Alembic

Going inland was a blast. Next cruise, we will plan more inland excursions. A completely different set of wildlife, human culture, and climate was found. Leaving Alembic was disquieting. I was convinced that the bugs or rats would invade my galley, while Bill was more concerned with safety and security. The day before we left Alembic, we saw a huge dead rat on the dock that didn’t help my state of mind. I coached all the trolling iguanas to guard Alembic, and fed them compost scraps as payment. They didn’t let me down. Maybe Bill had coached the many wandering dogs and the nearby parrot to patrol our floating home, because all was well upon our return.

Our rental car, with 120,000 miles, ran flawlessly and survived without a scratch from the passing speeders on the 200 mile trip or the aggressive wildlife surrounding the inland parking spot beside our cabana.

Midas was the perfect getaway, with sweet tiny cabanas nestled in the forest packed with birdlife. Each morning, I enjoyed watching the parrots, toucans, hummingbirds, flycatchers, seed eaters, warblers, tanagers, woodpeckers, hawks, and falcons interact. This hysterical flycatcher kept sweeping his body up and down our windshield while pecking at his own image. I later realized that we had parked right under his nest, and he was attacking the “predator”!

Lindsay had lived in San Ignacio for a few months five years ago, and she gave us specifics about the hot spots. We visited the same mayan ruins and caves that she had, and as we wandered on foot every day throughout the town, my heart warmed to think about Lindsay passing through the same areas.

I’m certain we even met some of the same people. This town has some tourists, and many expats, but the bustling town was predominantly folks whose families have been here for generations. Teak plantations were evidence of long term plans and hopes for generations to come. Endless acres with carefully planted teak trees surrounded the town. Farmers have to wait decades before the wood is harvestable. Most who plant these trees will not live to reap the benefits, but their grandchildren will appreciate the efforts.

The first day, we walked from our cabana to the Cahal Pech “Place of the ticks” ruins. This is one of the oldest Mayan sites in Belize, yet it was discovered relatively recently. It is believed to have been settled in 1200 BC, abandoned in 900 AD, and discovered around 1950, with excavations occurring from 1988 to 2000. The forest had overtaken the site, hiding the evidence of its civilization for centuries.

The next day, Oscar picked us up at Midas and took us to the ATM caves, for an amazing tour. Oscar was the perfect tour guide. He mixed humor with depth of Mayan knowledge, always respecting the spirits, the ecology of the site, and our needs. He was the only guide who insisted on turning off headlamps every time we stopped to hear his instructions or Mayan details. Darkness gave us a feel for how the cave felt for the mayans who came in for ceremonies and rituals. Traversing the cave required swimming, hiking, squeezing through tight spots, and lifting our bodies up over slippery steep rocks. It’s staggering to think of the Mayans making this trek with torches, heavy pots, sick people, and often while intoxicated!

The third day was a trek to Xunantunich “Stone Woman,” only 20 minutes by car. This site was thought to have been settled around 600-300 BC, abandoned around 1000 AD, and first explored by a British officer in the 1800s. We opted to skip the guide and to climb and discover the site on our own. I marveled at the complexity of the architecture and culture and now am eager to read more about the customs and sophistication of the Mayans.

Having such a small taste of inland culture barely whet our appetite for understanding the depth of Latin and Mesoamerican culture. Living and traveling along the coast has given us a flavor for the pirates and seagoing folks, but the civilizations living on the land have a completely different story. I’m ready to begin reading.

Scrambling to transition from one set of guests to the next, with only a couple of hours in between, seemed crazy. Bill left for the airport in a water taxi before Cay and George left Alembic. I took Cay and George to their water taxi a few hours later, shopped for food, brought everything back to Alembic, washed the produce, discarded all cardboard, and stowed everything just in time to receive the VHF call from Bill saying that they had arrived and were ready at the dinghy dock. Yay!!!

As soon as I saw Kenny and Jenna, I dissolved into tears. Family. At last. Here in Belize. I’m beyond blessed.

They looked tired (much more tired than I was) and hot. First up: cool water, and naps in the cockpit for Kenny and Jenna while Bill and I went back to the dinghy dock to pick up the laundry at Marie’s (a local woman who does laundry for a small fee), get dinghy fuel and twenty gallons of water in jerry jugs. With these final chores done, we could raise anchor at any time. We were ready for another week of showing off our new home-away-from-home. Since it was nearing dark, we decided to stay in Cay Caulker one more night. Strolling around the sweet little island, browsing into all of the food establishments, we chose Haberneras and had a fantastic Belizean meal.

The next morning, after watching dolphins frolic all around the anchorage, we raised our anchor and headed south. Bluefield Range was 33 miles south with a strong breeze to take us there swiftly. Patch reefs around Bluefield Range were only mediocre; our plan was to build up the magnificence slowly. Jenna chose not to snorkel this day; the water was deep and we were far from shore.

Our second day, alone at Rendezvous Cay, Jenna braved the underworld. We walked right into the magical reefs from the calm white sand beach. After this introduction, Jenna was unstoppable! She swam deeper and farther each day, to the point where I was not sure we would get her back on the boat some days. One day, a turtle lured her away from us. It kept looking back when she went to the surface for a breath, waiting for her to plunge down again and follow him out to sea. I think he thought she was a mermaid.

We had many excursions on land, visiting romantic island getaways and simple beach retreats. Coco Plum Island Resort is set up for honeymooners and anyone who wants to celebrate romance. They have dinner tables under palm canopies out at the end of piers and eighteen private cabanas with high end furnishings.

The staff is funny, helpful, and ready to make your stay idyllic. I think Kenny and Jenna are ready to book it for next year! A much simpler venue, Reef’s End, was a tiny place where we celebrated both of their birthdays! We were more than a week late, but birthdays are always worth celebrating!

Every day was full of smooth sailing, reef explorations, and Belize beer and food. We ate most meals on board, but sampled the offerings ashore when that was an option. Spending a week with these two was such a gift. In Maine, we see Kenny and Jenna often, but usually only for day visits. Having this opportunity to blend our lives for an extended visit brought the affinity to a new level.

You see new sides of people when you’re together from those first groggy morning moments, through the exhilarations or challenges of the day, and on to the final exhaustion of the late evenings. As a mother, I now can say that I am completely convinced that my son is in the right place in life. Kenny has found the perfect person to spend his life with. Jenna completes him, makes him laugh, and cares deeply for him. There is a peace in my heart that makes me want to shout for joy and rest quietly at the same time. And I know this is rare.

I am Kenny’s mom, but I also feel a deep sense of connection to Jenna that extends beyond her marriage ties to our family. She has a soul that reaches deep into me with her sensitivity and honesty. What she values, I value, what she hopes for, I hope for. I look forward to traveling alongside Jenna on her journey as she opens doors and makes this world a better place.

Thank you, Kenny and Jenna, for coming to see us in Belize, for spending a full week with us, and mostly for being the wonderful humans that you are. See you in Maine!

Bill and I were looking forward to Cay and George’s arrival for months. Sharing this journey with family and friends makes everything more real, more special. I must admit that I was a little concerned that they would find Alembic too small, too salty, too rolly at sea or at anchor, the food too limiting, or the challenges of using a marine compost toilet too gross! You’ll have to get their honest reactions, but from my perspective, it was all perfect!

Cay had only been sailing twice; once on Alembic for a few hours in Maine, and once on another boat for a day trip. She didn’t really know the first thing about how anything worked or fit on a sailboat, let alone how to walk about without hurting herself. George had more sailing experience, but mostly on very small daysailers. Both have plenty of ocean experience on kayaks and skiffs, and their seamanship was evident.

George took over the galley for both production and clean up, and Cay did her best to try to keep up there as well.

Every task that involved sailing, from removing covers to raising and adjusting sails, steering, anchoring, and dingy hoisting and deployment, was mastered by both Cay and George by day 3.

Most fun of all, was their eagerness to snorkel. Our days were spent seeking the next site and reading the books to learn the names of everything we saw. I learned more during the ten days with Cay than I had in the last few decades of snorkeling.

When we returned from a snorkel excursion, Cay immediately dove into the books (not enough on board) to learn the names and behaviors of each new creature and shared her new knowledge with all of us.

 

We sailed every day, many long days, and Cay and George both smoothly got into the rhythm of running around to set sails, then lounging and enjoying the passage.

We were blessed with perfect weather, so we could go anywhere we wished, as long as there was daylight to read the coral heads under our keel. We managed to go significant distances yet have energy for immediately plunging into the water to explore the underworld.

Our friendship with these two strengthened as we blended our daily lives and shared dreams and hopes about our futures in retirement. All four of us have had careers that we loved, still love, and are somewhat perplexed about how to proceed without the identity, salary, and structure that these professions have provided. We all have many projects and intentions that we are pursuing and I enjoyed the camaraderie around these conversations.

Saying goodbye was sad, but I knew we would soon carry on with adventures together when we return to Maine. Seven weeks is not far off!!

Leaving Utila in the dark was scary as hell. Bill was up at the bow, with his ever trusty head lamp, cleaning off the thick mud from the anchor while I headed out through the anchorage, hoping not to collide with any boats. Many boats have no lights on at night, and I had to go by where I remembered them to be. The lighting from my instruments destroyed my night vision, but I needed them to know the depth and direction, or I could really end up in trouble. And Bill’s headlamp gave me flashes of lightning as he moved about on the bow. Once I cleared the harbor, and passed through the entrance reef, I breathed a sigh of relief. Clearly, I am more scared in a harbor than out at sea. The large waves that welcomed us, along with the steady breeze, were simple to navigate compared to all the hazards of the shore.

We were again sailing with Ocean Rainbow and Arkouda, and I looked forward to their company in the night. I get bored on my night watches, so chats on the VHF always perk me up. This night was no exception. Just before midnight, we could see a large freighter heading on a perpendicular course, and possibly a collision course, about seven miles away. First, we picked it up on our AIS, where a little green triangle shows up. Clicking on this symbol reveals all sorts of information about the vessel. We learned its name was Jan, its length width, depth, exact location, heading, speed, destination, and my favorite: TCPA. TCPA, or time to closest point of approach, is really a nice way of saying time till collision. It does also give CPA, closest point of approach, which will give you the closest distance the vessel and your boat will be. Being a former Geometry teacher, I love to calculate these things, using vectors, but time isn’t always one of your available resources, so this gadget helps anyone do their Geometry quickly. It takes your speed and direction, the other boat’s speed and direction, and figures out how close you’ll get if you continue. You usually want a mile for your CPA when it comes to large freighters. This allows for drift, minor course changes, leeway, wakes, and other surprises.

His CPA was about 0.02 miles. Not good. I actually look forward to these situations. Weird. It gives me a reason to call the ship, chat about course changes, and make some more calculations in my head. James beat me to the VHF. “Jan, Jan, this is sailing vessel Ocean Rainbow on channel 16”. “To the vessel calling, this is Jan, please switch and answer channel 10” We all switch to 10. “Jan, Jan, this is Ocean Rainbow. We are on a collision course. Can I have your assurance that you will not hit me??” “Ocean Rainbow, this is Jan. I cannot see you on AIS (neither of us transmit AIS signals) but I see you on radar. I will not hit you” Five minutes later… more VHF calls from Ocean Rainbow to Jan. This struck Bill and I as ironic. James was a General in the UK Army. We’ve seen pictures, James standing in full uniform, next to the Queen of England. He was important, and often in danger. How different this must be, a little boat on a big sea.

I finally got a word in edgewise on the VHF. After the formalities of introduction and moving channels, I said “Hello Jan, I see you on AIS and one or both of us needs to alter course. I will turn on my mast head strobe so you can see me, and I can turn ten degrees north and go to your stern. Are you comfortable with a passing at 0.5 miles?” “Yes, Alembic, I can also speed up three knots and alter course ten degrees” “Thank you, Jan, Alembic standing by on 16”. Twenty minutes later, Jan passed safely by both sailboats. I again got on the radio: “Jan, this is Alembic. Thank you for a safe crossing. Have a good night.” These conversations with other ships are common for me; I always suggest a plan, they usually say they can’t alter speed or direction, so I make the changes, and I always thank them and say good bye after. They can’t see us well, so I like to assure them that we are finally out of the way.

Another ship approached and we repeated this round of communications, and again, the ship passed us safely. More concerning to me, was the third vessel that came toward us with lights on, but no AIS signal. Without AIS, I didn’t know the name of the boat, so I didn’t call it on the VHF. Ocean Rainbow and Alembic sailed close together so that any possible pirate would go elsewhere. And elsewhere they went. It was probably just one of the many fishing boats off Honduras.

After a rough night with almost no sleep (well Bill slept most of the night, but I couldn’t, as usual) the sun began to rise and we could see the faint outline of Glover Reef, our destination. We were a bit ahead of schedule and didn’t want to pass through the reef strewn entrance without good light, so we slowed down. Finally, at 7:30, we decided that the light was high enough to see the coral heads that rose up to five feet from the surface from thirty foot depths. We came through the pass, and dropped anchor at the deserted small island.

Ahh, there’s nothing like the feeling of your anchor digging in and your boat coming to a quiet stop. Bill had felt gross all night, so he was feeling tired, despite his many hours of dozing, and I was exhausted from my hyper alert state that plagues me at sea. “What’s that sound?” “and that?”… while the boat crashes around in the mixed up seas. Little things like spice jars rattling, tea cups knocking, the ladder squeaking, the bilge pump coming on (this is perfectly normal), the sails slatting, a loose line plinking the mast or deck, the water gurgling down the scuppers, the genoa sheet creaking in the winch, whatever, I hear it. I’m never nervous, but I can’t seem to turn off the volume. Each new sound has to be heard, evaluated, placed in the “that’s fine” category just in time for the next one…

Some of the sounds that I missed were those of the main sail chaffing and failing. We discovered that we had broken a slide (plastic piece that slides up the mast and carries the sail up), worn through the webbing stitching holding another slide to the sail, and chaffed through an area of actual sail. This is frustrating because this sail was new in October. It shouldn’t be failing so soon. Luckily, I have spare slides and can sew the webbing back on and patch the sail.

Glover Reef was much too beautiful to delay explorations. We tidied the boat, launched the dinghy off the bow and the outboard motor off the back deck, donned our bathing suits, and headed out for some snorkeling. Napping and sail repair could wait. What a spectacular spot! We would have stayed at Glover Reef another night, with our Q flag flying, but Chris Parker, our faithful weatherman, foretold of a norther blowing through the second night. Our anchorage offered no protection from the north or west. We sailed toward the mainland, and anchored at Tobacco Range which has excellent protection from north winds.

Tucked into the mangroves, we didn’t even take our dinghy off the boat, so we explored by swimming. A local guy, George, was on his dock and invited us to see his place, the only bit of man made structure in sight. Great set up: home with a few bedrooms set back on land, while the kitchen and porch, built on the water’s edge, is just a short walk away. George came over to Alembic for breakfast in exchange for oodles of local knowledge about where we’re allowed to fish, how these Belizean fisherman operate, where to find Manatees, and other important details.

We sailed away, to get a bit closer to the mainland. We had to check in to Customs, but not just yet. Our Q flag was still flying, and nobody seemed to care. Technically, we hadn’t gone to shore, only swimming on reefs and stepping on George’s docks. Almost twenty miles south, at Lagoon Cays, we were reveling in the fact that we were completely alone for a second night, no boats to be seen. Just as we said this, a Charter boat pulled in and dropped anchor right beside us. A captain with four women in their fifties; made me think of the Winn Dixies, The Winn Dixies are ten women, myself included, who have traveled together every fall for decades, to beautiful natural places. I think we should charter a sailboat in Belize one of these years! I’ll have to find one that sleeps ten!

Early the next morning, we saw a manatee lazily swimming in the lagoon. Quickly, Bill launched the paddle board, and I grabbed my snorkel gear. We tried to find him again, Bill looking at the water’s surface, and me looking below. No luck, but the early morning exercise was energizing.

Today was check in day, so we sailed ten miles southwest to Big Creek, just south of Placencia. Following the Cruising Guide, we motored up the Creek, dropped anchor. I dropped Bill off at the shore, but he was quickly shooed away by a guard. Another guard, farther down the pier, said he could come ashore if we paid $100 to land at this pier! No way! Back to Alembic, motoring down the Creek, we marveled at how many changes have already taken place since the Guide Book was written in 2007 (and updated 2013).

Once anchored in Placencia, I dropped Bill off at the dinghy dock, he took the Hokey Pokey water taxi and a land taxi to the exact location we were at up Big Creek! What a hassle! During the time Bill spent to check us in, I shopped for food and for a Belize Simm card. Now we were set for our guests.

Cay and George arrived the next day, just after a heavy but brief rainstorm. Seeing them was wonderful. It seemed to make this journey real. Lindsay visited us for Thanksgiving, but the Bahamas were blowing a hoolie for her four days so we never sailed. Since her visit, we have traveled to unknown places with unknown people. With so many new experiences, it has almost been like reading someone else’s fairy tale. Now we were anchored in our own true life, not someone else’s. We quickly set to planning our ten days of adventure together….It felt perfect.

Utila is a tiny island, the third and last of the Honduran Islands as we headed west, after Guanaja and Roatan. We left Roatan in the morning, ready for a bouncy ride. Sailing alongside Ocean Rainbow,with Claire and James aboard, brought us great comfort, and knowing Cynthia and Sean were sailing nearby on Arkouda, was icing on the cake. Many people say you shouldn’t travel in these waters, so close to the Honduran mainland, without buddy boats. But I love the company for other reasons. It’s fun to take pictures, chat on the VHF, and get excited for new landfalls with others.

Arriving in Utila was easy. Coming around the reef was obvious with the crystal clear water. Many dive boats, tied to mooring buoys or anchored, revealed to us where the best spots to snorkel were. We made our plans to drop anchor and dinghy over for our own adventure. We were not disappointed.

Hippyville was my name for this town. Everyone looked young, happy, relaxed, and ready for adventure. Tourism was nonexistent here except for the typical backpackers. Most of the islands and mainlands we have visited on this journey have many backpackers. This term in New England is usually reserved for those on the Appalachian Trail or some other mountain climbing adventure. Here, in the Western Caribbean, it is used for folks who arrive with heavy backpacks, find super simple living arrangements on boats, in tents, or in hostels, and float through streets looking dreamy and happy. Many are looking for kite surfing and scuba diving. Here, the many dive boats would be their day homes. And the hammocks near the docked boats would be their siesta sites.

Somehow, Bill and I just melted here. We glided down into a rooted calm. Maybe it was the fact that the anchorage was quiet. No 40 knot winds, no reef right on our bow, no fast ferry boats buzzing within ten feet of Alembic every fifteen minutes. Whatever it was, we liked it. Getting water was simple and cheap; just 4 cents per gallon at the dinghy dock (or drive up in your big boat). Restaurants were plentiful and catered to the backpackers who have only pennies to their name.

Our favorite restaurant was this tiny shop where a French guy has been making crepes for nineteen years. You can choose sweet, savory, eggs, meat, or veggies to top them. We had eggs, tomatoes and avocados and were sold on this being our favorite stop.

Sunsets were idyllic, taxis were hilarious,

the grocery store was simple and well stocked,

and the other shops were tiny buildings with goods flowing out onto the streets.

People, bikes, dogs, and three wheeled golf carts shared the streets with no particular pattern. No cars, no rules, no “stay to the right”, just a bunch of wanderers meandering in swerving paths. Nothing posh, anywhere. Just the way we like it! It made me realize that Bill and I are truly happier with simple surroundings and relaxed rules. Getting dressed up and doing anything fancy only adds stress.

Wandering down a street, Bill said “let’s get haircuts!” so we headed into the shop with a Barber Shop pole. Unfortunately, the guy who cuts men’s hair never showed up, so Bill had to rely on my trimming his hair on Alembic later. Looking around the shop, I was comforted by the simplicity. No products, just water in a spray bottle, no magazines, no fancy hairstyle pictures anywhere, just family photos on the wall, no blow dryers. Not even good communication, because she only spoke Spanish and I haven’t gotten to the “haircutting” chapter of my Spanish learning. But, I was thrilled with my new short cut!

Reluctant to leave, we set out at 8pm to weave through a few boats and prepared for an overnight crossing to Belize. Cay and George would be arriving in a few days and we had to get there ahead of them. As much as we looked forward to Belize and their visit, we also longed for more time on this sweet island. Another year…

Roatan was one island we were so looking forward to visiting. Guanaja to the east and Utila to the west are much smaller islands with less people, and less to do, so we thought that Roatan would be our paradise in Honduras. Unfortunately, we arrived at a challenging time and didn’t have the opportunity to fully explore or appreciate this gem of the Caribbean. Challenges revolved around wild weather, a lack of rally cohesiveness, and the need to move on to Belize to pick up guests.

Back in Maine, we met Elvert, a young man who grew up on Roatan and now works in New England. He graciously informed us about places to anchor, scuba dive, eat, fix boats, and find transportation. We shared his emails with all of the rally members and we tried to coordinate dive trips and excursions with Elvert’s many relatives and acquaintances.

Winds howled every night and sometimes throughout the day as well, which made scuba diving and other adventures less appealing, and also caused us to be nervous about leaving Alembic at anchor. Several boats dragged their anchors, one causing a collision with their neighbor.

Twenty-six rally boats were becoming scattered about many islands at this point, as weather, guest arrivals, and boat repairs were creating different needs and interests. We ranged from Providencia, Guanaja, Utila, Guatemala, and Belize, and three boats have already left us to transit the Panama Canal for the Pacific.

Bill and I had begun to feel pressed for time, as we have guests arriving in Belize next week, so we had to sail away before we could follow through on our hopes for Roatan.

While weather and scattered rally boats limited our activities, we certainly enjoyed what we could see and do. To start off, our sail from Guanaja to Roatan was glorious. James, a British gentleman who has lived on these two islands for a few years, was flying home to the UK and needed a lift to Roatan. He had never sailed before, and was lucky enough to transit on a perfect weather window; the calm before the storm!

Anchoring in French Cay Harbor was like being in Grand Central Station! Mini ferry boats zoomed back and forth every ten minutes, carrying people and horses!! to Fantasy Island. During our five day stay, three boats were towed into the anchorage in distress as they lost steering or engines in the waves just outside the entrance reefs. One morning we tried to assist a sailboat on the reef, but even with the four dinghies, we could not begin to help. The seas were huge and our dinghies were almost flipping just trying to get near them. Luckily, their anchor held until a tow boat came to haul them in.

Nature abounds on this island near French Cay Harbor. There is an Iguana Farm where Iguanas are free to roam and have thrived on the visitors’ offerings of fruit and vegetables.

Bill and I brought our compost bucket and shared papaya, banana, carrot, and pumpkin peels. Friendly monkeys jump around in the trees just above your head at the beach area. They love to bang on the outdoor shower nozzle, telling you to turn it on, so they can drink or play in the clear water. Interesting rodents, which look like huge shiny rats with no tails, wander about everywhere, hoping you’ll toss them food. And bird life is prolific; I wish I knew the names of half of them.

Easter was a special day on Roatan. Our best laid plans to attend a service didn’t work out as we had intended. Getting to shore by dinghy in the wild winds, redressing on the dock into dry clothes, climbing up the hill, and sitting down in the church, all went smoothly with a lot of laughs with fellow cruisers. Then we found out that the 9 o’clock service was a children’s bible study, and the service wouldn’t start until 10:30. We had a mini bus to catch at 11 with the rally members to spend the rest of the day celebrating at the West End. Bummer; the service didn’t fit into our plans. “No worries,” said Claire and James, “we will have our own service aboard Ocean Rainbow!” And that we did. Prayers for all of our loved ones, bible readings, and plenty of hymns, filled my heart with Easter love. Claire is excellent with the guitar and James, being a retired British General, is perfect for all things formal.

When the winds calmed enough for us to leave Alembic for a longer period, we rented scooters with friends and drove around the island. We found such a variety of sights.

Extremely poor neighborhoods mixed in with gorgeous high end resorts. We stopped for lunch at a sweet spot, with a tiki hut dangling over the ocean off a small pier. The huge pig lounged in the sand beneath the only table on shore. This was a perfect last day on Roatan. We will have to come back to more fully explore this beautiful island.

Cay and George will be arriving in a week, so we need to take advantage of the weather window to sail on to Utila, then Belize.

Sailing to Guanaja took some planning. There have been incidents of pirates off the coast of Nicaragua and Honduras. People are so poor there; they resort to boarding passing boats to steal stuff. We have heard theft reports of many items, even toilet paper. While we would love to help some of these struggling fellow humans, we don’t feel safe having them come aboard Alembic while we are sailing. Precautions we took were to sail at least twenty miles off the coast, sail in the company of others, and limit our communications on the VHF.

Claudio, on Makani, showed us how to plot the exact locations of the other boats using MMSI numbers on our VHF. If you don’t transmit an AIS signal (we don’t), or you turn this function off to be invisible to pirates, you can still see where your buddy boats are without voicing your latitude and longitude positions on VHF. We kept pinging them in the night to see where they were. Luckily, this pinging was inaudible to them.

Most of the 370 miles was blissfully calm, too calm, as we drifted at about 3 knots for two days. Two of the boats were purists and rarely use their motors, and the wind could barely move us. Our Swiss friends’ position was always exactly on our course line, while our British friends were all over the place. We called them our wayward children, as they let Humphrey, their wind vane, steer the boat. When the wind shifted, so did Ocean Rainbow. Funniest of all, our friends from Belgium sailed in circles because they had trouble slowing down to stay with the rest of us!

Finally, the winds picked up about seventy miles from our destination. Be careful what you wish for: we were wishing for more wind and we were given a gale. Luckily, the winds were from astern. We had sustained 35 knots, 40 in gusts, with huge seas that sometimes crested and broke right over our heads, into the cockpit. Sleeping in the night was not very successful, but we were happy to be moving along quickly. Alembic arrived at Guanaja before daylight, so we had to heave to (a maneuver to slow the boat down) and await the sunrise in order to make it through the reefs. The Caribbean has almost zero navigation buoys, so you rely on your eyes to weave through shallow spots.

Glorious arrival! Perhaps it was the relief to get out of the seas; perhaps it was the scenery; perhaps it was the anticipation of exploring a new spot. We were energized. Dropping anchor right off the tiny island which was home to 85 percent of all inhabitants of Guanaja, Bill went ashore to clear customs while I stayed aboard and tidied up Alembic.

Guanaja, Honduras, was one of our favorite places so far. Snorkeling was excellent right beside the anchorage, hiking was spectacular, and the people were delightful. Locals spoke so many languages. Creole, a mixture of Spanish, English, and Jamaican Patois, was the most common. We met many expats here. A German couple ran Manati, an excellent restaurant at the shore of the anchorage, and another German, Hans, ran another restaurant which specialized in pizza from his outdoor wood fire and his homemade wine. An American owned a huge island with a luxury home. Several more restaurants were sprinkled around the hills surrounding the harbor. There are no cars anywhere in Guanaja, so foot paths led us to many special spots.

Our anchorage was mercifully sheltered from the huge seas and winds that piped up every night. We slept beautifully every night, and enjoyed the mild weather days. Even the day of rain was welcomed; we finally washed the salt from the boat and filled our water tanks with its bounty. We could have stayed here for a month and called it home, but we had to move on. Guests are arriving in Belize soon. So off we go to Roatan, another island of Honduras.

 

March 8th is a special day. Thank you, Barbie and Ben and the universe for bringing Bill here. Celebrating his arrival was especially fun this year. This spectacular morning rainbow arcing over Alembic promised us a good day.

Renting a moto (a motor scooter) allowed us to explore all of Providencia. We arrived here the day before and were eager to see the many beautiful destinations. We drove or hiked down to every beach and poked our heads into the many simple restaurants. Roland’s was a perfect choice for us to stop for lunch. Here we enjoyed a magnificent meal of grilled King while we watched a horse swim with its master and locals fly off a rope swing into the water.

After lunch, we found mangroves growing in a bright pink water which is a naturally occurring phenomenon. Locals gave us mixed answers as to why this happens. Some said it is high in iron, others said the orchids cause this, and still more were sure that the roots of the mangroves leach this color when the water levels get too low. More research is needed here by me.

Back in town, we had an amusing experience getting our Yellow Fever shots. Admittedly, this isn’t a great birthday activity, but we actually have been looking for months now, so getting the shots and the proof card was actually a gift. We have found clinics which offer the shots, but don’t give the proof cards. Cards are necessary for admittance into some countries and we don’t want to be refused! With no fee and no waiting, and smiles as the only language, this visit was quick and simple.

The young man spoke not a word of English, and we not a word of medical Spanish. This could never happen in the US. Liabilities are a show stopper there. If anyone is allergic to eggs, too old, or possibly sick, they shouldn’t get this shot, and clinics would never deliver without these and many other questions. The simplicity in Colombia has its advantages.

To top off the day, we had a lovely dinner at Miss Lucy’s with three other couples who live on their boats. No rally members are in this harbor yet, so we are enjoying meeting new people.

The cake I made in the morning, using fresh pumpkin and red wine, was adorned with silly candles that the waitress scored. She shouted into the street to flag down a friend on a passing moto and asked him to go find candles. After back and forth shouting, and a ten minute space of time, two candles, reading the number ten, arrived on the cake! Typical for cruising: never exactly what you expect, but fabulous improvisation results.

We dinghied back to Alembic in the dark, happy, full, tired, and ready for another good year.

Being in the Panama Canal is mind-blowing. The history of its construction, the enormous expense, the complexity of its operation, it’s all magic. First, our rally took a bus and train trip along the canal that lasted three days. Then Bill and I joined a German catamaran and helped them transit. All of this occurred while Alembic sat securely tied to a dock in Shelter Bay Marina, Colon. Maybe someday we will take her through.

Our rally trip started with a bus tour through the San Lorenzo Forest and Fort. We saw sloths, snakes, toucans, Solo Cats (more like a raccoon), monkeys, and interesting plants. The San Lorenzo Fort was a magnificent structure with layers of pirate, canal, and Panamanian history. A women in the Canal Center gave us a thorough explanation of the history and construction of the locks as well as the plans to open the new wider, deeper locks.

After the bus tour, traveling along the canal by train gave us a close up view of the canal and lake system. We could see the devastating effects of El Niño; stubs of trees which have been submerged for one hundred years are now standing a foot or two above the surface of the man made Lake Gatun. This lake supplies the water to fill the locks to lower the ships down to the ocean. If this lake gets any lower, the canal may have to close. Basically, the lake is 85 feet above both the Atlantic and the Pacific, fills with rainwater, and dumps it into the three locks on either side to raise and lower the ships. When the locks open, the lake water dumps into the ocean. So for every ship that passes, precious lake water is lost. We need more rain to fill the lake so this operation can continue.

Money can buy anything, even rain, right? Maybe. The ships are paying a huge fee to transit this canal. Some pay over a half million dollars to make this trip. Their cost is so high because they fill the entire lock by themselves, not sharing the lake water, and they need pilots to come aboard the ship for guidance, and locomotives, with drivers on each, to center and propel them through each lock. If we take Alembic through, it would be more like $1500. This fee covers an advisor to be aboard to give instructions, borrowed long lines to reach up to people walking along the locks on both sides, and at least eight huge borrowed buoys to keep you from scraping the cement sides of the canal or other boats you may be tied to. Alembic could go through the canal with a raft of four boats wide, and ten of these rafts could fit in each lock to share the lake water.

After the bus and train rides, our rally arrived in Panama City just in time to check into our fancy hotel, the Waldorf Astoria, and head out for dinner. We chose a spunky Beirut restaurant that surprised us with Belly dancers circling our table throughout the meal!

Walking around Panama City the next day was a cultural experience. We were shocked at how modern the city is, yet you could still find Kunas selling molas, and fishermen selling their catch on the streets.

We returned to Alembic to make final preparations for sailing north to Providencia. Disassembling and lubricating the winches was more of a chore than Bill had anticipated.

We have found that routine maintenance before things break is a worthwhile task, and this one was overdue. I prepped by sewing and traveling to a faraway grocery store for provisions. Alembic was ready to go; but first we were headed to the canal again, this time to help Catarina as line handlers.

Catarina was a 42 foot catamaran with a German Captain and a Maltese Woman as first mate. Graham and Wendy, from Oystermist in our rally, came along too for a wonderful experience. Four line handlers and a captain are required, in addition to the advisor that comes aboard, and having Denise, as the cook and photographer, was an added bonus. We left Shelter Bay Marina early in the afternoon, and entered the canal by evening. Surprisingly, we were not rafted at all, so the four line handlers were needed.

We shared the locks with a huge ship in front of us. While they were connected to cables for centering and propulsion, we were tossed four lines with a monkey’s fist (this is a ball like a tennis ball, tied to the end of the twine) from up high on the canal walls. Each of the four of us took our monkey’s fist, tied it to the heavy long lines and fed it back to the men pulling it up to the bollard. Once the long lines were secured on the bollards, the locks closed, and the water began pouring into our lock. The water level rose almost 30 feet, requiring line handlers to continuously shorten the lines holding Catarina in the center of the lock. At this point, the men at the bollards released our loops and sent our lines back down to us, so they were carrying only the lightweight twine as they walked us (Catarina was under her own propulsion) to the next lock. Once in place at lock number two, we repeated the process, going up another 30 feet. And again for lock number three.

Now, at the level of Gatun Lake, we motored to a huge buoy, where we tied up and said goodbye to Freddie, our advisor. By the time we had dinner and cleaned up, it was already eleven o’clock, so we headed to our berths. Three full private berths are a luxury we are not used to! The luxury ended at 4 am as we heard a loud boat motor up and tie to our buoy too. We thought it was our advisor, ready to begin day 2, but it was just another freighter, readying for a snooze before their continuation of the transit.

Another 3 hours of sleep was welcomed, and we woke refreshed and ready. Francisco, our second day advisor, arrived at 9 and we headed off to motor four hours to reach the next set of locks. Arriving at the locks, we had to wait at least an hour to tie up to Discovery, our raft buddy boat. Line handling was much less exciting for this part of the trip because we simply had to wait for Discovery to tie to the wall, then we tied to Discovery and descended with them. We untied each time the locks opened so that we and Discovery could motor to the next lock independently. The huge ship that came into the locks with us was incredibly slow; they probably didn’t want to crush us! Getting through the three locks with this arrangement of Catarina and Discovery, a tug, and the ship took an hour longer than it was scheduled, and we finally moved through the last opening, into the Pacific, at 8:30 pm.

Catarina’s Captain dropped anchor at Balboa Yacht Club and a launch came to us quickly, taking Bill, Graham, Wendy, and I, along with the four borrowed heavy lines, and 8 huge fenders. We barely had time to say goodbye to this wonderful couple and sweet boat.

The four of us had planned to take a taxi back to our marina this evening, but the lateness, and my broken tooth, helped us decide that we should stay in Panama City one more night. No Waldorf Astoria this time, though; we didn’t want to spend $130 per night or deal with those fancy people! We flopped into comfy chairs, had a few beers, and found a cheap hotel online.

Google maps showed us the next morning that we had chosen the right spot for a hotel. Fifteen dentist offices were within walking distance! Bill and I visited a few of them, made an appointment for noon, and thanked our lucky stars that this appointment was cheap, simple, painless, and quick. A filling had fallen out while we were leaving Catarina, and replacing it was easy, but necessary.
Oberto, our cab driver, was a bit inexperienced, and charged the four of us much less than most cabbies to take us back to the marina. While only 45 miles, waiting for bridge openings to cross the Panama Canal and dealing with the gigantic potholes, the trip took almost 3 hours. We tipped him well and he seemed grateful.

Stepping aboard Alembic brought that Home Sweet Home feeling. We love this boat, and being away from her for two nights again was tough. Since she was prepped for offshore, we had one last snooze at the marina, and untied the next morning. Setting sails again, and heading north for a two day passage was wonderful. Off to Providencia!