men opted not to move over to the Kemah-stronghold of Mother Jones, instead asking us to take our dinghy, get our paperwork and bring it to them, which we happily complied.  God bless that terrifyingly ridiculous dog.

While El Jefe worked on our paperwork, I offered the group some refreshments which they accepted tenderly while explaining clearly they did not expect, and could not accept, any gifts – amazing!

All-in-all, their impromptu visit turned out to be quite pleasant as we ran through the rigamaroll exchanging Spanglish with each other. We were also happy to have them anchored next to us for the next two nights – although we were very happy to be sleeping in our cozy berths rather than under a tarp in a panga like these commandos.

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Making friends at Escudo

But, our luck with the friendly pirates was not to rub off on the weather. We had enough of the rain, enough of a rolling anchorage and so it was time to head off to Portobelo on our first overnighter since this.

The afternoon we left was fine. We had a little excitement as a few swallows came aboard for a rest – which is totally fine unless Mr. K sees them. Then, it’s pandemonium whilst he scrambles about giving it his all to give them their namesake.

1-kemah swallow

Once night fell, the easy afternoon turned.

“Once bitten, twice shy” was I as I listened to a familiar sound of the halyard clanking, felt the familiar motion of pitching into the seas ahead and watched the running lights cast its eerie red glow on the deck and dark waves. Ugg. We shot towards Portobelo at the quick pace of eight knots in high seas. It seemed all-too-familiar.

I was uneasy. I white-knuckled my shift. When D got up for his we had a come-to-Jesus. Turns out I wasn’t the only one “remembering”.

“Why do we do this?” was the question de nuit; both of us remembering the last time we asked each other *that* question on *that* passage.  It was sobering. And good. We were on the same page: we love cruising; and, we have a healthy respect for the ocean; we have fear; and, we have the where-with-all to acknowledge it, make corrections and keep moving forward. So, we reefed.

Just like that, it seemed the sea exhaled. Mother Jones settled into a comfortable lob and we settled into ourselves again.

*******

The rest of the night and into the morning we gently pushed forward. We had the engine on ever-so-slightly just to help us maintain course against the current and winds pushing us towards the coast. (To other sailors out there heading this way this time of year in Easterlies, I’d strongly recommend you head north at least 15 or so miles off Escudo and then tack back towards your Colon or Portobelo destination)

Like other missed destinations, I was disappointed to have to pass on visiting the infamous Rio Chagres.  But I knew it was the smart move: two years earlier we had stood at Fuerte San Lorenzo and witnessed a yacht washed aground (and then picked clean) from an unscheduled discharge of the Rio Chagres dam by the Canal authority. As a matter of fact, the Canal Authority apparently does sound an alarm to give anyone on the river – including Panamanians fishing in Cayucos or working on the shores of the Chagres – a WHOLE 15 MINUTES prior to opening the damn so folks can safely remove themselves from the path of MILLIONS OF GALLONS OF WATER FILLED WITH DEBRIS. Ummm, thanks?

washed ashore during rainy season dam openings

S/V washed ashore during a dam opening during the rainy season

But, due to us having at least one good idea a week (ambitious aren’t we?), we opted to keep moving towards Portobelo. Soon past the Rio, we were smack-dab in the middle of the Canal zone dodging the huge tankers waiting for transit or resting at anchor just after.

Even still, I can’t get over how HUGE these ships are, how much cargo they transport and, sadly, how much of it is probably disposable crap we – yes, I’m including me in the “we” here – consume all over the globe. And, how I’d be willing to bet a (literal) ton of it ends up on beaches just like the one we left less than 24 hours ago.

Or, maybe instead of one million pen caps and lighters, those ships are full of life-saving medications, fresh water, food and shelter destined for our planet’s sick, thirsty, hungry and homeless. Aww, a gal with a bleeding heart can dream, right?

Moving on to more selfish thoughts, we spent the last leg of our overnighter wet and squinting in the white-out rain happy none-the-less in part because: 1) if we *had* to be in white-out rain, we were glad to be in white-out rain PAST the tanker minefield; and 2) we were dreaming of our first stop in Portobelo: Captain Jack’s, our soon-to-be-latest stop on our Cheeseburger in Paradise tour.

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Portobelo in a break in the rain. Cheeseburger dead ahead

Newly Salted: 11 months in

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So, there’s this really, really cool couple of blogs managed by Liva of S/V Estrellita. The blogs, Interview with a Cruiser Project and Newly Salted, both feature interviews of those who have been cruising for some time and those of us who just started out. I found them to be tremendously helpful when we were still sitting at our desks dreaming and scheming of a way to become  . . . Cruisers.

Because these interviews were so helpful to me, and because we’re no longer sitting at our desks – (drumroll, please) we’ve become we’re everday becoming Cruisers, I thought we’d add our thoughts to the project.

Liva asks participants to self-publish our interviews and then re-formats and links back – how easy, peasy! I’m looking forward to seeing our interview up  here when she has a break in her South Pacific sailing.

Until then, here goes something:

  • About Us

S/V Mother Jones hails from Austin, Texas and is Captained by Damon and Laurie Jones, with minimal support by our Chief Security Officer Kemah (our dog). We moved aboard in December of 2011 in Punta Gorda, Florida and sailed to Panama stopping in The Bahamas, Jamaica and Providencia. We have blogged about our travels overland and aboard at www.SoManyBeaches.com. We love hearing from other cruisers; so don’t be shy, drop us a line!

  • What (if anything) do you wish someone had told you before you started cruising –

D: I wish we had told ourselves to take a couple of navigation/sailing courses. Although I know now that, no matter what anyone teaches you, you (well, I) don’t really learn how to sail until you actually do it on YOUR boat. BUT, a “basics” of anv knowledge and sail trim physics would’ve been helpful…

L: We did a TON of research before we left, scouring blogs of other cruisers and basically soliciting any advice from anyone willing to share it. So, I’m not sure there were too many surprises. But, one piece of advice we got over and over and I’ll restate here was: GO NOW! We heard from a lot of old salts who said they or someone they were close to waited and waited to go and then they couldn’t due to health, financial or other reasons. They told us to go now and we’ll figure it out (financially) and so far that’s been true.

  • As you started cruising, what transitions did you find the most difficult?

L: In terms of being a cruising couple, learning how to sail together was challenging at first: we learned we deal with stress differently (he springs into action trying to figure out what can be done and I prefer to quietly think on it before acting and his action makes me more stressed), and we had different ideas of what makes a good sail, anchorage and social life. Navigating those new waters together takes time but we found slowing down, asking “why do you think that?”, “where do you want to anchor?” or “how do you want the day to go?” and then really listening to the answer has made a big difference towards being in sync.

L: Personally, I had a hard time transitioning with the distance from friends, family and making new friends – when everyone is a proverbial ship passing in the night. I love being a part of a community and D prefers his solitude. So, that means he’ll begrudgingly join me in meeting new cruisers, attending pot-lucks, etc and/or I’ll just go by myself while he hangs back. And, it means that as we look at going back out for the Season (and leaving our community in Bocas del Toro), I’ll be facing this challenge again.

D: Sleeping. On land, it’s easy to sleep through the night; you don’t wake up every few hours wondering if your house has wandered down the street or if someone else’s house is going to knock into ours if the wind changes. On the boat, I find myself waking up every couple of hours to close the hatch if it starts to rain, check our position and otherwise mind the boat.

  • What mistakes did you make as you started cruising?

Ha! We’ve made a few for sure! We’ve run aground a couple of times (luckily, we’ve been able to just get out and push our shallow-draft boat off a shoal). We sailed wing-on-wing in 10 foot seas (and then ripped our head sail). We’ve drug anchor because we anchored on a slope and then the winds changed. We were too optimistic about sailing and almost ran out of gas a couple of times. Yep, we’ve made a few.

  • What do you find the most exciting about your cruising life?

We love having the opportunity to spend so much time together. We love the challenge of learning new things (“what’s leech line, a weep hole, a Obida?”). We love being self-sufficient and spending so much time outdoors. We also love being part of an international community with so many different backgrounds and perspectives represented. And, of course, there’s all the exploring: from travelling a well-worn cruising path like Boo-Boo Hill in the Bahamas to finding the secret fish market or just a boat part, it’s always like a treasure hunt! Finally, there’s the striking physical landscapes of all the new places. My good friend who’s spent 16 years cruising says it best: “I love standing in my galley with my same old pots and pans and looking out on a whole new country!”.

  • What do you dislike about cruising that surprised you?

I’m amazed at how some can be so narrow-minded when commenting on other cultures and living amongst other cultures as expats. I understand how things can wear on you, but if you wanted it “they way it is in X”, stay there or go back!

  • What is something that you read or heard about cruising, that you didn’t find to be true?

While I had read a lot about other people’s budgets for cruising, I mistakenly thought we could out-cheap other cruisers.  I thought we could stay under or around $1,000 per month, because, you know, wind is FREE! But, of course, the wind isn’t always with you, parts are expensive and depending on where you go, provisioning and Zarpes can also add up.

  • What is something that you read or heard about cruising, that you found particularly accurate?

We have definitely found it to be true that there are always boat projects; it’s like painting the Golden Gate Bridge: once you’re down to the bottom of the list, start again at the top!  I’ve also found the cruising community to be amazing. Regardless of who you are, how much money you make, your politics, race or religion, if you are in a jam, another cruiser WILL help you out.  A couple of quick things, too: The Bahamas is expensive, everybody has an opinion and don’t worry about food so much – they’ll have it there.

  • Is there something you wish you had bought or installed before starting out?

We wish we had an SSB for sure. We had an incident hundreds of miles from shore and only had a SPOT and VHF. Luckily, we were able to get someone on the VHF three hours into our ordeal that could relay to the Coast Guard. But, we’d love to have the added safety of the SSB for emergencies and for weather forecasting.

Also, given that Damon is a working electronic musician and I a writer, we’ve found our battery bank to be limiting to powering our equipment. We run the genny from time to time, wait for sunny days or go ashore to use computers.

Another cruising couple also told us they heard from others cruising the Tropics that they couldn’t have enough fans. We’ve added a couple here and there over the last year and would definitely second this recommendation.

Finally, a wish list item that hasn’t proved a deal-breaker yet is a windlass. We *are* the windlass on S/V Mother Jones. Luckily, because of the grounds we’re cruising and because we have a shallow draft boat, we rarely have a problem pulling up anchor. But, at 4lbs a foot (280lbs) anchoring in more than 20 feet can get difficult to pull up, especially if there is any wind.

  • What piece(s) of gear would you leave on the dock next time? Why?

Clothes, books and leather; we brought too much of all of it and in the Tropics, everything leather has molded.

  • What are your plans now?

If they do not include cruising, tell us why. This Season we’re headed to the San Blas, then up the Western Caribbean Coast (Providencia, the Bay Islands of Honduras, the Rio Dulce, Belize and Mexico). And, we’re excited!

  • What question do you wish I would have asked you besides the ones I’ve asked you and how would you answer it?

Having a dog aboard presents both pluses and minuses: we never worry about security, but have limited independence from the boat and in places we can cruise. Several folks have wondered about the strange looking PVC lined mat we have at the bottom of our swim step: it’s Kemah’s swim step allowing him to easily enter and exit the boat without our assistance. More info about our homemade, $40, swim step can be found here.

77 days

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D left on Tuesday morning to go back to the States to work. He’ll be gone for 77 days. And, yes, I’m counting.

 

The past few days have been hard. In addition to the general malaise of missing someone I’m 100% in-like with, I’m sore. I’ve lifted the anchor three times, single-handed for the first time and generally been doing four-hands worth of work with two – it’s tough! It seems everything on the boat weighs (at least) 40 pounds and when I’m done with one project, the next one is just waiting for me.

I have a renewed appreciation for my wonderful partner and all he’s done (and is now doing) to keep us afloat.

And, I have a renewed appreciation of myself.

The last time I was on my own I was in my early 20′s. While I have always had an independent spirit, at that time I was recovering from some trauma which left me distrustful of the world in general and most people in particular. I was hell-bent on doing everything on my own. It was also when I delved headfirst into political work – like “do my best swan dive into shark-infested waters” delving.

It was at that time I was interning for political women’s organization and my boss bestowed upon me the nickname “lauradical”.

lauradical and the woman who named her

While I’m not sure she always meant it this way, I considered it the highest compliment – more than a badge of honor, an identity.

lauradical, with her rad hair, behind the wheel of Gussa, a ’73 IH Scout

It wasn’t that lauradical wasn’t afraid to do things on her own; she was and she just did them anyway.

When lauradical didn’t know how to do things and she figured them out.

fixing the carburetor on my ’59 Ford Custom, custom painted of course

Now, lauradical is visiting me yet again. It seems she showed up just in time to her to help me remember that I can totally do this!

Afterall, we’ve done some pretty rad things together. Maybe things some would even consider radical.

Like, maybe this:

Little lauradical thinks like this

 

or this:

lauradical speaking on the steps of the Texas State Capitol

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

or perhaps something as radical as even this:

lauradical gets hitched!

So, for all those who worry about me being out here alone on the boat. Don’t you worry. I’m not alone. I’ve got friends I check in with daily. I’ve got a handsome blond keeping me company.

Chief Security Officer Kemah Jones

And, I’ve got lauradical.

South of the Tropic of Cancer

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This week in Georgetown has been busy!

We’ve been doing the usual re-provisioning: fuel, water, food, laundry.

We’ve been excited to let everyone know about Amble Resorts and the possibility that I could be their 2012 Island Intern back in Panama (go vote!).

And, most importantly, we’ve been studying up for our big next legs south to Panama.  After tons of consideration and over a year’s worth of hemming and hawing, here’s what we have decided (and are open to feedback on):

How’d we get here?  In short, we wanted to take the 1) safest, and then, 2) most comfortable route.  Without going into too much detail (we’re happy to, just email us) it’s a big combination of studying the weather, charts, pet-entry req’s, clearing in fees and then, prioritizing what we want to see along the way.  Being willing to go “north to get south” (go out of your way to get a better sail) and waiting on the weather will serve you well on making big passages like this, or so we’ve been told.  And, that’s what we intend to do.

First thing’s first, as you can see we’re headed West, with the Trade Winds instead of beating East across the north coast of the Dominican Republic and then beating again across the north coast of Puerto Rico.  If we were to go that way, once we got to the USVI, we’d be set to follow little coastal jumps all the way down the chain.  But, each of the 20-odd countries “down the chain” between “here” (The Bahamas) and “there” (Panama) has different pet entry regulations and entry fees for the boat.  Turks and Caicos alone is $200 to enter (for a couple of days, no thanks) and some of the islands I really wanted to see (Dominica) don’t allow pets on shore.  So, we’d skip these anyway therefore the advantage of short day sails between islands was kind of muted.   Of all the things I’ll miss out on (this time) by not taking the Eastern route, I think I’ll miss the opportunity to see Saba the most: when told roads and an airport couldn’t be built, they did it themselves – my kind of folks!

Also, yes, Cuba (the forbidden zone) is on the way and the anchorage to check in at is just past Guantanamo Bay.  If we stop we’ll likely just anchor off the coast to rest but the coast is so steep that we’ll be really close to land.  So . . . we’ll keep you posted.

And, finally, yes, it’s a lot of open water after Jamaica, but we prefer the open water with the Trades over beating against the wind.  And, we discovered there are a ton of little atolls along the way, which could break up the 3-day trip to San Andres (off the coast of Nicaragua), which is supposed to be great!

From there, it’s a “short” jump from San Andres to Bocas – from 36 hours to 72 depending on the weather.

We estimate the total sailing time on these legs to be about 1.5 weeks, which will be broken up with time ashore and time patiently waiting on the weather.  So, just like that, we’re well on track to be in Panama by June, just as planned.  Famous.last.words. ;)

I’m not sure what internet options will be available between here and Jamaica so stayed tuned on Spot and we’ll catch up on the flip side.

xoxox,

Laurie

ps.  If you haven’t yet taken a second to vote for me for the Amble Resorts 2012 Island Intern contest, what in the world are you waiting for??? ;)  Click here.