I’ve been in prison!

My cell block comes with a view.

Here I am doing time with hard labor in Chaguaramas prison… Well it may not look like prison, but it certainly feels like it!

It’s  hot here… much too hot. I’ve never been anywhere where I’ve suffered the heat as much as in the yards of Chaguaramas, and that includes the deserts of Egypt and Australia.

Not the slightest hint of a breeze. The sultry air saps your strength so that just walking between the yards and the chandlers is exhausting, and here I am hoping to carry out maintenance work on Eileen of Avoca. Absurd isn’t it?

Another dawn in sultry Trinidad

The smart people leave their boat with a to-do list for the yard and fly back home until the end of the hurricane season.

The not so smart (smart here being a synonym for wealthy), live aboard, hire an air conditioner, and deal with their own to-do list before the end of the hurricane season.

Then there’s me….

Eileen of Avoca entering the stocks in Trinidad

I don’t even have a fan on board, I think someone’s dog ate my to-do list, and I’ve apparently confused hurricane season with leopard hunting season… 🙂

Unfortunately Trinidad is under a declared state of emergency.

What does this mean for wandering yachtsmen? It means that after you’ve labored all day in the stifling heat you get to stay in your boat all night to enjoy more of that stifling heat, plus a swarm of mosquitoes and cockroaches as a bonus. Did I mention the stifling heat?

It’s lock down by 11pm or a 5000 US dollar fine and possible imprisonment if you’re caught wandering about at night.

To top it off, sailors are falling ill with dengue fever by the dozen, and there is at least one death a month through yard accidents…. Will I survive the hazards of boat maintenance in Trinidad?

Well, here is what I’ve been busy with during the day…

I've removed the propeller shaft and rudder

and…

Replaced the old stuffing box with this...

and…

Machined a new rudder pin and cutlass bearing...

and…

Bolted it all back together...

voila!

Now I just need to give Eileen a new coat of anti-fouling

And this is what I’ve been doing at night.

Nightlife in Trinidad

If anyone is reading this, please post bail and get me out of here….

Perhaps I should have done a little more research, because Chaguaramas is:

  • Uncomfortable…. NOTE: Understatement of the century…
  • Expensive! Watch out for poor quality work…
  • Bureaucratic to say the least. BTW, should customs officers really be hinting at extra storage fees, overtime, and travel expenses when clearing goods?
  • No longer tax free, unless you are willing to wait months for your ordered “yacht in transit” goods. Items stocked by chandlers incur VAT.

Moreover, Trinidad in general:

  • Is rather dangerous and currently under curfew to curb crime… (may it only briefly remain so). But if the street gangs don’t get you, perhaps the dengue will…
  • Is not in the least bit tourist friendly… I’ve been accosted in the street just for taking mundane holiday snapshots. The only other place this has ever happened to me was in Suriname.
  • Is almost clueless when it comes to “customer service”. Fortunately there are occasional exceptions (so perhaps there is still some hope)…
  • Doesn’t have any leopards… (so much for that glimmer of hope)…

Does Trinidad have at least one saving grace?

Might things be looking better after all?

Or perhaps two?

I appear to have my hands full....

Nah, they never did call me back after my phone was stolen… 🙁

Final verdict on Trinidad and Tobago?

Get me back in the water a.s.a.p.

I liked it so much that I’ve decided to give up on the Caribbean and sail back to South America for Christmas. I suspect that the lure of the leopards and continued PBBS are to blame.

Crossing the Bay of Biscay in a small boat

General weather situation for Bay of Biscay crossing

Crossing Biscay wasn’t something I was willing to take on without careful preparation. I spent hours sifting through my pilot books studying approaches to suitable bolt-holes and checking the tides for destinations as varied as Audierne to the north and La Rochelle to the northeast.

The prevailing weather conditions (winds with a northerly aspect and corresponding swell), would not make the passage trivial, and given the frequency of storms, it is not surprising that it took a week of sheltering in Gijon before a suitable three day weather window presented itself.

Gijon was my chosen jump-off point because it shortened my crossing by at least 24hrs (compared with La Coruna), and maximized options for changing my destination on route.

As a large high pressure system approached Biscay offering north westerly winds and settled conditions (see weather-fax) I committed Eileen of Avoca to the crossing.

The idea was to head north as quickly as possible and try to stay ahead of the high pressure system’s center. I was only partly successful.

After a marvelous 24hr run in steady Force 4 winds, covering more than 100NM under sail alone, I stalled in light variable winds. Apparently it was not fast or far enough to outrun the high. The next two days were spent motor sailing, maintaining 4 to 4.5kts, a speed necessary to avoid being caught by the cold front strengthening in the Atlantic.

That’s the official line. I’d like to embellish it further and add volumes on the discomforts endured and how only fine seamanship and the luck of the Irish (I’m figuring that Eileen of Avoca qualifies for this), saved us from a certain doom as we fought a savage sea against a lee shore. But I’ll save that version for my retirement.

The unofficial version (for your eyes only) goes something like this:

I spent hours pouring over my pilot books because there is nothing else in the way of reading material on Eileen, and I stayed in Gijon a week because I didn’t want to be rained upon on route.

The approaching high pressure system equated to an inconsequential swell,which suits me fine because I can keep my food down better when I’m not being violently shaken about.

Swallow visiting Eileen for the night

My marvelous run was spent deciding what to eat next (at sardine sandwich o’clock or half past cold roast chicken), and dozing, because heading directly north from Gijon allows you to miss most of the shipping traffic (my radar detector bleeped only once).

All I had to do was stay on the boat and amuse myself while Eileen did the rest. Hardly an epic journey.

Apart from a surreal “Hitchcock birds” moment or two as increasing numbers of exhausted swallows noisily settled both on and in Eileen each night (in the most unlikely of places), it was delightfully uneventful. Dull is always good when sailing.

As soon as I see the first item in NAVTEXT transmissions taken on route stating “No Warning”, I know I can relax into my semi-catatonic solo passage making stupor. Here is one that almost threatens to be moderately interesting with its mention of fog and rain, but upon closer examination doesn’t quite manage it:

ZCZC AE81

181200 UTC MAY 10

BAY OF BISCAY BULLETIN (METAREA 2)

METEO-FRANCE

TUE 18 MAY 2010 AT 09 UTC.

WIND IN BEAUFORT

1 : NO WARNING

2 : GENERAL SYNOPSIS, TUE 18 AT 00 UTC

LOW 983 48N45W, MOV SE, EXP 995 47N40W BY 19/00 UTC THEN 998 49N35W

BY 19/12UTC. ASSOCIATED DISTURBANCE OVER E FARADAY, ALTAIR, NW

ACORES AND W ROMEO. HIGH AREA 1030-1032 FM NE IRVING TO BRITANNY ,

WKN IN S, EXP 1033 IN BAY OF BISCAY BY 19/12UTC. LOW 1013 OVER

MORROCCO WITH LITTLE CHANGE.

3 : FCST TO WED 19 AT 12 UTC

IROISE, YEU :

N OR NW 2 TO 4, BECMG VRB OR NE 1 TO 3 LATER. SLGT OR MOD. RAIN

AT FIRST IN N. MOD.

ROCHEBONNE :

MAINLY N 2 OR 3 , TEMPO NW 4 IN E SOON, VEER NE LATER. SLGT OR

MOD. MOD.

CANTABRICO :

MAINLY N 2 TO 4 IN E, BUT E 3 OR 4 IN W. SLGT OR MOD.

FINISTERRE :

NE 4 TO 6. MOD. LOC MOD.

PAZENN :

IN NW: SW 4 OR 5, OCNL 6 AT FIRST, DECR 3 OR 4 LATER. ELSEWHERE :

VRB CLOCKWISE 2 OR 3. MOD. RAIN IN N AT FIRST. FOG PATCHES.

4 : TEND FOR NEXT 24 H

NO GALE EXP.

NNNN

Aveiro to the port of Leixoes

The northern breakwater at Aveiro, Portugal

Weighing anchor at 8:00, I motored with the ebb past Aveiro’s breakwater with its dangerous (in heavy seas) and turbulent washing machine like entrance, heading for the 20m depth contour in search of calmer conditions.

As I ambled north in peaceful contemplation, a loud buzzing interrupted my daydreaming. I just had time to sit up and look about when a red rigid inflatable whizzed past (withing a few meters) Eileen’s stern, at what can only be described as tremendous speed.

It was the rescue RIB from Aveiro.

I waved to it’s two helmeted crew as they bounced along like rag dolls. They waved back (quite a feat when you think about it), and then sped off to continue their bone jarring ride elsewhere. It all happened so fast, I didn’t even have time to take out my camera for a blog snapshot. 🙁

Metro, Porto

Oh, and despite my best efforts (getting up at 7am for starters), to beat my new 3-day-friend’s boat to the next port (Leixoes), I was overtaken with just five miles to go. Drat! I must be the slowest yacht in Portugal.

The port of Leixoes was a convenient stopover for my whirlwind tour of Porto. I caught the fancy new metro to town, took the compulsory tourist photos of random buildings, bought a bottle of Porto and an amusing souvenir, then raced back to get some sleep.

What more should I have done in Porto?

Villamoura to Lagos

Surfing into port Lagos

It is approximately 30NM from Villamoura to Lagos, and I completed the leg in less than 6 hours. Winds from the east and a following sea had me sailing at a respectable 5kts and this with only the jib and a reefed mainsail set!

As the day progressed, the southeasterly swell (caused by gales in the strait of Gibraltar) intensified, and by the time I reached the relatively narrow entrance to Lagos I confess to having entertained thoughts of seeking landfall elsewhere.

Eileen of Avoca was already surfing down the faces of some of the larger sets and the sound of crashing waves against the rocky coastline west of the entrance did little to assay my growing anxiety.

At least I was not alone. Another sailing yacht followed me closely, and if I had not happened upon a brief lull between sets of larger waves, (precipitating my attempt to run to safety), I might have come about and let them try first. I’d already rationalized to myself that it would be the gentlemanly thing to do. 😉

At this point, I had the motor running at close to full throttle. With sails furled, fenders out and heart pounding, I raced for the entrance while the other yacht hesitated.

“No worries, a fine run… now let’s see if you can do the same….” flashed through my thoughts as I turned to watch the fate of my fellow sailors.

Even stray dogs appreciate the art in Lagos

With Cape Vincent as my next challenge, I decided to rest up for a while, purchase provisions and wait for fine weather. Lagos has much to offer visitors and I thoroughly enjoyed my habitual aimless perambulations about town. Now if only I could speak a little Portuguese!

A farraginous collection of thoughts while traveling through the Belgian and French canals

canal crew

canal crew

Having had very little experience with traveling though canals and locks, it was with considerable trepidation that I first entered the Belgian canal system at Nieuwpoort.

Reading several guidebooks did little to instill a sense of confidence. In fact it had just the opposite effect. I am now convinced that good “lockmanship”  is not something that can be attained through theoretical study.

Judging by the number of bruised pleasure craft making their way through the inland waterways (and I confess to having had my share of bumps), passing “applied locks 101” is no trivial matter.

Belgium provides a forgiving environment for the inexperienced because relatively few locks partition a days cruise. Moreover, help is always close at hand if things go “pear-shaped” because every lock has an operator.

This proved to be an ideal training ground. The experience fortified me for what was to come in the French waterways, where I traversed as many as 32 locks (near Epinal) in a single day.

Turnhout

Turnhout

My route took me through Bruge, Gent, and the outskirts of Antwerp, Turnhout (my registered home port), Hasselt, Liege, Namur and Dinant before reaching France.

There are no official entries in my journal because my original detailed log now resides on a deceased hard drive that despite heroic efforts, has resisted all attempts at resuscitation.

I could still use a professional recovery service but at this point I just can’t justify the expense.