January 12, 2006

VKV Home From the Sea

Chickadees Ships Log: Leg 72 December 27th 2005-January 8th 2006 El Salvador to Nicaragua

 Chickadee aimed for open water...

There was a bit of wind blowing on the outside. I was able to hoist full sail and skip down the coast. I set a course for San Juan Del Sur. After a few honorable miles, the wind died altogether. It was 22:00 hrs in the evening of Dec 27, 2005. I wanted to keep Chickadee moving so I flashed up Bessy (Suzuki 9.9)and motored for the next 20 hours.

The wind during the first part of the passage was light to nil, two days and less than 100 miles covered. Slow going but the sea was calm and peaceful and I felt alleviated to be back under way after over 2.5 years shore side.

My destination on this leg is San Juan Del Sur, Nicaragua ( an eventually Panama) but since the wind out of El Salvador has been so light, I headed to Marina Puesta Del Sol, at the north end of Nicaragua to refuel Bessy ($3.50 a US gallon). It was also a good opportunity to wash up and tidy the boat after the rush out of El Salvador.

Crossing the bar into Marina Puesta Del Sol, Nicaragua’s first northern entry port, was softer than golden pond. No swell action at all. Flat! This is not the case during the rainy season months. However we are at the start of dry season and for the most part the surf and swell along the whole coast of Central America is at its tamest. I only spend 24 hours at Puesta Del Sol. The marina is pleasant enough and if I had the budget, I would be most comfortable hanging out there for a few more days doing some writing and boat projects. Nice to be tied to a dock with electricity, fresh drinking water and wifi internet. The restaurant serves real food too, though pricey. I topped up Chickadee's water tanks with fresh drinkable water, fueled up 3 five gallon jerry jugs of gas for the outboard and headed back out to into the deep blue.

I should have kept one foot on the beach, as I usually do, but the chart atlas I was using; (Mexico to Panama) is not conductive to coastal piloting the heart of Central America. The charts I typically use to navigate this coast are rolled up and sitting at a friends in Dana Point, CA.

All said and done, my New Year’s Eve was spent at sea clawing to windward, inch by bloody inch during the peak of a "papagayo" gale. I was blown 40 miles off course further out to sea and could not make San Juan Del Sur before the 1st of January.

Under pressure, the lower 3/8 SS shroud shackle blew apart in the early morning hours of Dec. 31st 2005. What would have taken 10 minutes to fix on land, took 3 hours in the darkness of night on a pitching deck cascading with breaking seas.

The wind was blowing a sustained 30+ knots on the bow and the only course I could maintain was 150 degrees magnetic which would put me on a rhumb line for the Galapagos Islands, 1200 miles south. I was only provisioned for maybe two weeks at the most.

 I was some where off the coast of central Nicaragua.

The GPS I was borrowing went defunct and would not boot up. I keep an accurate log but now without a working GPS, could no longer get a position. I knew of course, I was some where off the coast of central Nicaragua, but exactly where? I headed due east for 12 hours until I could pick out a sign of land. Little lights on the horizon like fire flies in the night. I honed in on them. I did finally manage to close the coast before midnight New Years Eve, landing in the dark at 11’ 45.63 N and 86’ 31.43 W. I dropped the anchor in 30 feet, sand, good holding, had a shot of rum and collapsed.

14 hours of sleep later, I awoke rested on the morning of January 1st 2006 in the calm of what appeared to be a shallow bay. Where, I did not know, but I did know I live to fight another day. Ask me in 20 years where I was on New Years Eve 2005 and I will tell you to a T! A day in my life I shall never forget!

A panga with three fisherman motored over to say hello. They seemed as surprise to see a sail boat at anchor in their waters as I was at being anchored in their waters. Turns out Chickadee dropped the hook in Pochomil, which is one bay south of Masachapa. If I had made the coast one mile north at Masachapa, the story may have turned out rather different. A line of surf and breakers stream the coast in front of Masachapa. Only pangas with local knowledge can navigate the break at Masachapa. I got lucky and ended up in Pochomil.

My plan now is to coastal hop all the way to San Juan Del Sur to reduce the fatigue factor and avoid getting caught too far offshore again with these relentless papagayo winds.

I was going to try to make it to Astillero, but it took me 5 hours just to cover 8 miles. I laid a course for La Boquita with 35 knots smack on the schnauze. By 13:15 hrs Chickadee arrived in the rolly exposed anchorage of La Boquita. There was no way I could make Astillero before sunset so I opted to drop the 22 lb Bruce in 18 feet of water far off the beach in La Boquita. There was a great deal of New Years day activity ashore. The beach was covered with thousands of Nicaraguan vacationers frolicking in the waves.

Through my binoculars I could see thatched palapas lining the coast at the northwest end where most of the activity seemed to be happening. A rocky cliff side bluff with large homes made up the central region of the anchorage. I could see surf breaking on shore in most places with a reduction near the beach area.

After getting the hook down, I acquired a depth with the lead line and was dismayed to find only 15 feet of water below the keel. This was reason to give concern in the event I had anchored within a surf line which could take place at the change of tide. A panga was motoring on near by so I waved them over for a second option.

Four scraggly red eyed looking characters came along side and banged carelessly into Chickadee adding a new scar to the collection. I told the one fisherman at the bow to fend off so as not to damage his panga against Chickadee figuring they would be more concerned about their boat than mine. I was right.

I asked the motley bunch if I was anchored in safe waters. “Si hombre, ninguna problema, hay suficiente aqua aqui”. (No problem man, there’s lots of water here.) The helmsman had an anxious look in his beady eyes. The motor at the back of the panga was a large old gas guzzling 45 hp outboard Merc. It had a ragged T-shirt pulled over the motor to protect it from the sun, or maybe to hide its identity?

A rubber fuel line ran from the motor to a 3 gallon gas sitting in the bilge. It looked very empty. I knew what they were thinking when they started to eye up the jerry jugs of gasoline aboard Chickadee. Quickly before the fishermen could get another word out, I said” Hey can you sell me some fuel? I am low on gas and need to get to San Juan Del Sur. Or is there a gasolinera in town?” I queried knowing full well they didn’t have two drops of gas in the tank and there wasn’t a gas station along the coast for 50 miles.

The scruff at the helm said “no hombre, we don’t have gas. We were going to ask you if you can give us a gallon. Senor, you give us a gallon and some money and we will go ashore and find you some gasoline…yes we do that for you senor”.

Yeah sure…! I thought.

Their panga banged against Chickadee again. I told them thanks, but I don’t have fuel to spare and I plan to depart soon. I’ll make it to Astillero. They can cask off now. The one bloke in the middle of the panga put a hand on the full 5 gallon jerry jug I had lashed down on Chickadee’s aft deck. He said what’s this? “Gas” I told him, but it’s all I have to get me to Astillero, which was true. Fact is I didn’t have a drop to spare. As it turns out in the end, I arrived in San Juan Del Sur with less than 2 gallons left in total. I knew I would need every drop of fuel to motor head into the wind as soon as I got around the corner into Bahia San Juan. And sure thing, I did need every fume.

The fisherman drifted off bitterly. I sensed they were discouraged at not scoring any gas from the gringo’s sailboat. With what little fuel they had, they flashed up their outboard and motored through the surf on the beach a few hundred yards eastward.

I thought for a while about what they said about anchoring where I was, and decided not to take their word. Not because I did not trust their opinion, more to the fact that they base their judgment from maneuvering 20 ft pangas with big motors and 10 inches of draft, unlike heavy displacement offshore sailboats with 6 feet of draft.

I checked the tide on my laptop to find that at low tide there would be only 10 feet below Chickadee’s keel. A swell was already rolling into the bay and I could not risk being anchored in such shallow water. I raised the hook and motored further out in search of 30 feet.

I went out at least another 500 yards west but could only sound 25 feet. La Boquita is a shallow bay. At that point, the bottom felt rocky but at least I would be beyond any breaking surf when the tide started to ebb. Down went the 22 lb Bruce again. I let out 120 feet of chain and Chickadee came around into the wind with the anchor biting hard.

Once the anchor was set, I had a fair amount of ship board duties to tend to before night fall. I topped up Bessy with fuel and oil, check the spark plugs, tuned up the rig, adjusted the shrouds, changed cotter pins, furled unused sails, coiled lines and updated my log book. I went about making dinner (spaghetti again) and pondered my next course outline.

The plan is to wake up 1 hour before sunrise and set off for Astillero, 15 miles south. I could trust my compass to guide me around the south western rocky point of La Boquita bay. I would motor sail on a course of 130’ towards Astillero before the strongest morning winds begin to blow.

Both Magellan’s; the GPS 300 and GPS 2000 had failed me. My friend loaned me the GPS 300 and it was indeed working fine earlier in the voyage. But now gave up the ghost. I sold/traded the 2000 to Malcolm an ole salt in San Juan, a few years ago as part payment for a 20 year old Avon inflatable. Well about a year ago, before Malcolm went back to the USA, he resold me back the same GPS. It was acting funky then. Some times it would power up, sometimes it would not. Over the ages, I’ve smacked it, whacked it, changed the batteries, cleaned the contacts but for nothing would it turn on.

I am dismayed at having to DR (dead-reckon)down the coast. I opened up the nav table and looked at the GPS 2000 and “wished” it to work. Out loud I said under my breath, “Gosh I wish this thing would work”. I grabbed some AA batteries out of a flash light and popped them into the back of the 2000 and hit the turn on button. Loe and behold to my wildest surprise the LCD lights came on and the unit, dormant for over a year booted up like new. I can’t believe my luck!

I had to initialize the GPS which only took a few minutes. After getting a fix on La Boquita I put the prize away in its place under the nav station. I went up on deck to catch a last glimpse of La Boquita and take a few pictures before a setting sun. A mighty translucent rainbow arched across Chickadee’s bow north to south. Less than 30 minutes later night fall set in and the sky began to fill with the stars of a trillion constellations. The swell in the shallow bay settled down enough for me to flash up the DVD on my laptop and watch “The Hitch Hikers Guide to the Galaxy”.

My alarm was set for 04:00 am. After watching the movie, I grabbed 2 hours sleep and awoke at midnight. The swell had lessened to 4 feet and not a breeze was blowing. Now, 12:00 midnight, I thought was a good time to raise anchor and take advantage of the moment. Having a working GPS aboard would help me navigate around hidden dangers in the dark with less worry.

I had already prepared Chickadee the day before. I flashed up Bessy and proceeded to motor over the anchor as I grinded away on the windlass. The anchor chain came up smooth at first then came taunt. I waited for a swell to roll beneath the hull then continued to grind. Taunt again but this time, Bessy’s propeller came out of the water as Chickadee’s bow buried into the next rising swell. I can’t believe it. The anchor is caught on something. I tried to let out rode to prevent damage to the windlass but tens of thousands of pounds of tension on the chain and windlass held tight. Another swell rolled into the bay, Chickadee went down at the bow yet again. I managed to close the V-berth hatch in a moment of time to keep an infinite million tons of water from cascading below deck and sinking us on the spot.

I waited for the swell to roll past at its lowest point then manage to free up the windlass releasing 50 feet of chain. For 30 minutes I heaved and hauled grinding away in the dark taking extra caution not to loose any fingers already black and blue and cut from the runaway shroud episode 36 hours earlier.

Now the prospect of having to jettison 160 feet of 3/8 BBB and my favorite 22 lb Bruce anchor to Davy Jones locker in the waters of La Boquita was sadly becoming very real. Financially it would kill me. The replacement cost of the primary anchor system is serious business.

In my final attempt to raise the jammed anchor, I lashed down the tiller athwartship and used Bessy to maneuver a reciprocal course around the anchor sweeping from port to starboard. What seemed like an eternity of weaving side to side, I put Bessy in neutral, went to the windlass and started to grind once more. The chain came aboard fathom by precious fathom until we were free and clear from holding. By 01:15 hrs, Chickadee was under way. I set a course of 170 degrees and will hold this course for 1 hour to put us clear of a rocky point marking the southwest end of La Boquita.

After one hour passed, I set a course of 130 degrees which would put Chickadee on a south bound rhumb line with 10 degrees room for error. At 03:00 hrs in the morning, a light breeze started to pick up and I was able to hoist the double reefed main sail and working jib. Half an hour before day break at 05:00 hrs, Chickadee was 3 miles off Astillero. I had turned off Bessie hours earlier to save precious fuel. The breeze strengthened to perfect sailing conditions so I continued on for Gigante. By 09:00 hrs, I spotted Punta De Pie near Playa Gigante. The wind, typical for January in this region, was blowing hard out of the east.

Chickadee was performing like a champ rocketing along on course for San Juan Del Sur at hull speed. At 11:00 hrs we were on latitude with Bahia Majagual, four miles from home. The wind funneling across Lake Nicaragua and through the San Juan valley fed Chickadee furnace hot katabatic blasts. We rounded the point and aimed for the devils throat. At 13:00 hrs, January 3rd 2006, I dropped the anchor in Bahia San Juan, Nicaragua. I hitched a ride ashore on a passing panga and stumbled up the road to Rosio and the children. I walked into the house, salt encrusted, unshaven, sun burnt and happy to be home. The house was full of people, Nicaraguan family members beyond count. Baby Erika and Robin spotted me first and threw their arms around me…“Papa Papa”. Too Be Continued…