Getting Out There

For the majority of the time we’ve spent here in San Blas, we’ve been in the more traveled areas. But we’re finally heading out to some of the outer islands, which are better for freediving, spearfishing, and the like.   There are more fish, less people, and clearer water.

Prado, Roberto, Again

We dropped anchor at a small island whre my Kuna friends Prado and Roberto reside. Last time around Prado made a couple of passes at me and I went freediving and spearfishing with Roberto. In addition to Prado/Roberto, there are about 6 Kuna that live on this little island.

Prado was out in his dugout right after we set anchor. Through Prado, I arranged to pick up Roberto and head to do some spearing/diving. We needed a little fish, but the plan was to load up Roberto for guiding us to his spots. And we did.

The next morning we were up early, and I almost canceled on my Kuna spearing buddy. No particular reason, I was just tired. Damo and Chels motivated me, so I rallied and we picked Roberto up a little past 7AM.

Spearfishing with the Kuna

We navigated through a lagoon studded with tricky coral heads and shallows – directly past a large freighter that wrecked on the reef 4 years ago. It’s a good reminder not to get complacent out here – even big vessels with professional crews are lost.

Ship Skeletons

When we jumped in, it was shallow (30ft) with huge coral heads reaching up from the bottom within inches of the surface.   Lots of life, mostly small snapper and lobster. We soon realized what Roberto was looking for (lobster), and for that – this spot was epic.

Damo managed a nice Spanish Mackerel within the first 15 minutes. I went sightseeing and dove with my buddy Roberto for the majority of the time. Occasionally I’d point out a lobster for him, occasionally I’d test my skills and try to get close to the spooky snapper. But I never really did engage into full hunting mode.

Roberto and a Big Lobster

Roberto, though, was deep into lobster-catching mode.   He managed an 8 pounder, and then many smaller ones. He also shot a really small snapper and grunt.

Spearfishing with the Kuna

When Damo and I saw the small snapper and grunt in the boat –  we realized we should open up a bit and shoot him some real fish. But by that time we’d been at this spot for a couple of hours – so I rounded up the troops and we headed off in search of another dive spot.

The next spot was right next to the large, grounded freighter. I kicked around a shallow ledge for a bit. Damo shot an Ocean Triggerfish, which I put a quick backup shot into. Then I shot another. At this point I was done shooting, as Roberto would already have enough to feed the island.

As I got back to the dinghy, Damo swam up with a monster Dog Snapper and told us about a great spot he found. Of course we had so much fish, we couldn’t shoot anything else – so we headed back to S/V NOMAD – where we took pictures.   Then I dropped off Roberto with enough lobster and fish to feed a small Kuna Army.

 

The Morning’s Haul

Lobster’s for Dinner

Everyone on the island showed up to see the day’s catch, and Roberto became quite a popular guy as he hauled out the lobster and fish. Everyone was eating well that night.  Prado continued to work on me – he opened a coconut for me and followed me around.

Back onboard, it was hardly noon. But we made a little tapas-style lunch and broke out the wine under the tent on my trampolines. Without a cloud in the sky and even a tiny breeze – it was warm enough that we didn’t move much. We read, talked slowly, munched, and then napped. We spent a full five hours under the tent on the front deck, doing nothing but enjoying the view. It felt great.

Tappas in the Tent

Damo took up the job of modeling for our cheap wine.  It was shortly after this that we decided it wasn’t really wine.  This stuff is grape juice, with wine flavoring, and a bit of alcohol.  It deserves a class of it’s own, not because it’s good.  But because it’s just not wine, or grape juice.  Grine?  Gralcohol?

Damo’s Wine Modeling

More Spearfishing and Freediving

The next morning we did pancakes and coffee, then headed out to the spot Damo whacked the big Dog Snapper the day before. We all saw that it could be productive, and Damo spent the time chasing a big Dog Snapper and Black Grouper through the maze of holes.

The spot was shallow enough that it didn’t require any real diving skill. The skill was in holding your breath long enough to put your whole body into the caves and tunnels in the reef.  Then let your eyes adjust.  Then hunt around. And then manage to get back out. Here’s how we spent the whole morning.

Deep in the Caves

There were several caves that were completely filled with minnows. Thousands. Maybe tens of thousands. I tried to get to the back of the cave they were occupying, but they would surround me and block out the light – which made it difficult to find my way back out.  See below.

Checking Caves, Inverted

We eventually gave up, and headed back to the mothership. It began to rain so we scrubbed decks, then ourselves. Then Damo made the first fried-fish meal of the trip and we had beer and fried fish until we were stuffed.

Originally we were headed to Coco Banderos that afternoon, but with poor light we decided to kill another day here. In better light we’ll pick our way around the reefs and head to Coco. I’d like to spend a few days there really exploring underwater. There’s also often backpackers heading through there – which can lead to a bit of festivities if we all end up at the bar.   Damo and Chels are ready for a bit of human interaction and time off the boat – so, fingers crossed.

Getting Out There

Time in West Hollandes

Well – things are still breaking and I’m still adding to an ever-growing list of boat-projects.  That said, I’ve decided that only the stuff I can fix now is worth worrying about.  The rest will wait, mostly because we’re enjoying the time spent here.

It’s been relaxing, and for the first time I had a period where I felt bored.  When I realized I was bored, I got excited.  It’s funny – I haven’t had the privilege of feeling bored for a long, long time.  I remember when I started this, people kept telling me about all the time I would have.

Well, until the other afternoon – I haven’t felt like I’ve had “spare” time.

Fuel Stuff

Well, my fix for the starboard exhaust system was a win.  When I put everything back together, we were in business.  But when I cranked my port engine, I quickly realized that I’d failed to route the return fuel line to my day tank.  The result was overpressure in my (clogged) fuel tank, which led to fuel escaping from my overflow.

I had a pretty good idea how to fix it, so we got some water (very expensive) and some fuel (not too bad) from Eliphante in preparation for our exit.  With more fuel, water, and Coke onboard (for the Cuba Libres) I took a whack at the remaining issue with my port side fuel system.  I got it right, took a dip to get the diesel off of me, and we left East Lemmons.

The Engine Room Tent

 

Western Hollandes

I have a couple of favorite anchorages in the Hollandes.  Both aren’t frequented by most cruising yachts – so we typically have plenty of room.  There are good reasons for the lack of other yachts in the area – mostly because the anchorages are tricky and are exposed to (at least) one side.  This means we spent a bit more time/energy in anchoring, and that we risk getting a little bit of the ol’ rock and roll at night – if the wind shifts.

The plusses outweigh the minuses, usually.  These spots are nice – patch reef right off the back of the catamaran, spectacular views, ten thousand shades of blue in the lagoons, and a short swim to the outside barrier reef.  See for yourself.

 

Sneaky Crab

Our Spot in West Hollandes

Sunset Over the Catamaran

Nighttime Entertainment

Our nights are pretty chill.  We all look forward to a well-prepared meal and a good drink.  Some nights we put out the LED light – which attracts a ton of fish and makes for great entertainment.  Some nights we cook popcorn and watch a movie.  The first night in our spot in the Hollandes, we did both.

I dropped the LED light pretty early, caught some live bait, and dropped a couple of lines in the water.  Then we all ate dinner.  Then we had a drink and debated which movie to watch.  This was a serious issue, and it took an hour to decide. We settled on Snatch, which Chels hadn’t seen (really?).

I was making the popcorn, but got hit by a wave when I was pouring the kernels into the pan.  I poured enough kernels into the pan to feed a small army.  It took two of us to figure out how to get it out of the pan.  After we’d plowed through a couple of bowls of popcorn, we all heard a familiar sound – a reel buzzing.

 

Too Much Popcorn

I’d like to take the time here to point out that my crew rocks.  Both Damo and Chels jumped up and ran to get the line yelling “Fish!” before I’d even identified what the sound was.  They were that fast.  I grabbed a light and in a couple of minutes we’d pulled in and released a decent Jack.  They’re edible, but we were stocked full of fish.  And if we took another fish, we’d have no excuse to go hunt in the morning…

 

Night Fishing

Dive Time

Diving here is pretty damn good.  When Chels came back from her first dive, she said:  “that’s the most amazing dive I’ve ever had – it’s like an aquarium.”  Or something like that.  It really is beautiful.  And there’s a ton of diversity in the underwater life as well as the depth/bottom/coral.  The water is clear, and the whole area is full of life.

We all headed out to the outer reef, and managed to find a couple of cool spots.  Nurse sharks, reef sharks, rays, and every imaginable kind of reef fish.  Huge ledges, deep caves, and swim-throughs.   It’s amazing what you’ll see when you get shoulder-deep into one of those caves.

Since we had plenty of fish, we were keeping the fish-taking to a minimum.  Only a trophy fish or an especially tasty fish would be taken.  I passed on a few small snapper – but Damo got a trophy Dog Snapper, only to have it pull off.  About the same time, I caught a glimpse of the largest grouper I’ve seen yet here.  But that’s the last I saw of him.

After three hours of solid freediving, we headed back.  In the channel, on the way back to S/V NOMAD, Damo found a nice lobster.  We traded off wrestling with it underwater until Damo finally got it out.  Funny thing is Damo can’t eat lobster or shellfish, so it was up to Chels and I.  But Chels doesn’t really like lobster and is fundamentally opposed to Macaroni & Cheese.  So I made a variation of Macaroni & Cheese with a delicious lobster topping – and that was my lunch.  Spoiled rotten.

Lobster for Lunch

Then we napped.

 

Evening Diving

That evening I was reading, and my crew decided they were headed out for another snorkel.  I was reading and deciding on our next anchorage.  But Damo came back and told me the whole area had come alive.  Damo was diving without fins and without his speargun, so naturally a huge grouper came and hung out with him.  Needless to say, Damo got his fins and speargun and went back in.

 

I wasn’t really on a trophy hunt, but I do enjoy the evening dives – it’s when all of us predators are out doing the same thing: hunting.  So I grabbed my gear and went diving in my underwear, just off the back of the catamaran.  The only thing I saw worth mentioning was a large school (?) of squid.  I love calamari, so I decided to try my hand at stalking squid.  I can tell you – it’s hard.

They’re smart, can change color, are quick, and present a tiny target – usually at long range.  I pulled out every trick in the book, but wasn’t having much luck.  Then I got a break and surprised one by sitting on the bottom in his path and waiting on him to come over me.  When I pulled the trigger – the whole area went black with squid ink.  I’d made a pretty good (lucky?) shot and now we had calamari.

But one squid isn’t worth frying, so I went back out on the hunt in the dwindling light.  The squid had apparently learned their lesson about letting me sneak up on them.  No dice.  But this being a pretty decently sized specimen – we put him on the grill with our fish.  I still prefer fried calamari – but it’s nice grilled as well.

Squid and Fish for the Grill

 

Rock And Roll

After a day of complete calm, the wind picked up at night and the waves began coming in at short intervals – perpendicular to the wind.  Naturally they both came in from the area where we weren’t protected in this anchorage.  Nature was taxing us for our last couple of days hanging out in this little paradise.

The real complication was the patch reef behind the catamaran.  That same reef we’d enjoyed so much earlier was now a cause for concern.  I had my anchor alarm set, and we’d pulled a little toward the reef – but nothing worth stressing about.  But, of course, I spent the majority of the night checking my anchor alarm and watching our position.

I can’t wait to put a bigger anchor on another 200’ of chain.

There was also a spectacular lightning show.  These are both stunning and terrifying.  It’s like meeting a beautiful nemesis.  You can’t help but appreciate the beauty.  But the beauty of it doesn’t keep you from realizing it could cripple you.  The lightning was, thankfully, unsuccessful in hitting any of the yachts in our area.

I watched the dark of night turn to the grey of morning.  Then the wind stopped completely – which is going to guarantee us a very warm day.  The next morning, on the local cruiser’s net (SSB radio station, where we get weather and converse) it was noted that we might get some weather that night.  That means we’re pulling our anchor up this afternoon and taking off to a more secure and protected anchorage.  It also means we’re dropping two anchors off the bow – I want a solid night’s rest.

Time in West Hollandes

Things Escalated Quickly

Well, we were tested.  And we passed.  Though I can’t say the test was fun, I am really glad my crew reacted the way they did.  Mind you – this wasn’t the final exam, merely a pop-quiz.  A healthy reminder of how quickly things can change when you’re out here voyaging.

Chels also told me her Mom was reading this site now.  So, “Hi” to Chels’ Mom.  Your daughter’s kicking butt, alive and well.

Rain, Finally

We were on the back end of the charter and things were looking pretty up.  We finally got some rain, which helped with the freshwater issue.  Then we had a nice, relaxing morning reading and drinking coffee in Chichime while we waited for the weather to calm down.  It wasn’t bad – just some strong winds (20+ knots), rain, and overcast.

I generally don’t like moving around in stuff like that, but we needed to get our charter guests back to the pick-up spot.  So around 2PM I called it – we needed to move.  The wind was gusting to 20 knots, the lighting was poor, but the rain had quit.

Well – we pulled up the dinghy and kayak, fired up the engines and GPS, and we were off.  But, as I was leaving I heard a horrible crash.  And when I looked around the kayak was in a really weird position.  As I was maneuvering around boats and shallows in the anchorage, I didn’t have time to ponder it – I just told Chels to tie it up.  Which was when she noticed the anchor line that we use for the kayak was broken.  And shortly after that she informed me that the anchor line we used for the kayak was wrapped around my starboard prop.

A Problem

This was a problem.  We were in a pretty tight spot, with relatively large winds, and I’d just lost all control of the boat.  Immediately the wind started pushing us back toward another boat.  I used my port engine to maneuver around that. By that time, Damo had his snorkel on and was in the water sawing at the line.  I needed to drop anchor to slow us down, but the windlass wasn’t dropping rode.  So I sent Chels to flip the breaker.  Still not dropping the anchor.  Then Chels went up front and found the issue – the chain was off the windlass. She quickly fixed it and we started dropping anchor.

We were being blown backwards so quickly the anchor didn’t have any time to set.  So we started dragging anchor.  Fast.  We’d maneuvered around the other boats in the anchorage, so now we were being blown into the shallows.  It would have been ugly.

Thankfully a couple of Kuna saw our predicament and dropped into the water to help Damo cut the line free of the prop. And thankfully our anchor started to dig in.  So I used the windlass to pull us out of the shallow water, into relative safety.

Damo surfaced saying the line was completely free.  I cranked the engine, and we breathed a collective sigh of relief as we maneuvered out of Chichime.  Jesus.  There are plenty of lessons to be learned from this, it was a rookie move that almost really cost me.  But my crew had just nailed a pretty tough series of issues.  So we let it be and pointed toward East Lemmons, where we’d drop off our charter guests (who seemed to be enjoying the spectacle).

 

Another Problem

The wind and waves had picked up.  Though we were in a relatively protected area, we were beating through a slop of confused seas with short wave periods. And the wind was 25 knots, on our nose.  I had both engines pushing us, at relatively low RPM’s, and we were doing about 4 knots SOG (speed over ground).  Then I heard a bad sound.

I could hear my port side (newly installed) electric fuel pump struggling.  Which meant my engine was about to lose fuel.  Which meant I was about to lose an engine, again.  The engine lasted another 20 minutes or so, then as it began struggling – I killed it.  We were blowing into shore, but since I had power on starboard side – I did a 1/2 circle and got the wind on my port bow to help keep us straight.  Then Damo took the wheel and I jumped into the engine room.

I emptied the Racor fuel filter- there was some gunk in there.  More than I’d like to see.  So I pulled off the Racor altogether – dirtier than expected but not a game-killer.  So I filled everything back up and went to bleed the lines.  Well – there was zero fuel coming through those lines.  Back to square one.

So I pulled the fuel lines off and checked for resistance (meaning I tried to suck diesel through the hose).  I was hoping for a mouthful of diesel (yeah, I realize how that sounds) – but didn’t get much.  Major problem.  This means there’s a gunk-clog somewhere in either my fuel tank, or my fuel lines running from my tank to my Racor.  Which means I can’t use that tank right now.  The most likely culprit was a fungus that grows in diesel down here.  Read that again – there’s a damn fungus that grows in diesel down here, and it had completely crippled me at sea.  Lame.

I was covered in grime, bleeding from a few places on my hands, and not too excited about trying to get anchored with only one engine.  But, as I crawled out of the engine room – Damo told me he’d been steering on the single engine very well.  The wind had died down to 4 knots, and if we kept a speed of 4 (plus) knots – the steering was fairly responsive.  My original plan had been to drop the dinghy, side-tie it to the port side, and use it’s engine to power my port side.  But that seemed like a lot of crap to mess with in the open, so I grabbed the helm and played with the steering.  Good news:  Damo was right, we could probably anchor with a single engine.

Into the Anchorage

4 knots isn’t very fast in the open ocean.  But it’s pretty much flying around an unfamiliar anchorage in low-light.  But I couldn’t go any slower or I’d lose all maneuverability, and wouldn’t be able to get it back. So we flew around the anchorage.  Luckily it was pretty open – very few boats in a pretty large area.  As we were flying around, we ran over a pretty shallow area that was perfect for anchoring.  So I made a wide circle, slowed down, and dropped the hook.  It wasn’t easy, but I got S/V NOMAD swung around and backed down on the anchor.  We were hooked.

Everybody breathed a collective sigh of relief, and I started washing the diesel and engine grime out of the cuts on my hands.  We all settled back into our roles, and carried on our post-anchor routines.  Everybody had performed admirably, but I needed to get off the boat for a bit.  So I offered to buy the first couple of rounds at the “bar” on Elephante (the nearest island).  The “bar” is run by a couple of Kuna’s – one gay, one transvestite – and it consists of a small hut with 4 sagging plastic chairs and a bench table.

Chels, the charter guests, and I started drinking and conversing.  It was like the day melted off of us.  Two beers in and we’d almost forgotten about the trials shortly before.  I was reminded a little more frequently than the others, I think, because I had a million small cuts on both paws (from rushed engine-room work) that were pretty sensitive to the cold bottled Balboa.

 

Back Onboard

We made it through four rounds before the dinner bell was rung.  Damo had stayed onboard for some alone-time and to cook us dinner. When he’d finished dinner, he put out the green underwater LED light to let us know.  When we approached S/V NOMAD it looked like some alien craft sitting in the middle of the anchorage.

Dinner was awesome, and afterwards I took the plates out to scrape off overboard. And noticed a shark, or a tarpon, under the LED light.  So I told everyone to come out.  The next hour was full of debate – shark or tarpon?  I went through this a couple of nights in a row when I was in the Hollandes last time around – so I changed my mind and guessed tarpon.  Nobody believed me for a bit.  But, yes, it was a tarpon.  So Damo wanted to catch it.

We needed the entertainment.

The fish was huge.  It would have given Damo the fight of his life.  And that’s what he wanted.  So, while everyone else watched the Spotted Eagle Rays circle the light – Damo and I caught live bait and started tossing it around the tarpon.  The tarpon made a serious run at one bait, but it wasn’t in the cards.  But there was a massive bait ball under the light – so we tried to drop a GoPro on a fishing line down to get some footage of it.  It was too dark.

 

Just the Crew

The next morning I dropped our charter guests off on Eliphante.  They were awesome, I think we all had fun – despite the couple of tense moments.  That said – it’s those moments that actually make memories.  An uneventful sail back to East Lemmons would have been exactly that – uneventful.  And therefore; unmemorable.

Back onboard we settled into a state of normalcy.  Damo cooked, Chels kept things from devolving into chaos, and I got dirty in the engine room. A friend called me to talk me through some troubleshooting and some possible fixes.  And he reminded me of something:  this is it.  I made it.  There’s no rush, there’s no schedule, there’s no reason to be stressed.  My catamaran is securely anchored in one of the most beautiful spots on Planet Earth, and that’s something I’ve been working toward for a long time.  I’m young, I’ve got my health, I’ve got time, and a boat most guys my age would kill for.

When the myriad of challenges of voyaging via sailing yacht enter your head – sometimes it’s hard to remember that this is fun. It was a turning point to just sit in the engine room – sweating gallons, and calmly and slowly work through my issue.  I solved it (temporarily) with a day-tank.

Then I moved to the other engine to address a leaky exhaust hose.  And I found a much more serious issue.  What I’d thought was a leaky exhaust hose, was in fact a small river flowing out of my exhaust system.  Had this been a singly day earlier, it would have been devastating.  But with a little bit of Zen and the Art of Motorcycle Maintenance bouncing around in my head – I just evaluated the situation.  Then I jumped out of the engine room, had lunch, and pondered the issue.

I spent the rest of the day doing the best repair job I could, with the tools I had onboard – and today we’ll see if I managed to make a workable solution.  I’m guessing so.  We were due for some good luck, so we were thrilled when we spotted the veggie boat.  There are a couple of guys that run veggies to various anchorages – and we caught them.  Lucky us.

The Veggie Boat

Then, because we needed some fresh fish – Damo and I took off on the kayak for a little kayak fishing (the visibility is a little off right now).  Damo wasn’t convinced we’d land anything, but I kept the faith.  About 30 minutes into our little trip a reel was buzzing and Damo got to fight a pretty good sized Barracuda on light tackle, on a kayak.  It was fun to watch, and I could tell that Damo was having a blast.  Equally importantly, with no ciguatera down here – we now had fresh fish for our next meal.

Wrapping Up

Yesterday Chels told me she felt sorry for me, when I was in the engine room bleeding all over the place, with diesel and oil in my cuts and scrapes.  It occurred to me that I’d heard that sentiment before from some readers, so here’s some clarification:  pity is the wrong emotion.

This whole thing is a massive experiment.  The learning curve is pretty steep, and sometimes it seems like the stakes are really high.  And often, boat issues seem to dominate the thought-landscape.  I read a little Thoreau this morning though, as I drank coffee and watched the sun come up over the back of my catamaran.  It helps remind me why I started this.

“Through want of enterprise and faith men are what they are, buying and selling, and spending their lives like serfs…  We should come from far, from adventures, and perils, and discoveries every day, with new experience and character.”

With that in mind, here’s the truth:

Everybody onboard has stories that will never make it to this site.  Tons of them.  And every one of the crew members onboard has experiences you can’t understand – because the intensity of the highs and lows are too much for words.  There’s no substitute for experience, and peril, and adventure.  And I promise you, if you’re looking to build character this is a Hell of a way to do it.

It’s like mainlining life.  It’s pure, unadulterated life.  It’s not muted by the conveniences at home.  There are few rules.  You’re completely in charge of your own destiny.  

All the career success in the world won’t give you these experiences.  You can’t buy the kind of character this builds.  You can’t make up the stories you’ll live through.  There are no places in civilization that can give you this freedom.  No matter how hard you try, there’s no substitute for this in a cubicle, or a corner office.  There’s nothing behind that computer screen that can change you the way this kind of life can.

So, what did you do yesterday?

Things Escalated Quickly

My First Charter

So, I’m pretty new at this whole sailing and cruising thing.  Like really new.  So imagine my surprise when a friend asked me to pick up a charter for him…

The good news is that sailing in San Blas is simple.  Nice, enjoyable, simple.  The biggest real risk is a chuckasana – which is a short, but gnarly gust of wind and rain.  They’re pretty common here, and every time one comes through several boats drag anchor – either into other boats or into a reef.  As a matter of fact, there’s one grounded here in Chichime right now.  Shit’s real.  It takes an immense amount of blood, sweat and tears to get the boat and learn the systems.  It takes just minutes to lose one.  Really, only seconds.

But I haven’t lost it S/V NOMAD yet, and I have survived one of these little storms.  I didn’t know what they were called then, but the last time I was here I was hit by one the day I capsized my dinghy.  It kept me up on anchor watch after a really long and trying day.  I wonder if that makes me a chuckasana veteran?

My First Charter

Back to the present.  I have a couple of charter guests onboard.  And they’re great – intelligent, good conversationalists, easy to cook for, adventurous and well-traveled.  Can’t complain at all.  That said, I wasn’t looking for a charter.  And I won’t again for a while.  It is nice to have a little money coming in, as so much has been going out.  But we’re a little cramped with 5 people onboard.  Not badly, just a little.  I have the owner’s version of the Lagoon 380, so I’m a little short on cabin space with larger groups.  There’s plenty of space to hang out, only sleeping arrangements are questionable as we’re all single (excepting our charter guests).

So – the charter is great.  It seems like everyone is enjoying it.   Damien is an excellent chef (and has been awesome).  Chelsea is a little OCD, so she cleans like a champ (she’s also been great).  And I get really dirty fixing stuff in the engine room, and steer this catamaran around the reefs.  We’ve got a good thing going, the three of us.   That works out nicely for this mini-charter I have going on, as they don’t every have to worry about stuff – it just gets done without taxing anybody.

Once it was settled that I was indeed having a charter – we needed to provision.  So we went to Carti.  On the way we caught a nice mackerel, which fed us for a night.

Holy mackerel

Anchoring in Carti was a nightmare.  We almost parked S/V NOMAD on the reef.  Then we were forced to anchor in deep water.  Because the anchorage was questionable, I sent Chels and Damo to shore for the shopping and I stayed onboard in case the damn anchor pulled.  Good thing, because the damn anchor pulled.  And suddenly my ass-end was in 2 meters of water with a hard bottom, and that 2 meters was shrinking.  No bueno.

So I lifted anchor and moved my boat into deeper water where it was safer.  Of course that meant I had to let out tons of rode, and that I’d invariably pull anchor slowly – but at least I wouldn’t punch a hole in my bottom.  Damo and Chels made it back and we ran out of that horrible anchorage to East Lemmon Cay – where we picked up our guests.

The “grocery store”

Provisions

No Water

With 5 people onboard, you burn through water.  There’s no way around it.  People do start to get the hint when the water runs out though.  I (of course) have an emergency drinking stash of water, so we’re fine.  It’s actually a good exercise as it’ll keep us conserving water after our charter guests leave.  And it taught me just how deficient my watermaker is right now.  Part of that is related to my battery bank.

No Energy

It all started in Puerto Lindo.  I went out for  a quick drink (I think?) with a friend.  Or maybe to borrow something.  Anyways, I was off the boat, and I hadn’t had the opportunity to show my new crew how to monitor the batteries onboard.  With the last few months of cloudy weather and no sun, we were consuming WAY more energy than we were giving back into the batteries.  So, I got back onboard – and the batteries were so low that they wouldn’t crank my engine (my fault, as I left the battery switch in the wrong location).  That was a sign, as normally that wouldn’t have happened – my batteries were in rough shape.

Well, since then, we’ve been fighting cloudy days.  And I’ve learned the battery bank is failing.  It’s not taking a charge, and dumping the charge immediately.   That’s impacting my ability to make water, because my watermaker needs 12.5 volts at the watermaker (meaning it must travel through the wiring, where it looses voltage).  With my battery banks not taking a charge over 12.4, by the time that energy makes it to my watermaker – it’s not enough to produce meaningful water.  ‘Nuff said.

Something Nasty

I caught a bug.  It was a stomach bug (I think).  It started with all the signs of a stomach bug.  But then it progressed into lightheadedness, cramps, some chills, and then a fever.  Crazy, nasty stuff.  I wasn’t sleeping well, pushing pretty hard freediving, and sweating gallons in the engine room.  And there was some stuff going on at home that kept me a little stressed – so it was understandable.  The good news is that it was only a couple of days worth.  And though it did happen during the charter, my awesome crew (thanks Chels and Damo!!!!) really covered my ass and kept everything operating smoothly.  We think it was the pate.  We had a bleu cheese and pate lunch one day – it was delicious, but it killed my stomach.  Major bummer at sea.

 

Black Smoke

Well, on the way back from Carti (to provision) my portside engine just cut out.  Completely dead.  That’s a problem, because it’s pretty tough to anchor on a single engine.  We had trouble starting it, and I decided that were were going to hang outside of the anchorage, drop the dinghy, and tie the dinghy to the port side to help steer into the anchorage.  Before I did that I tried the old diesel hard-start trick of a rag of WD40 (or alcohol, or any other combustible fluid) over the air intake.  And it fired up.  But it was spitting black smoke.  No bueno.

We limped into East Lemmons and anchored.  Met a fellow cruiser who told us to contact some South African on the net – his name was Mike.  Of course, we had just left Mike and his wife.  And fed them.  So I felt not at all ashamed about giving him a ring on the VHF and asking his advice.  He told me to pull the exhaust hose off the engine and check to see if the exhaust had calcified, blocking my exhaust and causing high exhaust back-pressure.  That would, in turn, cause the diesel to not fully combust in the chamber, which would then

 

Diving with Friends

The good news is that, despite some obvious concerns – we’re killing it out here.  We’ve had some ups and downs, a couple of minutes of panic and terror as well as some pretty chill days in a beautiful spot on Planet Earth.  I’m stoked to have a good crew onboard, to have people to dive with, cook and eat with.  We’re having the occasional movie night, complete with Chels’ favorite – cheddar popcorn.

Most importantly though – the crew loves the water.  In fact, we’ve been diving so much that we’ve worn ourselves out.

Hunting in Pairs

Even cooler than that though, is that we keep meeting people that love to dive.  And those people have been showing us their dive spots.  Sidebar:  for what it’s worth, I NEVER share dive/fishing spots.  Never.  Ever.  Period.  It’s the only way to earn fisherman/diver’s trust enough for them to share their prized spots with me.  And we always respect the spots shared – never overharvesting, and (when possible) sharing the catch with the folks who showed us the spot.

Those practices led Mike to show us his favorite fishing hole the other day, complete with a speedo-escort.  At one point Mike, who’s always working to make us laugh (or mildly offend us) – gave us a really nice view of his bare white ass on the way to the dive spot.  We tried to get a picture of it, but Damo was so excited he fumbled with the camera and we missed it.

There wasn’t much home at Mike’s favorite spot – but that’s fine.  We just appreciated him showing it to us.  There’s rumored to be a massive grouper there, and after Mike bounced a spear off of it’s face – he made us promise to not take it.  The good news is we didn’t even have to face the temptation, as it never showed itself.

The Descent

Best Laid Plans

The original plan was to head through San Blas to Cartagena.  Now it looks like we might just spend some time in San Blas – then sail back to Puerto Lindo.  There are a myriad of reasons, but my crew isn’t as stoked on Cartagena or the passage right now.  And we have some pretty awesome friends in Puerto Lindo now.  And I need to iron out some boat issues. That said, I’ve been fighting to get boat work done in Puerto Lindo for so long now that I’m sick of it.  Cartagena would be much more conducive to boat-projects.  Decisions, decisions.

There’s also this nagging feeling that I’ll be pushing it to be ready to cross the Pacific next year.  Almost without fail, every cruiser has told me to slow down – learn my boat and spend more time sailing on this side of the canal.  And I’d be alright with that – but I know that I want to be in the Pacific.  The Pacific is just so much more fishy.  I get pretty tired of diving hard to shoot tiny fish.  It’s just not as fun.

Finally, there have been some personal issues at home that I need to get fixed.  Which means I may, again, be headed back to the States.  I can honestly say I’m not looking forward to it at all.  Leaving the boat is stressful, and it’s so much damn work and money blown.  Some stuff does need to get ironed out though, and it’s important stuff.  So at some point in the relatively near future, I’m back in Texas.  Again.

My First Charter

Chilling in San Blas

The last few days have been a combination of some pretty big highs and a couple of big lows. A ton of firsts, some wins, and some losses. As far as the trip goes – things are great, besides being pretty low on freshwater. Nothing insurmountable, but my watermaker isn’t putting out nearly as much as it should. On the other hand – personally, there were some things that blew up back home that took a toll on me.  One thing in particular literally laid me up for a couple of days.  There’s are all kinds of entry fees to this kind of thing, many of them are personal.

Chilling In San Blas

We were going to leave Chichime early the next morning, but we decided to tackle some boat maintenance. So we did, for a couple hours. But that left us drenched in sweat – so we jumped in. That led to a little freediving. Which led to us finding a lobster hole (our first in San Blas).

Here’s Damien and I trying to get the lobster out. We were successful in getting two, but let one go as it was tiny.

Lobster Diving in Chichime

 

Spider Crab

 

We made it out to another nearby island and found a decent spot to anchor, right next to the island. We’re lucky – as we could pull right up, having a shallow draft. We headed to the island to burn our trash and met a South African guy named Mike. His first words were to Damien: “Do you shave your tits?” I was dying inside, but held it together. Long story short – Mike became a friend as we learned he was a spearfisherman.

That night we had a pork feast on my new BBQ grill. Epic. We’ve used that grill almost every night now.

 

Moving On

 

The next day I was battling a failing house battery bank, a watermaker that wasn’t producing enough water, and to compound things – my generator was overheating and there wasn’t enough sun for my solar power to kick in. Eventually I decided not to stress, and did something I’d been threatening to do for a week: mount my new Yamaha 15HP outboard on my dinghy. I was so, so happy to be rid of that damned Mercury.

Well, I went out for a little test run, and I can tell you – I love the Yamaha 15HP. Mike (our new South African friend) has his from 1998 – still in perfect condition.  The problem is that everyone else loves the Yamaha, too. On a scale of 1 to “you better lock your dinghy up every night” – the Yamaha 15 is one that will be locked up. The old Mercury would have almost been a blessing to have stolen. Hell, I might just use it as an anchor. Though it would be more satisfying to shoot it first, then sink it.

Later that day Mike gave up one of his fishing holes. And though we didn’t do anything remarkable, we did manage to get dinner. Mixed bag, and there’s no ciguatera here – so we can eat anything we shoot. Lionfish have become a fairly consistent part of our (gourmet) meals (thanks to Damien, who’s a trained chef).  We took a Nassau Grouper, a Barracuda, a Grey Snapper, and two Lionfish.

Lionfish Dinner

 

You’ve gotta be damned careful carving up those Lionfish.  They’re delicious, easy to shoot, and invasive (so you’re doing the reef a favor by killing them) – but if you get stung, you’re in for a painful ride.  I found that out.  Luckily the fish had taken some stainless steel through the brain about 30 minutes before – so the poison wasn’t full-bore.  It stung like Hell, but was gone in less than an hour.

Lionfish Spine Snipping

Since we were in Mike’s fishing hole – we invited him and his wife over. Great company, good food, good conversation.  If you read this Mike – we’ll see you again buddy, great making your acquaintance and sorry it seems like we keep running in and out of your awesome little spot.

That same night I had a friend ask me if I would take over a small charter for him, as he was indisposed. Originally I wasn’t very excited about it. But I could use the money, so after talking with my crew I decided it was possible. That night it was confirmed – I’d have a German couple onboard in two days and they’d stay 5.

Which meant we needed to resupply. Which meant we needed to head to port. Which also meant my water supply issue became more relevant.

We went to sleep that night, planning to leave early the next morning.

Chilling in San Blas

San Blas (Yet Again)

The last week or so has been full of boat projects and troubleshooting.  I’ve been under a little (self-induced) pressure to get out of Puerto Lindo, and to San Blas – for obvious reasons.  Rather than the traditional (wordy) post – here’s a picture-post.  Now that there are other folks onboard, I can finally work on getting more pictures.

Here’s my new stackpack install.

New stackpack install

And here’s part of the party held on my boat without me (previous post).  You’re welcome Dave.

 

My boat party without me

Yesterday we sailed out of Puerto Lindo.  I was ecstatic.

Sailing out of Puerto Lindo

 

We had some trouble with a belt, then changing said troublesome belt became problematic.  Problem was resolved, we were back on track.  This is what voyaging via sailboat often looks like – sweating and filthy from crawling around in the engine room.

The “engine work” look

 

Then, after I’d sweated gallons in the engine room – the sun hid and we bumped into a little offshore storm.  Nothing crazy, but we went from 0 knots of wind to 25 in seconds.  We (and S/V NOMAD) got a bath, and we were sailing very quickly – despite being fully loaded with extra diesel, extra gasoline, full watertanks (plus extra water), three people, and 4 weeks of rations (and then some).  For as heavy as we were, I’m surprised we made it above 4 knots – but we did 8 knots for a while.

Here’s the storm, right before it hit us.

Wind and rain offshore

And here’s me raising sails as the storm hits us.You can see the bright sunlight we sailed through in the background.  It went from hot to cold, from 0 knots to 25 (plus) – in seconds. Awesome.  This is a new favorite pic of mine – the clouds are phenomenal.

Sails up in the storm

 

We made it to San Blas about 5PM.  I wasn’t comfortable risking anchoring in the dark, so we did the easy thing – and dropped the hook in Chichime.  We actually scored a pretty epic spot here and stayed hooked on our first drop.  There’s a video from the anchorage in my Instagram feed.

This morning we woke up, drank coffee slowly, and discussed our “plans” for the day.  Originally it was an early dive and then some boat maintenance.  While having that discussion, we were visited by the local Kuna and bought a couple of coconuts from him – which he promptly opened and cleaned for us.  We had a 1/2 gallon of coconut water and three coconuts – along with some corned beef hash for breakfast.  We’re spoiled.

Coconut water / meat operations

The dive was far more eventful than I thought it would be.  I saw 3 decent Black Grouper, several large Dog Snapper, and a nice Yellowtail Snapper (my favorite, which came home with me).  I will admit that there may, in fact, be decent spearfishing in San Blas.

There were a couple of small reef sharks, and 3 or 4 nurse sharks.  One was massive, maybe 8 or 9 feet?  It kept surprising me by managing to squeeze in really close when the surf was breaking over me.  Sneaky. 

Then we made it back to the boat and found out that the sharks had stolen some of Damien’s fish.  He was bummed, but the good news was Chelsea found two little octopus.  She marked the holes, so we found them and began the process of trying to pull them out of the hole.

Octo dinner

Me getting that octo dinner

We managed one out of the two octos (tako, if you prefer). That was enough, so we headed back.  Once back, Damien cleaned the octo.  Then while I was cleaning the snapper for Japanese-style ceviche (secret recipe) – Damien pressure-cooked the octo for some really amazing octo-sushi.  Delish.

Damien getting excited about octo

While all that was happening, Chelsea went diving for a starfish and I threw out a line with some octo-leftovers.  It only took a couple of minutes and we pulled in a decent Yellow Jack.  In just a morning, we had more fish than we could eat.  Which is a great problem to have.

The starfish hunter

 

Yellow Jack for dinner!!

So – I’m back in San Blas and we’re having fun.  Finally.  I really don’t enjoy boat maintenance – so it’s nice to have some payoff for what was a long week of repairs/maintenance.  We do still have some boat projects – but we’re beat from diving and I had a glass of wine with lunch.  So we might put that stuff off ’till manana.

The office

I guess even I’m susceptible to manana-time, in San Blas.

San Blas (Yet Again)

A Long Story

It’s been really tough to get connections over the last few days.  The details are boring, but suffice it to say that I’ve been completely incommunicado and it’s been out of my control.  And I’ve been running around Panama City.  And my damn computer is on the fritz.  And I’ve discovered my boat was broken into.  So, I have more than one excuse for the delay in posting.

 

Thieving Bastards

I hate thieves.  Not just because when I needed my spearguns, I found out they’d been stolen.  Also because it invariably keeps me angry for a while.  I lost sleep thinking about all the ways I could have prevented the theft.

Bottom line:  like every other human who has something stolen from them;  I’m unhappy about it.  

Before I left Panama, I had an amazing sponsor – Rob Allen – send me a ton of very high-quality spearfishing gear.  Of course, I couldn’t try it out as I had a pretty nasty infection on my middle finger.  

So when I got back, with a semi-healed finger – I was itching to get into the water with the new gear.  Alex and I had been working on our boats – helping each other out.  So when I finally had a few hours that weren’t swamped with dinners, drinks, and boat maintenance (tough life, right?) – we decided to go get some fish for dinner. 

Long story short – I found out my spearguns had been stolen.  Then I found they’d taken my dive lights too.  Most of it is my fault for not having it all secured better – but it’s not a whole lot of fun.  Moving on.

So Many Activities!

I’m going to avoid listing the stuff we’ve done over the last few days – but there’s been a ton.  I literally don’t have a spare minute, it seems.  Before I left, I was sure there would be tons of downtime.  Not yet.  I wanted to learn to play guitar – no time.  I wanted to read all of the deep/heavy stuff I’ve put off, no time.  I wanted to play with options a bit more, no time.  The good news is that I’ve found time to do some of the things I like to do though – we’ve been diving, kayaking, playing with monkeys, and (most importantly) making new friends and spending time with them.

Here’s Alex trying to handle a lionfish without getting stung.  If you didn’t know it, lionfish are an invasive species that really destroy the reef – they’re also tasty.  So, if you use a little bit of care – you can spear them, eat them, and do the reef a favor.

Handling lionfish

Cruising friends are cool – they’re all really unique people, doing unique things, on unique boats.  And they’re typically very helpful.  And there’s something about spending time with people when you know there’s an end to it – we will all sail off and may never see each other again afterward.  So it’s been fun and interesting.

More Boat Maintenance

It amazes me how much time, energy, and expense is tied up in boat maintenance.  It’s completely mind-boggling. The good news is I’m learning my boat – inside and out.  Here are the projects we have undertaken:

• Boat bottom cleaning


• Rewiring tons of stuff


• Installing more fans


• Massive amounts of cleaning


• Installing electric fuel pumps


• Changing rope clutches


• Tracing an air leak in my fuel lines


• Installing a BBQ grill


• Installing some new standing rigging (some was in need of repair)


• Getting a new stack-pack


• Getting and installing a new dinghy engine

The list goes on.  And on.  And on.  I’ve gotten comfortable doing much of my own maintenance and install projects.  That’s huge, and I feel pretty good about it.

In the engine room…

The real bummer is how expensive all of this is.  Even though I’d been pretty generous in my refit budget, I’m straining it.  But getting your home/vehicle/passion-project right is a big deal, so we’re working pretty hard to get things right.  And since we’re on the subject – I’ve picked up another crew member:  Damien.

More Crew

Having crew onboard is, right now, a good decision.  I don’t know how I’ll feel about it later – but so far they’ve been awesome.  Chelsea gets a little OCD on the cleaning, which is perfect.  Damien is a good diver, a great cook, and can hold a wrench.  Uh-mazing combo with the three of us onboard, me thinks.  And it’s alot of fun with three people.  That said, I have found less time to read and do other stuff as I’m spending more time socializing and on boat work.

Maybe that’s a good thing though.

Monkey Business

I’ve avoided going to see the local Spider Monkeys here for some reason.  Honestly, I don’t know why.  But with Chelsea onboard, it’s hard to not play the part of tour guide.  So we headed over to the island (25 meters off my bow) and went in search of the local monkeys.

Monkey business

The monkeys are said to be semi-docile, but there are plenty of stories about them biting people.  The local lore surrounding these monkeys is silly;  these monkeys have tried to steal children, they’ve bitten huge pieces out of people, they’re very aggressive when food is involved, and they’re generally best approached in a dinghy.

I decided that was bullshit.  As most of the fear-mongering stuff I’ve heard/read is.  So we went to the island, found the monkeys and though we tried to keep our distance – we quickly found ourselves in a very intimate space with these amazing primates.  So far I’ve been right – they’ve just been awesome. 

The female of the group has taken a liking to me.  She follows me out to the very edge of the jungle (over the water) and chatters at me until I scratch her.  Amazing.

More monkey business

 

Back to San Blas

Since I’ve been here, we’ve had some new additions to the marina.  The usual crew of scoundrels actually got together last night for a little party on my boat.  I was supposed to be there, as it was my “going away” party – because we’re heading to San Blas.  Of course, I got stuck in Panama City on a run for my new dinghy engine.  As scoundrels do, they had my going away party on my boat without me.  They took some pictures of them all on my boat, without me.  They thought that was especially funny.

Another young couple on a Lagoon catamaran is in the anchorage.  Greg and his g/f Kaycee on Oceanna (http://oceannatheboat.com/). They’re a bunch of fun.  Greg dives, spearfishes, and surfs.  Kaycee keeps Greg in line, and occasionally she goes wakeboarding in the anchorage behind their dinghy.  That’s a fun thing to watch.  I’m stopping by their catamaran tonight to get some coordinates for epic dive spots in San Blas.  Fingers crossed.

The big news is that it’s time to head back to San Blas.  I’m dying to be back in the water daily.  I’m ready to only worry about how I’m diving, where I’m kayaking to, or what we’re going to have for dinner.  I think I’ve earned it over the last few days.  I’ve been working steadily, dusk to dawn to get things ready for a nice long trip through San Blas to Cartagena.  And I’m almost there.  So close!

So, if all goes well – my next post will be from San Blas.  I’m so stoked.

 

A Long Story

Who Likes Airports?

Nobody.  That’s the right answer.  If you like the airport, I hope it’s because of the fact you’re leaving one place and arriving in a better place.

If you like the TSA, baggage fees, lines, and expensive food and drinks, though, you should try airports.  Myself, I prefer my catamaran- where there aren’t lines of people waiting to do inane things, where I wake up in peace, and I have complete freedom to do as I chose.

Who Likes Airports?

So the airport was stupid. They insisted that I needed a return flight, despite showing them my boat paperwork and trying to explain that I’d be sailing out of Panama.  They couldn’t grasp the idea of leaving the country via sailboat.  So I bought a refundable flight home, to ease their conscience.  Naturally, I canceled the flight as soon as I landed in Panama – but at least the rule-makers were happy.

Honestly though, the worst part was fighting with the baggage.  I had a couple of fishing poles, and enough boat parts to outfit a small armada.  Here’s me trying to convince the agents at United that I had a sailing yacht in Panama that I was leaving Panama on/in.  I have all of my boat paperwork in Dropbox, on my iPad.  That makes it remarkably convenient, but the United Airline agents weren’t convinced. Silly folks.

But I made it.

When I got back into Panama I had trouble finding my bags. But I found them, and though they weren’t in one piece – the contents were all there, unharmed.

A quick shuttle ride to the hotel, a couple of Balboa’s at the hotel bar, and I was golden.  Without practice, my (already) broken Spanish was suffering – but I could order a beer, ask where the bathrooms were, and ask how much things cost.   That’s winning in Central/South America for this gringo.

The really great news was that my new buddy Alex (www.projectbluesphere.com) was picking me up in my POS SUV.  And he did so admirably.  After cramming my stuff in the SUV, we set off to find my first official crew member onboard S/V NOMAD:  Chelsea.

She’s an Aussie surfer, ex-marine mammal trainer (at Seaworld Austrailia), and yes – she’s seen Blackfish.

Anyways.  We packed her stuff in the SUV, made a couple of food/provisioning stops, and finally made it back to Puerto Lindo. I

It felt good.

The trip back to the States was great – but it’s becoming increasingly obvious that my life is with my boat.  It’s definitely a love affair, despite the seemingly uphill battle with learning and boat maintenance.  The truth is that almost everyday I wake up in paradise.  The spearfishing could be better, but there are certainly worse problems – like being stuck in a cubicle (or even a corner office).

Who Likes Airports?