First Mate Blu Arrives
[21:14] [Friday, December 29, 2006]
In the morning took Iggy ashore so he could use the internet. I told him I would return in 20 minutes but when I arrived back to the boat Tanya and I assessed what needed to be done to prepare for Blu's arrival. We emptied the V berth in its entirety to address the mildew issue due the leaking hatch. It's amazing how fast mildew can take hold within just a couple of days. We Tilexed the interior and foam to the cushions then oiled the wood. By the time we had finished cleaning and organizing the boat for the 4th crew member, 6 hours had passed. We returned to meet up with Iggy to find that he had a great time on his own exploring and relaxing by himself. He was red-eyed, slurring, and he had picked up a sway to his swagger and the sun had not even set yet.
Blu arrived at the airstrip at 6 pm and we celebrated Sol Searcher's complete crew at Fido's with Lobster Fritters, Fish, Belikins, rum punches and Mayan Dragons. I told the waitress if she made them good I would remember her at the end of the night. She returned with our drinks and by their colorful, fufu appearance it looked like they would be suited for the rich old lady tourist from the states but their potency was for burly bikers. When we sipped at these concoctions we would wince as if in pain. We finally swallowed our pride and asked the waitress to bring us some juice so we could actually get these drinks down.
We stumbled to the dink and motored back to the boat after a fun night of food drink and live music.
No News == Good News
[21:00] [Thursday, December 28, 2006]
Spent our day getting some essentials done like laundry and just chillin' on San Pedro.
Captain's Note / Synopsis
[10:29] []
My original plan was to provide a daily log with our position, conditions and stories of the day but that plan changed. Why? We have experienced a difficult crossing and my time has been consumed with trying to find and hold a course for our destination, maintaining the boat and addressing problems when they arose, and they did.
Here's a summary of "the adventure" thus far:
Day 1: Dec 15, 06
We were duped into believing we were in for an easy Gulf crossing by a beautiful sunny day and light winds from the East. As we motored out the Port Aransas jetties the Gulf was near glass with light rolling swells. We were energized and glad to finally be underway.
As the night wore on into the early morning the seas began to churn and so did our stomachs. Hmmmmm... what could it be? Igor refused to accept that he could get seasick and blamed our queeziness on the Bosnian Beef Jerky he brought along. My opinion is we were feeling motion sickness and not Bosnian Mad Cow Disease.
Days 2-5: Dec 16-20, 06
Our fist destination was to be Isla Mujeres 123ยบ to the Southeast but our winds were coming directly from that direction so we pointed the nose of Sol Searcher as close as we could to the wind and had 2 headings we could make good, one to the East Northeast and the other to South Southwest. We tacked day and night making a track that resembled stair steps or connected descending Z's into the gulf. Heading the boat so cose up into the wind it was a rough ride with 4-6 ft seas so we decided to not reach so close into the wind but that put our headings at either Northeast or Southwest! Several days of ramming into waves and shoveling mass amounts of water with the bow, a leak developed in the V berth hatch. When we finally noticed the V berth, it was too late. All its contents (mainly Igor's clothes) were drenched and appeared as if they had gone through a good martini shakin'. After a few days of this we began to calculate distance and time it would take to cross the gulf, round the Yucatan Peninsula and meet First Mate Blu in San Pedro, Belize, by the 27th of Dec. It was becoming apparent that we would not arrive in time and we began to weigh our options.
Option 1: Continue tacking across and hope for change in wind direction
Option 2: Change our destination to Progeso, to the Southwest, refuel and motor to Isla Mujeres.
We opted for Progreso.
Day 6: Dec 21, 06
We motored in on fumes left in the tank. As we approached Progreso, we noticed a sea turtle circling on the surface. We steered for the turtle and as we came up to it I noticed a net was cinched around its shell and had been slowly severing one of his flippers. We circled him several times with boat hook and knives in hand attempting to cut the net away but everytime we tried he would dive down making our efforts fruitnetless. Low on time and fuel we gave up the rescue mission. Night set in and we tried to find the lights guiding our way into the channel for mas fuel. The skyline was awash with light and soon we found ourselves approaching a row of lights that we thought were for some sort of navigation, but we were mistaken. As we approached close to one of the lights an unlit skiff zoomed up to us in the darkness and we heard, "Aye yatcha nyuet!!!" I asked Tanya and Igor, "What he say??" and their reply was "I dunno...". So I yelled back to the lil skiff following us in the darkness, "No habla Espanol!". Again, "Aye yatcha nyuet!!! Aye yatcha nyuet!!! Aye yatcha nyuet!!!" Now I was feeling under pressure and a sense of urgency so I asked the crew again, "What the fuck is he saying???" With mutual shrugs I replied even louder, "No habla Espanol!!! No habla Espanol!!!" We passed the light and as we did I looked and noticed the same lights in a line parallel to the shore and realized we were motoring through a long fishing net. That's when it hit me: he was yelling "I gotta net!" We had gone too far and continued foward making sure we were free and nothing wrapped around the prop, and I exclaimed, "That's for the turtle, fucker!" We arrived to the fuel docks about 10 pm and enjoyed showers and a calm night's sleep.
Day 7: Dec 22, 06
The woman who ran the fuel dock arrived at 7:45 am. I greeted her with my most eloquent Spanglish, "Buenos dias, senora. Aqui para diesel y agua por favor." She said something which after having her repeat in several different ways I with a mix of Spanish and her grasp of English I figured she was wondering if we had cleared into the country. I replied "Por favor Senora, no entrada Mehico. Diesel y agua, no mas. Por favor Belize by Feliz Navidad?" She was hesitant but allowed us to refuel and depart without doing the mexican paperwork cha cha cha. My interactions with her and the man that helped us fuel were with smiles, lots of gracias's, por favor's, and Feliz Navidad's. I tipped both and we were back into the gulf by 8:30 am. We did not get to restock on Progreso's world-renowned soups.
The day started off excellently but the night became extremely rough with us now directly into an East 20knot wind, 1 knot current and waves that were building to about 10 feet. We pressed on, plowing into waves and wind.
Days 8-9: Dec 23-24, 06
More of a beating from the sea and everyone is exhausted and irritated. Around 2am the engine suddenly died. Changed 2 fuel filters and by 4am had found the priming bulb to the main fuel tank had clogged as well from sediment and slimy jelly-like growth that seems to flourish in diesel fuel. The beating the boat had taken over the last few days had loossened crap from the sides and bottom of the near 30 year old tank and was clogging the fuel path. With fuel line cleared and engine back up and roaring we pressed on to round the Yucatan Peninsula by the morning.
Days 10-11: Dec 25-26, 06
Around 1 am we reached the horn of the Yucatan and the winds finally changed in our favor. We turned off our engine and sailed all the way into Isla Mujeres, Mexico, by 8am. To be Tied up at such a beautiful port and weary of the past few days it was difficult to just refuel and take off again, but that's what we had to do. Crew and myself were a bit saddened by not being able to take advantage of a potential break and relax but we were now in a race (to meet our First Mate Blu in Belize by the 27th) I termed, Operation: Blu Rendezvous. We motored out of Isla Mujeres by 9am, passed Cancun and were headin South into the Caribbean. We had been receiving weather forecasts via Igor's satellite phone from both of our fathers and were aware of an approaching Norther packing 30knot winds. We reefed in both sails and awaited the onslaught. At 3:30 it hit with a force that we had not imagined. Winds howled and waves began to build rapidly. We were now sailing downwind at 7 knots with 20 foot waves racing past us. The waves would raise us to their summits and we would for a few seconds surf their crest. We were officially wind surfing a 31 foot 5 ton vessel and the load she took on her sails, rigging and structure was a concern. I could hear the lines grow so taut they creaked like a rocking chair. I would occasionally pluck them with my fingers and was nearly playing a bass' low E string. The entire boat made sounds that I had never heard her make before. What was happening was the load on the sails was warping the fiberglass structure to such a point that the wood interior and bulkheads that are laminated into the fiberglass were having to adjust themselves to the boat's new shape. I have never been in such conditions and for the first 7 hours I weighed our options, watched how the boat reacted and prepared for sudden changes in direction of waves and wind. The long watch was stressful and tiring, and I finally let go my position to allow myself some rest. Igor took over and we continued to "go with the flow." Although this continued for over 2 days, we had no incidents on the boat and she has established herself once again as truly being seaworthy, and so has the crew. Both Tanya and Igor rose to the occassion to fill their roles as mates to allow us as a team to complete this grueling leg successfully.
Day 12: Dec 27, 06
The Norther passed us as soon as we reached Ambergris Caye, Belize, and dropped us off at the front door to San Pedro like a we were a butterfly in the wind. We motored carefully in to the cut in the reef and dropped anchor at 7:45 am in a calm protected anchorage. We are spent and now will catch up on missed sleep and recup our malnourished bodies. As for God... he is always with us and he has adapted just as we have to our changing conditions. Sometimes he is an exact reflection of the crew emtotionally and in personality. Operation: Blu Rendezvous was a success in that we arrived in plenty time to meet First Mate Blu, but because we were uncertain, 2 days before we rescheduled him to arrive the 29th. We await his arrival and in the meantime we situate ourselves in our new home.
Special thanks to my and Igor's fathers for their help in weather forecasts. My mother and father for their assistance in getting Blu rescheduled. To Dave who is with us in spirit and in music, thanks for the great tunes dude! To Priority, looks like I owe you guys a cell phone, sorry! To my crew who have proven themselves beyond expectations and most importantly to Sol Searcher, who delivered us safely to heaven.
We will post more once we feel like sitting in front of a computer again.
Tanya and Igor have written some great posts of their own along the way. You can find Igor's personal account at his own blog: igorilla.blogspot.com.
A belated Belize Navidad to all...
The Moment of Truth
[21:38] [Wednesday, December 27, 2006]
We entered the cut in Belize's Barrier Reef at around 07:00 AM, something like twelve hours sooner than we originally predicted upon departure from Isla Mujeres. Strong norther' winds and some crazy-X-treme sailing brought us into the San Pedro anchorage at a decent hour and with plenty of free time to ... well .. relax.
The past twelve days were taxing beyond belief, and spending the morning lazily preparing the boat for possible inspection, flying our yellow quarantine flag in no hurry whatever was a pleasant change. Even the cat could not help but tumble around the boat with a certain spring in his step of the sort that seems to say, "Finally, we are on vacation!"
The team headed to the island to check into Belize with way more prepared than was absolutely necessary. We waited in line to get our passports and ship's record stamped longer than it took us to actually fill out the right forms and have some casual conversation with our customs officer. Oh, and did we mention we didn't pay a dime in entry fees? Such a feat is virtually unheard of in a boater's world of cargo taxes, overtime fees, application fees, port captain pay-offs and the like. Our customs officer's casual air and good news made the happy start to our stay in Belize just that much happier.
Waiting for the last member of our crew, Blu, to arrive (he's due on Friday), we're all sitting back with Belikins in hand and fresh Caribbean fish in our bellies, being lazy in a way we thought we'd get to be from the very beginning. The journey across the Gulf and Caribbean was exhausting, but so far our efforts were well worth it.
Absolutely Fabulous
[16:05] [Tuesday, December 26, 2006]
I am inclined to step out of my narrator's boots, likely to the chagrin of my Captain. I feel as though my range of emotions over the past couple days have been rather different than my shipmates', so I will refrain, for the moment, from labeling them as ours. They are mine.
We left Isla Mujeres yesterday morning with topped-off fuel tanks and high hopes. We expected a norther' to blow through at any moment and looked forward to sailing downwind for a change. The storm came through a little sooner than forecast -- about 03:30 PM -- and we found ourselves ahead of some 25-30 kts wind.
I should say first we have already dealt with some pretty rough weather on this trip. Barreling into waves built up by 25 kts gusts has tended to put me in a panic of the sort the Captain sentences me below decks for. Listening to a wall of water more powerful than any amount of reading could have prepared me for slam into the side of the boat has set my heart racing, my mind reeling, and my knuckles white as my hands clench around whatever they can get ahold of.
Watching a wall of water some 20 ft high roll behind and then under the boat was -- is -- quite a different experience. I know for certain the Captain spent the better part of last night weathering the storm in a state of severe worry. Neither he nor this boat have been tested in such weather, and I understand the anxiety caused by resting your life in the stability of a 30-year-old vessel. A vessel that has so far seen her fair share of problems over the past ten days.
Still, nestled in my foul weather gear under the dodger, I had every confidence in our old girl. The autopilot performed beautifully despite the constant rocking motion brought on by the waves rolling under us, and while I can't claim I wasn't a little nervous -- there is something about 20 ft of surging water that sets one's nerves on edge -- I was also a little excited.
The spectacle was all the more fantastic during the day. Each time the wind seemed to die down just enough our ride would be that much smoother, the boat went skidding across the top of a wave ... think extreme surfing. Foam surging up around the port side corner of the stern shifted from the cobalt of deep blue water to a brilliant turquoise ... waves breaking over themselves glinted a glassy green in the day's summeresque sunlight. The sea is terrifying -- as the Captain says, humbling -- but it is also so, so beautiful.
That is really what I want to convey here. A little over a year ago I stood impatiently on Sol Searcher's bow, clutching the forestay and gazing over Aransas Bay, attempting to understand how sailing could be anything but boring. Over the course of the year I have grown steadily more excited about this "adventure" across the Gulf of Mexico. Nothing prepared me for what I've experienced. I have been scared, I have been thrown around by rough seas and taken on my fair share of bruises, I have cursed up a storm preparing coffee in the mornings, I have grudgingly tried to prevent the catbox from getting out of hand ... I have been blown away by the sheer vastness of the ocean, and I cannot get over how clear, how blue, how beautiful it is.
Not that I wouldn't mind a hot shower, a double tall hazelnut mocha, some chocolate chip cookies and maybe even a little satellite television. But neither do I mind the salt in my hair, the perpetual smell of men who need a bath (don't we all, though), the involuntary rolling about in my bunk when I drift to sleep, or the chill I endure when sprayed by a rogue wave in the cockpit. I am still set very near panic when the headsail sheet sproings tight with an angry gust of wind ... I am so tense my neck and shoulders hurt ... but I think, folks, I might also be falling in love.
Battery Drain
21°50'42" N 88°20'48" W
[18:06] [Sunday, December 24, 2006]
When we departed from Progresso yesterday, we felt recharged. A good night's sleep, showers, full tanks and great weather heralded a fresh start for this bedraggled crew. As the water shifted from a crayon-bright turquoise to rich cerulean moving toward cobat, though, we realized our battle had not yet been won.
The wind picked up to 20 kts with 25 kts gusts blowing right on our nose, and the water began a steady journey to dangerously rough. Sol Searcher climbed up 8 to 10 foot waves ... and launched into the air off their backs. Our evening was rough and tumble, to say the least, but even as night fell and the weather calmed -- as though it took pity on our weary souls -- we could not hope the worst had passed.
At 07:45 PM, the engine stopped. Jarred by the sudden quiet, the Captain rushed into the cockpit, but our worries were, for the moment, unfounded: Sol Searcher had been running hard for nearly 12 hours on her 12 gallon auxiliary tank. Switching to the main fuel tank, the team rotated watch and settled in for a dark but -- so we hoped -- uneventful night. Catching a glimpse of a yellow Cheshire moon in an otherwise pitch black sky, we should have known better.
The engine quit again at 09:30 PM. Cursing in true sailor's fashion, the Captain opened the engine hatch and pumped the fuel line clear of air to no avail. Wet and frustrated -- by this time rain had started -- he set about changing the primary fuel filter (which didn't seem to be clogged), and after a little coaxing, the engine started back up.
And died again at 01:00 AM. Stumbling around in a haze of stress and exhaustion, we rounded up the work lights, tied open the engine hatch, removed the steps in the main salon, and took a deep breath.
First, the Captain bled the fuel line of air. No go. Then, he changed the secondary fuel filter. No go. Despite being thrown around by our rocking boat in rough water and continued frustration brought about by our string of problems, the crew weathered this last disruption without outbursts.
In a fit of what we can only call genius (survival brings out the best in all of us), the Captain removed the priming bulb and discovered our problem: its valve had clogged with sediment from the main tank, blocking the flow of fuel to the engine.
How long we had not been addressing this issue is anyone's guess, but clearing the valve and re-bleeding the fuel line ressurected our motor and lifted weight from our shoulders. The night progressed with not-so-gentle rockin' and rollin', but the engine is running beautifully. Knock on wood.
We are nine days into a crossing we should have finished in seven, and, damn, are we tied. From the very start Sol Searcher has weathered rough seas, missing wind, engine problems, fuel shortage, busted bookshelves, leaking hatchies, an overflowing bilge ...
We would say, "Belize or Bust," but this crew has long passed bust and crashed into a defiant course forward. If our constant frustration has done nothing else, it has sealed our fate as a team. There is also one very bright, very pink ray of hope as we near the Yucatan Channel, but for fear of jinxing an already-cursed voyage, we will wait until it's over to name that hope specifically.
