52 minute read
Life Aboard
by Editor Robin Stout
For whatever reason, many would-be cruisers who head south end up as liveaboards in Mexico. During our cruise through Mexico we have met liveaboards in every marina we’ve visited. Some people come here to live aboard, but most began a cruise and ended up finding somewhere they loved and settled down. These liveaboards become part of the local community. Some are retired, some are working and some have started businesses. Most end up in marinas yet some stay in anchorages. When considering the options of living aboard your boat south of the border, there are many things to consider.
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Language
We spoke very little Spanish when we first arrived. We studied, asked questions and learned along the way. There are Spanish lessons available at many marinas and you can even arrange for a private tutor. We did purchase a software program to help us learn espanol and it helps. Our classroom has been in taxi cabs, restaurants and mixing in with the locals.
We’ve found the people to be very kind when we are trying to learn their language. They speak slower and have been happy to help us. We’ve found that just trying to speak a little of the local lingo goes a long way. Just trotting out a few words of bad Spanish has opened doors to meet the locals and provided opportunities to get a closer glimpse of the local culture. Taking the time to learn at least enough Spanish to understand directions and order in a restaurant will make life easier and your experience much richer.
Immigrating
A tourist visa allows you a six-month stay in Mexico, but if you’re moving in you’ll want to check into obtaining a “Temporary Resident” card (formerly known as an FM3). Most of the information is online but it’s not in English. If you’re not comfortable with the process you can hire an agent who will help with the paperwork and legwork (most offices aren’t close to each other). Using agents can be expensive, but may be worth the expense by getting you through the process. This process must be started in the USA, so check into it before leaving the country.
Mail and Banking
Even when dock lines and other ties have been cut, there may still be things “back home” that need to be tended to. Mail and banking are two of these that we have dealt with. We found a service (St Brendan’s Isle) to handle our mail. They scan the mail and we read it online. They will forward it where it needs to go (usually friends coming to visit) or shred it for us.
We found online banking to be a lifesaver. We manage accounts online and we can even make deposits via the iPad.
Cars and Driving
Some liveaboards choose to bring a car into Mexico from their home, some buy a car when they arrive and others (like us) use public transportation and taxis. Bringing a car in does give the opportunity to bring much needed parts and supplies, but make sure to check out the laws on keeping a foreign car in the country. We have
Living Aboard in Mexico
rented a car and found driving to be a little more excitement than we were looking for. For example, left turns from the right lane... that can be quite exciting. We are happy to hop on the bus or hire a taxi and leave the driving to someone else. This also gives us a chance to see things along the way and practice our Spanish.
Cost of Living
People living aboard here in Mexico are on budgets that range from dinner being beans and rice aboard to lobster in a restaurant. Some have big budgets and some are quite small. We have found the cost of things like food, services and other items to be less expensive than in the USA. For example, a beer at Philo’s, one of the most popular cruiser hangouts on the Pacific coast of Mexico, is 25 pesos, just under two dollars.
One thing to consider is the cost of berthing the boat. You can anchor out for free and this can drastically cut your budget, but if you’re planning on staying in a marina you’ll have lots of choices. The facilities and costs vary widely with top-of-theline marinas charging rates that are as high, and sometimes higher than berthing costs in the U.S.
Weather
We love tropical weather, but the summer near the coast is HOT, often very humid and there can be hurricanes. Many liveaboards have installed air conditioning and an afternoon dip to cool off is a common occurrence. Summer is when many liveaboards choose to visit family and friends in other parts of the world or explore inland where there are mountains and the weather tends to be much cooler.
Safety
Violence against boaters is rare but, just as anywhere, you need to be aware of what is going on around you. We use the same common sense we would use in the good old USA and have never felt threatened or uncomfortable. Many marinas have onsite security and theft from boats in marinas is rare. There are occasional thefts of dingies and outboards from boats anchored out, but it’s nowhere near as big a problem as say the San Francisco Bay area where over 50 outboard thefts have been reported recently.
Patience
Mexico, like many countries in the tropics, operates on their own schedule. “Manana” may not mean tomorrow... sometimes it means not right now. Getting in a hurry or getting irritated may actually slow things down. Don’t expect the same pace you’re used to back home. This just doesn’t work, so if you want things to be like home my advice to you is to stay there. We’ve adopted an acronym that we break out often: TIM. It stands for This Is Mexico. They have their own way of getting things done and if you just go with the flow things have a way of working out. I still own a great T-shirt that I purchased from a now defunct sailing rag that says, “Attitude, the difference between ordeal and adventure.” If you want to live aboard in a foreign land, experience other cultures and have great adventures, be patient and keep a positive attitude and you’ll have a great experience.
Distant Shores
Sailing the World, Living Large & Loving Life
By Paul & Sheryl Shard
When Sheryl and I first started full-time cruising 23 years ago people asked us three common questions: Where are you going to sail? Are you worried about storms? Aren’t you worried about pirates? Well, we sailed around the Atlantic, we did worry about storms but managed to avoid them or deal with them, and steered clear of areas where there were risks of pirates. On that first three-year cruise we fell in love with the cruising lifestyle, explored 23 countries while sailing over 20,000 miles, and developed our skills in photography and videography as we documented our experiences. We were as passionate about filming as about sailing and as a result, our plan to return to the real world never happened... Cruising became our job when Discovery Channel and other television
Sailing the World, Living Large & Loving Life
broadcasters licensed our travel documentaries about the cruising life. We have been making sailing television programs for 20 years now starting with our first documentary, “Call of the Ocean,” then our first TV series, “Exploring Under Sail,” and are now shooting season 9 of our current TV series “Distant Shores” with over 100 half-hour episodes broadcast worldwide in 24 languages. Distant Shores celebrates the cruising life, profiles the world’s top cruising destinations, and offers hints and tips on safe and comfortable cruising. Now when we tell people that we sail the world and film it all for a television program their common question is, “How did you get that job?!” The short answer is we made our own job. The long answer is more interesting! At 29 years old we set off on our first threeyear cruise with a plan to film what we could of our adventure. We had training in film and photography and had been doing freelance work before departing. From Toronto we headed down the Erie Canal and Hudson River to New York City, then down the Intracoastal Waterway to Florida. We had splurged on a professional underwater camera housing to add to our collection of photography and video equipment as we are both keen divers. Crossing the Gulf Stream to the Bahamas we spent that first magical winter exploring the undersea-Bahamas and learning more about underwater filming. We are both qualified SCUBA divers but on our first boat, a small 37-footer, we didn’t have room for tanks and a compressor. Instead we developed what would become a passion, free-diving and filming underwater. I think we are one of the rare film crews to film while free-diving. It yielded one of our most magical underwater scenes, thanks to the lack of bubbles that scare off larger animals. On that occasion, we were diving in a deep cut between two islands in the Exumas. Swimming down to eight meters I saw a squadron of three huge eagle rays swimming past. These animals are often nearly two meters across the wings and three meters long to their whip tail. I sank down quietly to hide beside a rocky coral head as they flew majestically away. I had been down just about a minute and was getting ready to come back up when the rays turned and headed back toward my coral head. My longest dives are nearly three minutes but the rays were still ten meters away and I hoped I would have enough breath to wait for them to swim by. As they came closer it seemed they would come right for me - with no bubbles to give me away, just the large underwater camera peering out and capturing the whole scene. The three eagle rays swam
directly for the camera and went so close over my head I had to duck even further. The resulting shot looks like a Star Wars scene where the enormous Imperial Cruiser passes right over the Millenium Falcon. Lungs bursting I quickly headed for the surface as soon as the whip tails had safely passed. Whew! After that first winter in the Bahamas we felt ready to tackle an ocean crossing. We had sailed to the Azores and learned that sperm whales were often to be encountered in the waters near the islands. We dedicated almost a full month to filming whales underwater in one of our most ambitious early projects. We discussed our plan with marine biologists who were filming a documentary about the white whale, and got hints for how to safely get film of these magnificent animals. We spent 12-hour days travelling grids searching for our quarry, most often returning with little to show for it. If we saw whales I would slip into the water some ways ahead and swim to intersect them. Sheryl would move the boat away and hopefully a whale would come close enough to be filmed. After many days we were rewarded for our patience with a precious few minutes of film. On the day that we decided to leave the Azores and head on to Madeira we were in “passage-mode”
Sailing the World, Living Large & Loving Life
not really ready to meet whales - but there they were! Well practiced by now, I slipped into the water and the largest whale we ever saw swam right toward me. Seeing this whale, 15 feet longer than our boat, point his bulbous head right at me, Sheryl had to decide whether to intervene with the boat or take the chance and let me get the shot. Thankfully it all worked out! After pinging me with his sonar (I could feel the vibration in my chest the way you sometimes do when standing in front of a loud stereo speaker) he swam up to gaze at me with a grapefruit-sized eyeball, then rolled away and swam off. I got a nice piece of footage to add to the sperm whale segment in our first documentary, Call of the Ocean. Call of the Ocean was licensed by the Discovery Channel since it had a lot of nature and underwater filming. That first contact is important in television, and this opened the door for further television work. On our next television project, we worked with noted Canadian film and television director, Peter Rowe, on a sailing series called “Exploring Under Sail” and over those four years learned a lot more about the industry. When we branched off on our own and started
making the Distant Shores TV show in 1998 we had been working professionally in television for five years. We never grow tired of the joys of sailing and filming. It’s always fun planning voyages and thinking of destinations with the television show in mind. So many kind viewers have written telling us what aspects of the show they enjoy and we appreciate these letters from all over the world. Meeting interesting characters has always been popular, and as cruising sailors we seem to meet quite a few! Sometimes it’s just a lucky break - filming the amazing Greek Orthodox Monastery at Patmos we happened to be there when the former King Constantine II of Greece was visiting. We scored a quick interview with him and his Danish Wife, Queen Anne Marie, who told us she loves watching the Travel Channel where Distant Shores is shown across Europe! Although a number of millions of people catch the show around the world, we always keep in mind that our most loyal viewers are our fellow sailors and potential cruising sailors. For our sailing audience we always try to craft a show that will help inform and entertain from a sailor’s perspective, but will still satisfy the interests of the general traveller who make up the much larger segment of the television market. Topics include dealing with unusual conditions in local waters such as the strong currents in the Dardanelles en route to Istanbul, the extreme tides of the Channel Islands off France, or the challenges of piloting the shallow waters of the Bahamas. As well as to entertain while profiling great nautical tourism destinations, our goal is to pass on what we have learned over the years to help out fellow sailors if they are interested in making the journey themselves. It has been immensely gratifying to meet up with sailors who have followed our shows on television, got inspired to try the lifestyle, have learned to sail, and then got out cruising. One year in Marmaris, Turkey, when we were hauled out in the yard sweating over the annual maintenance chores, a cruising sailor with long, sunbleached blonde hair recognized us and came over to thank us for the inspiration the show had given him to set off cruising. He invited us to come down at happy hour and see his new catamaran. We brought along a bottle of “cruiser wine” and were astonished when we saw his boat, which was at that time the third largest catamaran in the world at nearly a hundred feet long! A waiter
Sailing the World, Living Large & Loving Life
came to the upper deck to take our drink order and we quietly hid our wine under the table. Despite having a very different style from most cruisers we meet, this guy was out exploring and having adventures. (Turned out he’d just sold a hotel chain.) We marvelled at this cruising life we all share! Our most recent cruising has been to Northern Europe where we filmed the season 7 and 8 episodes of the Distant Shores TV series. Over the past three years we cruised the Baltic, the UK, Norway and France. Our Baltic cruise started with an early spring cruise of the Solent, then sailing east to Holland and Germany where we headed through the Kiel Canal into the Baltic to explore Denmark and Sweden. We returned through the Dutch canals and visited Amsterdam, filming 13 half-hour shows on the trip. In 2011 we explored Ireland and Scotland, where we sampled whisky and sailed through Loch Ness keeping a sharp eye out for the monster. On that trip we went our furthest north ever, 61 degrees, filming in the dramatic Sognefjord on the west coast of Norway, the longest fjord in Europe. Then in 2012 we fulfilled a longtime dream to cross France by the canals. Our Southerly 49 sailboat has a lifting keel which allows us to reduce draft to less than one meter (three feet) so we put the mast down on deck and set off up the
Seine River. An idyllic 10-week cruise followed, entering Paris on our own boat, crossing the tiny canals of France (via 179 locks) and sampling the local wines and fine foods. We filmed the adventure of course, then emerged from the canals in the Med at Port St Louis. Next was a quick passage out to Gibraltar, Morocco, and the Canary Islands before crossing the Atlantic as part of the ARC - the Atlantic Rally for Cruisers. We have documented all these experiences for season 9 of Distant Shores. Now comes another key part of the project - we must sit still for a while to edit up the shows we have shot. This is always an enjoyable part of our job. It usually takes two weeks to edit down the five hours of raw footage that will make the final 24 minutes of film that is one episode of Distant Shores. As I sit here in the British Virgin Islands we are starting in on that job. We will hang here for a month or so, doing preliminary rough editing, then fly home to the studio to do the final sound and colour work to complete the shows to television standards. It’s a fun job, and we know we are lucky we have been able to make it work. So if you are back home planning that next cruise, perhaps an episode of “Distant Shores” will help you make those plans and get out cruising. And if you are already out there and spot Distant Shores II at anchor - please come by and say hi! See you out there!
Sailing the World, Living Large & Loving Life
Paul and Sheryl are the hosts of the Distant Shores sailing adventure TV series which airs in the USA and Caribbean on WealthTV, in Canada on Travel and Escape Channel, and in Europe, Asia, Middle East, Africa and New Zealand on Travel Channel. Paul and Sheryl have travelled to more than 60 countries and colonies around the Atlantic Ocean, Caribbean, Mediterranean, North and Baltic Seas. They’ve sailed 90,000 nautical miles and have crossed the Atlantic Ocean five times. You can follow their voyages on www. distantshores.ca and their shows are available on DVD as well.
Ka-Ata-Killa
A Tartan 372
By Zuzana Prochazka
Ka-Ata-Killa was the name of a moon goddess in the area of pre-Incan Lake Titicaca in Peru. Today, it’s also the name of a 37-foot boat that sails out of Alamitos in Southern California and belongs to Frank and Patty Conner. I had to look up the name but neither Wikipedia nor GodChecker.com provided any more information including how to pronounce it. It makes for interesting VHF hailing calls, assuming you can remember it or default to Mele Kalikimaka (Hawaiian for Merry Christmas) or just, “Frank, are you out there?”
Ka-Ata-Killa is hull #28 of the Tartan 372, a design that was launched in the late 1980s between the original Sparkman & Stephens T37 and the next Tim Jacket-designed T3800. The model was built between 1989 and 1993 and only about 60 hulls were produced by the Ohio company that has a long history and an excellent pedigree.
This is not the fi rst boat for the Conners. In fact, Patty grew up in a boating family with a salty dad and siblings. Frank started sailing at the excellent Orange Coast School of Sailing and Seamanship in Newport
Harbor and chartered quite a bit. Once together, Frank and Patty first purchased a Tartan 30 which they enjoyed for many years until Frank made what he describes as a near-marriage-ending move and bought a $7,500 engine for a $10,000 boat – without discussing it first. Many years later, Patty retaliated by purchasing a $750 scarf. She figures she’s only ten percent into the payback on that equation.
Eventually, the Conners decided to look for a boat with a bit more room including a dedicated nav station and an aft cabin with a real door so it would be, in Patty’s words, “slightly above camping.” It’s not that they were necessarily targeting another Tartan but by then they understood the quality of the brand, so when a 1989 T372 came up for sale in Oceanside in 2004, they saw their opportunity to upgrade.
Patty jumps right in when asked what they like about the boat and, unprompted, rolls off a list of adjectives: safe, sturdy, durable, dependable, and reliable. Note the common theme – every one of those words underscores her trust and comfort level with a boat that will take care of its owners.
Frank echoes her thoughts and adds his own observations. “I’ve never taken a wave over the stern and I like that it’s a dry boat,” he says. “It’s really stiff and well-constructed.” Those are important features since he often single-hands the boat to Catalina. He also likes that the lines are easy to handle, the angles in the cockpit are good, there is excellent storage inside and out, and the chainplates are beefy wide straps that are visible and accessible down below.
Frank has been impressed by Tartan as a company too. Not all boats of the 1980s vintage can claim to have the builder be still in business, much less to be providing services to owners of models long out of production. “They have a good inventory of spare parts even for the older boats,” says Frank. “I’ve been sent small pieces without charge. It’s that kind of support that is a real plus.”
Another plus is the active owners’ association. Tartan has a loyal following and the many models that were built throughout the years are still plying the waters of both coasts. The Southern California chapter is TOSCA, Tartan Owners of Southern California Association, and it’s an invaluable resource with a forum of tips and ideas, assorted news and published articles, various rendezvous sites, and lists of events throughout the year. Associations like this add another dimension to boat ownership and build social networks that reach far beyond the slip.
On Deck & Down Below
The old T37 was an IOR design with typically pointy ends. The newer T372 carries her beam farther aft and is more IMS-style. The underbody of the slippery hull has an elliptical rudder and one of two keel configurations, a shoal or deep draft, the latter being perfect for the deep waters of the West Coast.
The tall, double-spreader rig has a babystay and carries 672 square feet of sail area (at 100%). Frank has opted for a 110% genoa because the original 140% was a handful for shorthanded sailing. The traveler is at the companionway so there is mid-boom sheeting and the primary winches are within reach of the helmsman. The deck and cabintop are relatively low which makes for a nice profile but are still high enough for good headroom below. An opening anchor locker on the bow provides plenty of protection for the windlass.
Ka-Ata-Killa has a standard two-cabin, one-head layout. The teak interior features a large galley to starboard, and a saloon with a drop-leaf table, a
U-shaped settee to starboard and a straight settee to port. The master stateroom is forward with a large v-berth, a sink, and lots of storage. Aft is another private cabin to starboard with a sizeable head opposite.
Tanks for water and fuel are under the settees and the Volvo diesel is under the sink with good access from three sides. Machinery like pumps and the hot water heater are under the companionway steps.
Over the years, Frank has made a few modifications. He added a dodger and bimini, solar panels, autopilot, hot water heater, a Handcraft mattress and more batteries. Because they belong to the Blue Water Cruising Club that has a facility in Big Geiger Cove on Catalina Island, Frank also added an electric windlass and 275 feet of all-chain rode on the bow and secondary rode off the stern. The cove is small and the mandatory fore-and-aft anchoring in a tight spot is not for the squeamish.
After nine years, Frank and Patty can only come up with a handful of things they’d like to be different and most of them are
upgrades that can still be done. Frank covets stainless steel ports by Newfound Metals which is not a small project but doable. He’d also like a separate shower stall which really isn’t doable unless you put a curtain on deck and add a solar shower. Patty would like a larger freezer and a dedicated space for trash. This is a relatively short wish list. I mean, who among us couldn’t come up with a list of tradeoffs on their own boat which would fi ll multiple pages?
The Conners use their boat often and have thoroughly investigated the waters of Southern California although the Channel Islands still await. Patty enjoys Geiger Cove with family and friends. “It’s like going back 25 years,’ she says. “You can’t beat the crystal clear water in your own little corner of the island.”
For now, neither has a plan to buy a third boat. That might be a good thing since Patty still has $6,750 dollars to go to catch up on her side of the spending equation.
Specifi cations for Tartan 372
LOA: 37’ 2”
LWL: 30’ 10”
Beam: Draft: Displacement: Sail Area: Water: Fuel: Auxilliary: 12’ 4” 6’ 10” 15,200 lbs. 672 sq. ft. 90 gallons 45 gallons 47 hp Volvo
HOOKING RULES
ANCHORING ETIQUETTE FOR CRUISERS
BY CAPTAIN ALEX BLACKWELL
At home, social etiquette is something one learns from one’s parents. For example, most people grow up learning to eat at a table, each culture in its own way. On the other hand, not everyone grows up boating. Therefore, it is hard for most people to have a fi ner sense of behavioral do’s and don’ts on the water. Unless you are a Robinson Crusoe anchored off a deserted island on your own, you need to know etiquette. We all do.
What is etiquette other than a code, written or unwritten, that governs the expectations of behavior according to the contemporary conventions and social norms. Many, though not all, laws that govern us today are based in some way on such common sense and established practice. Anchoring etiquette is no exception, and though some of this, too, has passed into law, more remains unwritten. In any case, there are some things one should or must comply with when coming into an anchorage and dropping a hook. The same goes for what one does once securely attached to the bottom. When there is no written rule or law, common sense and etiquette will often dictate who has the rights if and when a dispute arises, and rest assured that it will.
There you are relaxing after a long passage (okay, so you only motored an hour to get there), it is a beautiful calm and sunny day, you are about to go swimming and peace and harmony abound. That is until your soonto-be intimate neighbor arrives. He is at the wheel and clearly having a bad day based on the loud expletives emanating from him. His tender mate is on the foredeck jostling with the anchor and associated hardware. She, too, has good lung capacity. They enter the anchorage with just the right amount of steam to bury their large stern and kick up a wake that would surely wake the dead. And, as surely as the sun will set in the west, they have your full and undivided attention.
Now that they are here, they parallel your boat and then angle inward as they pass your bow. All thoughts about relaxing evaporate as you hear a chain clanking and see a yard sale worth of tackle unceremoniously being shoved overboard – right in line with your anchor.
The good news is that their boat stays put. The bad news is they never set their anchor. Instead they brought up some cocktails and fi red up their barbi directly upwind of your boat. The plume drifts towards you, and their boat is likely to do so as well.
But it does not end there, heavens no! Ambiance is required and they crank up the stereo – a good high amp sound system must be used to its max. You just know that later the cell phone will come out beeping some annoying and repetitive sound, and only if you are lucky will it be replaced by shouting of “Can you hear me now?” when one of them responds to the incessant phone’s demands as the dog barks in answer from the cockpit.
Then out come the toys – and they have them all. The jet skis (personal watercraft) start buzzing, the
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A peacefull serene anchorage is a great thing, but for some reason boats act as magnets. In a wide-open bay, a second boat will almost always anchor next to the only boat in the bay.
ski boat uses your boat as a rounding mark and the chopper is just waiting for take off.
Then later on, the sun has set, dinner is done and the stars decorate the fi rmament while their underwater lights keep the fi sh awake below. The fl oodlights come on, and the bravado starts anew. Yes, you guessed it. They have drifted over towards your boat. You are able to see the whites of their eyes without the need for optical magnifi cation with your binoculars. “What are you doing so close to my boat?” he shouts in your direction. There goes any chance for a peaceful evening.
This is an extreme, fi ctitious, example we created to highlight some of the inconsiderate and even rude behaviors that all qualify for breech of etiquette. We all have true stories on this line to recount. Frankly, had we in fact experienced just the beginnings of this scenario, we most assuredly would have left for a more peaceful spot long before it got this far. On the other hand, if we had stayed and that friendly neighbor’s boat had hit ours, he would clearly be at fault, though it would have been a tedious and heated process to get to that point.
The cardinal rule of anchoring etiquette is quite simple: The fi rst boat anchored sets the precedent. After that, it comes down to common sense and respect. So beyond the cardinal rule, there are fi ve simple things to consider when coming into an anchorage or picking a spot. All of these ‘rules’ were violated in the opening story: Wake, Proximity, Sound, Sight, and Smell Cardinal Rule
The First Boat Sets the Precedent
If you arrive in an anchorage and the fi rst boat there is a cabin cruiser yawing widely and they have 200 feet of rope rode out in fi ve feet of water, they have set the precedent. Any subsequently arriving boats will need to give them room. Also remember that moorings, fi sh fl oats, traps and pots were there before any visiting boat.
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This ‘rule’ is actually written into Admiralty case law: “A vessel shall be found at fault if it ... anchors so close to another vessel as to foul her when swinging ... (and/or) fails to shift anchorage when dragging dangerously close to another anchored vessel. Furthermore, the vessel that anchored fi rst shall warn the one who anchored last that the berth chosen will foul the former’s berth.” (U.S. Decision No. 124-5861 — 1956).
Anchoring etiquette dictates that the use of an anchorage is on a fi rst come, fi rst served basis. The fi rst boat has the right to anchor whichever way they please, putting out one or two anchors, in whatever confi guration with as much scope as they deem appropriate. Everyone else is obligated to avoid interfering with any boat there before them. This is best done by matching what they have done – ask if uncertain. If you do not like how your predecessors have anchored, then go elsewhere.
Similarly, if someone comes into the anchorage and anchors too close or does not use enough scope, it is fair for you to address them, politely asking them to move or let out more rode as the case may be. In fact, according to the US Admiralty decision cited above, you are required to do so should there be a possibility of them hindering you. If Things go Bump in the Night
Whether you are the fi rst to arrive or the last does not matter if your anchor drags. Now yours is the burdened vessel in the eyes of the law and you must keep clear of all other boats. Everyone may drag anchor at one time or another. It is how you handle the situation that makes the difference. The Magnet Effect
We also keep an eye on boats that arrive after we do. Why? Because of the magnet effect. Even though most boats are plastic, if you drop a hook in the water in a wide open anchorage you are bound to attract the only other boat to come in. Yes, they will do a nice circle around your boat, wave to you, and then drop their anchor right next to you – never over on the other side of the bay. (See photo of a power boat demonstrating the ‘magnet effect’ and anchoring right next to a yawl in a wide open anchorage and then disgorged three jet skis, which buzzed the yawl like angry bugs.)
Wake
Mind Your Effect on Entering an Anchorage
Entering an anchorage or mooring area is like moving into a new neighborhood. You want your neighbors to like you. Enter at slow speed (less than 5 knots) to avoid making a wake. You don’t want to create a disturbance that would upset someone’s dinner table. Anchorages are “no wake zones.” And remember, even a dinghy can throw a considerable wake
A dinghy passing an anchorage: Watch your wake when you are near anchored vessels. A wake can cause a lot of damage on board when people are at anchor and think all is safe.
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Throwing a wake is a serious offense in many anchorages. In many places, especially those marked as no wake zones, the harbormaster can pull you over and give you a citation that will cost you serious money. Remember also that every boater is responsible for any damage caused by his or her wake.
Proximity
Give Your Predecessors (and Yourself) Room
Cruise through the anchorage before selecting your spot. When you see a spot you like, check around for proximity of other anchored vessels. How close are the boats next to the spot you are eyeing? Might they have a generator or air conditioning onboard that would create noise in the anchorage? Does it look like a situation with party potential, such as a raft up? Do they have anchors out in confi gurations that would create markedly different swing patterns than you are contemplating? Sound Disturbing the Peace
Please remember that sound travels far over water. Voices, music, engine noise, especially outboard motors – and that includes dinghies, unmuffl ed go-fast boats, ski boats, jet skis, generators, barking dogs and the dreaded ‘ringing phone’ are all examples of the most egregious disruption of anchorage serenity. It is easy to see that common sense can prevail in predicting what will not be appreciated and protecting the serenity for the common good.
Smell Sharing is Not Always Desirable
Smell is a rather noxious way to interrupt someone’s idyllic evening. Barbecues light up in every anchorage and most people don’t mind the smell of burgers on the grill. But if you have an excessively smoky meal to cook or fi sh on the grill, being upwind of a boatload of vegetarians may be cause for strong sentiments. In general there is not a lot you can do here except, of course, where possible avoid anchoring directly upwind of another vessel.
Sharing is not always a good thing, especially when you are upwind of other vessels and cooking something particularly odiferous. Lights After Dark, Seeing the Light
Light can be a major potential annoyance at best and a serious hazard at worst. If you come into an anchorage at night and fi nd that you must use a search light to fi nd an opening, do not shine the light directly at other people’s boats. And never shine the light into people’s faces. You will blind them with the light. If they happen also to be underway as you are searching for the right spot, they will be incapable of maneuvering safely and may not see you coming. When the wind shifts, be sure you will have enough “swing room.” Obviously these folks didn’t fi gure right.
RULES - HOOKING RULES - HOOKING RULES -
Bright lights can blind you when entering a harbor. Don’t shine your spotlight on new arrivals. You can indicate your position by shinning a light on your boat.
No one likes shouting. The easiest way to communicate while anchoring is by hand signals. Here the First Mate is indicating a port turn. Parctice a little and it is easy! And no shouting!
Etiquette Afi eld When You Go Far and Wide
When chartering or sailing to remote destinations such as reef sites and island paradises, never drop an anchor on anything but sand! Anchoring on coral is a violation of almost every nation’s regulations, not to mention the local customs.
Many places have now put in moorings in ecologically sensitive zones. Always use the mooring balls if you can. If you can’t use a mooring because someone got there before you or whatever other reason, then verify that you are over clear sand before dropping your anchor.
Of course, the COLREGS (the Rules of the Road) still apply in anchorages. Stay away from channels and government marks, and avoid restricted zones! Be sure to turn on your all around white anchor light at night or display a black ball during the day when anchored to comply with the law.
Eight Island Adventure Sail
By Captain John Schaefer
In retrospect, it was probably a dumb question revealing a pitiful lack of worldliness. Dusk had turned to darkness at the anchorage in Antigua’s Falmouth Harbor and masthead anchor lights were creating their own fi rmament overhead. “I see 14 boats here with red masthead lights instead of white. What’s that about?”
“Warning to low-fl ying airplanes,” explained John, co-owner and captain of the Beneteau 50 For Play that was carrying us on an islandhopping expedition from St. Lucia to Sint Maarten.
Of course. In Falmouth Harbor size defi nitely matters. If you don’t have at least four sets of spreaders you aren’t playing with the big boys. The biggest was on the dock a hundred yards off our starboard bow. The Maltese Falcon is a modern (2006) three-masted square rigger inspired by the clipper ships. It is 289 feet long and has two 1,800 horsepower engines, crew accommodations for 18 and guest quarters for 12 plus four of the guest staff members. Fifteen sails are stored in the carbon fi ber masts and unfurl along tracks on the yards. It was last reported to be owned by a woman who is a principal (surprise) in a hedge fund. Our two women on For Play asked us to use our infl uence to arrange a tour, but since we don’t have any infl uence we could only imagine.
With the Classic Yacht Regatta a week away, other big and beautiful sailing confections were arriving. The J-boat Ranger had ghosted to the dock at dusk. Although our itinerary was designed to steer clear of big, industrial-strength harbors, this quartet of Vermont cruisers was happy to stand in awe of Falmouth Harbor.
We had picked up the boat at Rodney Bay, St. Lucia. Exploring smaller, secondary harbors was our prime consideration, but respect for the shoppers on board was an important second. Only a couple of passages were longer than 40 miles and several of them are much shorter. First, SaintPierre, Martinique and then on to Prince Rupert Bay at Portsmouth, Dominica. Next it would be Iles des Saintes, a cluster of small islands south of Guadaloupe that are hard to fi nd on any normal map, and then a run along the island’s west coast to tiny Deshaies. On to Falmouth Harbor, Antigua, with another stopover at Jolly Harbor, we would wrap up with passages to Nevis, Basseterre on St. Kitts, then Gustavia on St. Barts and fi nally Phillipsburg, Sint Maarten. Days of sightseeing were built into the schedule.
After a day of provisioning, four of us set off for Martinique on lumpy seas with the breeze between islands ranging from 23 to 28 knots. There was John, who had sailed to Cuba with me aboard Dream Weaver, his wife Ceci and my signifi cant other, Terri, a novice sailor but an experienced nurse with more than 25 international volunteer medical missions to her credit, from Haiti to Viet Nam.
Most of our stops were at volcanic islands, and nowhere is that more graphically demonstrated than at Saint-Pierre, where Mt. Pelée towers over the village. Before 1902, Saint-Pierre and its 30,000 residents were known as a “little Paris of the West Indies,” the cultural and economic center for Martinique. The volcano erupted at 8 a.m. May 8, blowing off its southwest side and killing everyone in the village in a matter of minutes. Today, newer buildings rise from the stone foundations that survived.
We found the customs offi ce perched on a street high above one of those old foundations, sharing
space with the tourist offi ce. The French islands have streamlined the customs process with selfservice computers. Data follows you from port to port and you quickly sign in with an offi cial. Most of the other islands still have an almost comic cliché staff: one middleaged fat guy accomplished at ignoring sailors, a young skinny guy earnestly pecking away at a computer, and fi nally an indifferent woman who wields the ultimate almighty power of the Rubber Stamp.
St. Pierre is easy to like; a small walkable village clinging to the water’s edge. The shoppers migrated toward the madras plaid items found on everything from clothing to wine stoppers while the guys found cold Carib beer near the waterfront. We all rendezvoused for lunch at a waterfront restaurant called La Vague and struggled with the menu using our high school French. Our morning passage to Dominica was one of the longer ones, a little over 50 nautical miles. It turned out to be another breezy, lumpy sail through beam seas that had been building for days. We were glad to have a dreadlocked guy in skiff help us pick up a mooring in Prince Rupert Bay at about 3:30, as showers slid down into the bay from the volcanic peaks. Soon a bright blue skiff, Sea Bird, appeared. Jeffrey, an old acquaintance of John’s, arrived for a chat. Jeffrey is president of the association that manages—and monitors—the harbor. The news: fuel was now available at the small cruise ship dock, and the Japanese were building a new dock for the fi shermen.
With rugged, mountainous terrain and beautiful rain forests, Dominica is one of the poorest and least developed islands in the Caribbean. The island had a brief windfall in the spring of 2005 when segments of Pirates of the Caribbean 2 and 3 were fi lmed on the rugged east coast.
For about $45 per person Jeffrey arranged an all-day tour of the northern half of the island, and the next morning Winston met us at the dinghy dock with his van. The van grunted up the curving roads into a thickening jungle. Winston explained, “The east side of the island gets 350 inches of rain a year, the west side maybe 60 to 80.”
We learned why the banana bunches were wrapped in blue plastic bags (keeps birds and rats from nesting) and stopped from time to time to crush a few leaves of the local fl ora: the bay leaves used to
make bay rum, the patchouli that smelled like our hippie days and is used as a dressing for dreadlocks, and the ylang ylang essence found in perfumes. We sampled cassava bread baked over an open fi re, and blood oranges and mangoes from a roadside stand.
The Carib Indian reservation on the windward east side of the island is the last territory of the once conquering Indians for whom the Caribbean is named. Now they sell baskets crafted from swamp plants at roadside stands on a bluff that plunges hundreds of feet into the sea. This Calibishie Coast area is attracting foreign tourists and second home owners and is not far from the small Melville Hall Airport that connects Dominica to larger airports via LIAT and American Eagle commuters.
Lunch was at tiny Islet View Café, clinging to a cliff overlooking the ocean. The menu was a choice between steamed fish or chicken, washed down with Kubuli, the local brew. Kubuli is a shortened version of the Carib word for Dominica, waitikubuli, “tall is her body.” On the way back we trekked 15 minutes into a park to see Emerald Pond, where a group of swimmers splashed under a jungle waterfall. The next morning Jeffrey collected us in his skiff for a tour up the Indian River, part of a park that forbids travel by motorboat. He rowed us through a tunnel of jungle foliage, pointing out iguanas in the trees, an egret murdering a crab for lunch among the mangrove roots, and the location of the witch’s cabin in “Pirates.” “We might see a boa constrictor today,” he said with a sly grin as he rowed. “They like to climb into the boat with the women.” No boas.
The trip ended at a jungle bar of sticks and thatch where we waited out another tropical shower. The showers and 28-knot winds persisted on the 20-mile sail to Iles des Saintes, a cluster of two islands--Terre-de-Bas and Terre-de-Haute-- and six big rocks. The rain lifted as we anchored off the village on Terre-de-Haute, another pretty French village with a chiming Catholic church tower and a busy ferry dock. It was a weekend and the village seemed young, fashionable and full of visitors in a hurry.
Motor scooters zoomed past pedestrians with inches to spare as we meandered through a collection
of boutiques, ice cream stands, scooter rental shops and three grocery stores. One had lots of baguettes and a single block of ice, the only ice we could fi nd. Like many of the islands, excluding major cruise ports, stores close at noon or 12:30 and reopen at 3:00.
We had a pleasant lunch at Blue Pizza and made dinner reservations for the next day at tiKa la, a restaurant across the street. tiKa la turned out to be an excellent choice with not only a charming staff, but excellent food and a view of our boat anchored off the beach.
The next day started with showers blowing through before we hoisted anchor for a fi ve-hour sail along the west coast of Guadaloupe to the little village of Deshaies. Showers again rolled down out of the volcanic hills as we motored into the very deep bay and fi nally anchored in 22 feet. Barely mentioned in guidebooks, primarily for good snorkeling and fi shing, Deshaies was a pleasant surprise. We didn’t expect much but found a prosperous village center with a Lexus and Mercedes among the cars on the street, and the excellent little SPARS supermarket, with a very French deli counter, ice, tonic, and rum in boxes similar to those in which wine is packaged. We wandered back to the dinghy agreeing we wanted to spend more time here. The dinghy area is along a channel easily identifi ed by a white footbridge connecting the village and the gas dock.
Our visit was cut shorter than expected when the wind shifted overnight and a smaller Swedish boat anchored on rope swung into us and bumped gently. We were off for Antigua in the dark at 5:00 a.m., sailing into a squall line that turned this passage into the most unpleasant of the trip. On the bright side, by 11:00 a.m. the weather had cleared and we picked up a mooring in Falmouth Harbor among the big guys. We went ashore to gawk and then meandered over to English Harbor and Admiral Nelson’s Boat Dock for cold beers at Copper and Lumber followed
by an elegant dinner at Admiral’s Inn. The next day the women caught a bus into Johnstown for shopping and John and I wandered the docks.
The following day was supposed to be an easy sail around the end of the island to Jolly Harbor, where we planned to refuel. But as we motorsailed our way around the long reef that runs west off Johnson’s Point, Ceci gasped the words no sailor wants to hear: “John, there’s smoke coming out of the cabin.”
John shut the engine down and went below, ruling out the refrigeration compressor and honing in on the diesel heat exchanger, which was leaking. A shark passed under the boat as we limped into Jolly Harbor. The good news was that John had once chartered here with Horizon Yachts and they were familiar with Beneteaus. Jerome, the mechanic, showed up at 2:30 and quickly identifi ed a cracked pipe, which he pulled off and headed for the welder. By a little after 5:00 p.m. the patched plumbing was back in place, much to everyone’s relief.
“I was already thinking about how to arrange alternative fl ights out of Sint Maarten,” John admitted.
I agreed. “I wouldn’t have bet a penny on having this fi xed in a few hours.” We took long-overdue showers on shore and had a nice dinner at Pete’s BBQ, despite a staff member who was engaged in a screaming family fi ght over the telephone. A stiff breeze blew all night and we anticipated a rough downwind seven-hour sail to Nevis.
The sail was fi ne and we picked up one of about 100 fairly new moorings off Charlestown, Nevis. Only nine were in use. Nevis was not fi ne. An island of only about 12,000 people, most of them clustered in Charlestown, Nevis had been hit by Hurricane Omar in 2008, knocking out resort properties including the premier Four Seasons and reportedly throwing about 600 people out of work. The Four Seasons reopened in December 2010, but our trip to the village revealed a place far different from the one John and Ceci remembered from their visit in 2003.
Our fi rst encounter was with a shore policeman who identifi ed himself as John, welcomed us warmly and then asked for our ship’s papers, which we were not carrying. A stocky cop with a beret and wide gap between his front teeth, John allowed that it was “a big problem” but he could fi x it. After leading us away from the crowd, we grudgingly made a cash
donation to John’s anti-gang program and promised not to tell anybody.
The downtown square gave me the uncomfortable feeling that there were too many guys with nothing to do hanging around watching the yachties. When we arrived at the Best Buy Supermarket we found John the cop watching us from the second floor balcony. I wondered if the fact that we had to walk past the police station en route had anything to do with his interest in our whereabouts. Back on the boat, nurse Terri observed that the other “nevus” is a large, hairy wart.
Although part of the same government structure and only a few miles away, the cruise ship port of Basseterre, St. Kitts could not be more different. We found a spot at the marina adjacent to the sprawling new Pelican Mall, where Customs is located among an abundance of bling purveyors that sent our shoppers into a trance. John and I preferred the guy who would send his three green monkeys crawling over our heads and, for a fee, allow a photo.
There was no longer a fuel dock in the marina and John calculated we could do without fueling. We had a nice dinner on the second fl oor balcony of Ballyhoo Restaurant on the clock tower square, which in the glow after sunset looked like the movie set for a Graham Greene novel.
The sail around the island and over to Gustavia, St. Barts was one of the best of the trip, a beam reach in 18 to 20 knots. It was Sunday and race week was getting underway, so Customs was jammed, the grocery store along the main street was out of ice and the only restaurants we found open were the busy Buccaneers’ at the far end of the mooring area and the very civilized Le Repaire on the quay where the fi ve-deck power yachts were backed in to allow the beautiful guests to board easily.
While some volcanic islands have hot springs that smell like sulphur, Gustavia smells of wealth and privilege. The shops along the harbor fl aunt names familiar to readers of the New York Times style section, but never seen in the local mall. In a fancy rum emporium I admired a bottle of golden nectar only to
learn it cost $600, and all the rums came from Martinique because St. Barts does not have a sugar cane industry.
When we rendezvoused for burgers at Le Select (supposedly the inspiration for the tune Cheeseburger in Paradise), even our dauntless shoppers were daunted. “I’m not paying those prices. I’m ready to get out of here,” said Ceci.
Still, Gustavia and its people are beautiful, and the red-roofed older buildings hint of the Swedes who settled the island and named the town after a Swedish king. Although the anchorage was packed with its share of fancy boats (we dragged on the sandy bottom and had to reset), the lingering memory is of watching the commuter aircraft that appear to be landing on top of passing cars as they drop in over the ridge to the airport.
In the morning we could see the outline of St. Martin in the morning haze. After 17 days aboard, the conclusion of the trip involved fi nding dock space at Bobby’s Marina in Phillipsburg, refueling and cleaning the boat for the couple who would sail it back to St. Lucia. We checked into the Holland House Hotel, savored long showers and wandered the pleasant shopping district to fi nd gifts for grandkids.
Our 320-mile voyage had made favorites of some of the eight islands along the way. For John it was hard to beat the selection of yachts to inspect at Falmouth Harbor. The shoppers liked St. Kitts and Phillipsburg. For me, the somewhat seedy but authentic Dominica topped the list, and the little village of Deshaies on Guadaloupe is defi nitely on the “someday I’m coming back here” list. So many islands, so little time.
