On Tuesday, March 25, as we were getting ready to leave Klein Curacao, a pod of small dolphins swam by close to the stern, providing a wonderful photo opportunity. Our departure was delayed when I accidentally dropped the boat hook overboard from the bow as I was getting ready to release us from the mooring ball. Peter was able to locate it about 50 or 60 feet below the starboard side but was unable to free dive that deep to retrieve it, and getting the snuba ready would have made our start too late, so we abandoned it as flotsam.
The sail to Bonaire was pleasant. As we approached, we contacted the port authorities and learned that Epicurus exceeds the maximum boat length for the mooring balls. Anchoring is prohibited around Bonaire since the surrounding waters are all included in the marine park, so we had no choice but to go to a marina. Peter had heard about a place near the center of town in the capital, Kralendijk, where sailboats could tie up stern-to but he couldn’t remember the details. We decided our only choice was to go to Harbor Village Marina, which charged $1.85/foot for dockage. Unlike in the U.S., water and electricity are almost always extra at marinas in the Caribbean, so it cost over $100 a night just to tie up to a dock and have showers.
We all walked into town, passing the small dock Peter had heard about from yachties in Venezuela. We spoke with the owner of Bonaire Nautico Marina, who told us we were welcome there and the cost was $7 a night, regardless of size! What a deal! Although the upscale marina was pleasant and more protected from waves and surge, we preferred Bonaire Nautico not just because of the price but because the location was more convenient to town and the owner was such a nice man.
The four kids and I watched a huge cruise ship casting off and leaving port from the North Pier as Peter cleared customs, and we found the supermarket and bought some more bread, juice and other items while he went to immigration. We had not had a proper lunch while sailing, and it was already after 1800 hours, so we selected a restaurant on a pier over the water for dinner (Karel’s). The sunset was gorgeous, the ambiance was relaxed, and the food was excellent. The Rudd boys, almost always energetic, initiated a game of tag on the walk back to the boat, which kept our kids from lagging and complaining of being too tired to go on.
On Wednesday, March 26, we took our time getting ready—all of us enjoying proper showers in the marina restrooms. It should have been a smooth departure, and I decided to take the helm. However, with Peter directing and scrutinizing my every move (and not deploying the running fender at the port stern corner as he was supposed to), I messed up following his instructions rather than doing what I would have done on my own and managed to crush the boat into the dock, displacing the chalk but otherwise causing no damage.
We smoothly docked at Bonaire Nautico about 15 minutes later. Large parrotfish and other fish were abundant all around the boat in the perfectly clear water. After a bit of school and lunch, we all took off in the dinghy for a nearby snorkeling spot where we saw fish large and small including drums, a moray eel and a goldspotted eel, not to mention a reclusive scorpionfish, which I approached closely to point out to the others, not realizing that it has venomous spines. We had never seen one before in the Caribbean. Swimming back to the dinghy, Peter and I saw another fish which was new to us, and we identified it as a whitespotted filefish. We are putting Humann and Deloach’s Reef Fish Identification for Florida, the Caribbean and the Bahamas to good use. I love to return to the boat and leaf through the colorful pages to read again about all the fish I have just seen. In Bonaire, there are nearly every type of parrotfish, tangs, surgeonfish, angelfish, butterflyfish, jacks, grunts, trumpetfish, cornetfish, snappers, damselfish, basslets wrasses, blueheads, cardinalfish, squirrelfish, gobies, flounders, snakefish, trunkfish, triggerfish, goatfish, barracuda and drums—and these are only the ones that I can readily identify!
That evening, we went to It Rains Fishes, the restaurant across the one-lane road which runs along the waterfront, but were told that reservations where needed. We made them for the next evening and walked a block or so along the waterfront to La Guernica, a tapas restaurant, where we were seated in a pleasant corner on the verandah, the children enjoying the cushioned seating arrangement. The food was even better than what we had eaten the previous evening, and the three boys shared and feasted on a variety of tapas. After the main course, we all had delectable deserts, beautifully presented. That night, the boat rocked gently in the small waves and we ignored the horrendous off-key karaoke singing emanating from the bar on the pier to the south of us and managed to sleep well.
We took two trips in the dinghy on Thursday, March 27, to snorkeling spots further north. (Actually the Rudd boys kayaked to the second spot, but we towed them most of the way back.) At the second place, we encountered a large tarpon right by the mooring ball. It was the largest fish we have ever swum with. As usual, there were plenty of colorful parrotfish, which delight the kids.
We just managed to get ourselves ready for dinner at 6:30 and were seated as the sun set in glorious strata of vermillion, orange and gold. After ordering, we passed the time playing a game of Pass the Pigs. Once again, the food was excellent. After dinner, Henry entertained us on the dock with his lighted poi balls.
Peter went to customs and immigration to clear out and I made a trip to the store for pastries for breakfast on Friday morning, March 28. As we were finishing our meal, we were boarded, as were the other boats at the dock, by the Coast Guard, doing routine inspections. Then the kids did a bit of school work while we got the boat ready for departure to Curacao. Just before leaving, Peter walked the few blocks to customs to retrieve our flare guns, which they retained as weapons during our stay (the first time that has happened). We had a pleasant downwind sail to Curacao, sometimes sailing wing-and-wing, although swells made it a bit difficult to keep the sails both full dead downwind.
En route, the Rudd boys and Peter made another attempt to catch fish, with no luck. After we dropped anchor in the same place in Spanish Wells from which we had departed four and a half days before, we ate grilled cheese sandwiches and chicken noodle soup—nourishing but not nearly as exotic as dinner the previous three nights.
On Saturday, March 29, Katya accompanied Peter into Willamsted to clear in with customs and immigration. William and Henry finally had some success catching small fish from the stern of the boat but decided they were not keepers, so we ate pasta again for dinner.
Sunday, March 30, was the last day the Rudd boys were with us. A few final games of chess were played and they had a last paddle around the bay. With their fake letter of permission from their mother stating they were authorized to travel without adult supervision, they left with Peter for the airport. The authenticity of the document was questioned but they made it through to their flight, although they sent word back to Peter, who was waiting outside security, that they were being detained—an early April’s Fool joke!
We stayed anchored in Spanish Waters for another eight days taking care of ordinary tasks such as boat maintenance, laundry (that had piled up for three weeks and took three afternoons to do), grocery shopping and homeschooling. (We have been really good about keeping up so that we can be finished by the end of May.) The kids took windsurfing lessons for four days and did quite well. Matthew is much more enthusiastic than Katya and kept going after the lessons were over until he had blisters on his hands. Peter also got in a few hours of windsurfing, although he was wounded the first day when he stepped on a sea urchin. We returned a couple times to the sunken tugboat to snorkel during that week. Matthew and I spotted an octopus, but it disappeared before we could point it out to Katya.
We had planned to leave for a return visit to the island of Bonaire, which we fell in love with, on Monday, April 7, but we decided to wait until Tuesday for a moderation in the wind velocity and a decrease in the sea state. Also, we needed to make a trip into Willemstad to buy a new camera. On Sunday, while Peter was in town clearing out at customs and immigration, I took the dinghy out to take photographs of the kids on their last day of lessons. Since I wasn’t going far and wasn’t expecting to get water in the dinghy, I didn’t put the camera in a ziplock bag. I managed to zip around and get a lot of pictures without getting the camera wet. It would have been fine except for our rescue of a disabled windsurfer who had pulled a hamstring and been pushed around the point into our anchorage where he couldn’t be seen by the windsurfing school staff. I put the camera bag in the forward locker to keep it from getting wet before we pulled his board and him on board. What I didn’t take into account was the fact that the additional weight and the maneuvering through the waves to get him on before he ran into a rocky lee shore pushed down the bow, allowing water in to the locker. When we got back to Epicurus, I found the camera bag half-submerged in salt water.
I rinsed it off with fresh water but was afraid that water had gotten inside the outer casing. At home, I know where the tiny Phillips screwdrivers are, but not on the boat. I had no way of contacting Peter, so I got on channel 72 and hailed anyone in the anchorage who could help me. In anchorages such as Spanish Waters in Curacao, there is a great sense of community among the transient cruisers and someone is always monitoring the radio. I had an immediate response and made a quick dinghy trip to another boat to borrow tools.
I left the camera open to dry until Peter returned. We were able to get it to work well enough to download from the memory card, but the lens will not stay open. The little motor whirrs but nothing happens.
Luckily, Willemstad is a large port and caters to the cruise ship industry as well, so we were able to locate a number of stores with cameras at reasonable prices. We had just about decided on one but thought it better to discuss the options over lunch. Then we got side-tracked on an unproductive detour to the “Free Zone,” an industrial area where Peter hoped to find a booster for the wireless internet connector. (He did find one after we got lost a time or two, but it was quite expensive and not water-resistant, so we didn’t buy it.) When we returned to lovely downtown Willamsted and went to the upscale jewelry store where we had decided to purchase the camera, we were told that they had sold the last two models. The manager said she would check one more time. She made a call and then said that she would be right back. She left by the front entrance just as I was exiting to take the kids down the street to a store where they had found PlayStation2 games. I noticed that she was headed for the electronics store that also had the camera we wanted. But she came back and said that our choice could not be found in the storeroom. So, we went to the electronics store, run by Indians (as was the jewelry store), and they made a call to the storeroom and, what do you know, they had the newer model! It only cost a little more! Since the two stores are in buildings that are within the same block, we assume that they are owned and operated by the same extended family of merchants and found the charade of trying to locate the camera quite amusing.
We had a nice sail to Kralendijk (coral dyke), Bonaire on Tuesday, April 8. We are still amazed at the speed we can obtain with only two headsails even when heading up into wind. We had thought we might have to stop again at Klein Curacao, but we made it all the way under sail to the dock at Bonaire Nautico in less than nine hours. Peter and I celebrated by feeding the kids chicken nuggets and leaving them to amuse themselves with their new video games on the boat while we had a quiet evening out by ourselves at a lovely little place called La Flamoyant. The food and the service were excellent!
It is so pleasant to be in a place that is safe. We don’t close up the boat and lock ourselves in at night and we leave the dinghy in the water with the engine still on board. Also, this little city has about everything you could want, including internet and an abundance of great, small restaurants. There are two grocery stores within a few blocks of the waterfront. The water is pristine; the sky is bright blue; it is hot but not too hot. We jump off the side of the boat and find fish we have never seen before every day. The coral is healthy and the visibility is superb.
We stayed on the dock, along with a boat from Italy and one from South Africa, for three nights. The couple from South Africa came over for drinks on Wednesday evening. The woman is suffering extreme anxiety attacks and is not able to handle the uncertainty of sailing. So much depends on the weather, the seas and nothing breaking on the boat! It’s difficult to predict when you can get to a destination and almost impossible to know if the supplies you need or want will be available at the places you visit. In places such as Venezuela, the value of world currencies fluctuates unpredictably. They had found their American dollars worth a lot less than we had encountered just a few weeks earlier. Since the rand is not a strong currency, they are traveling on a limited budget, so the stress of worrying about having enough funds is compounding the anxiety about the day-to-day future. The wife is ready to give up. I can sympathize; Peter has noted that I have become quite relaxed compared to a couple years ago about uncertain itineraries. I feel so fortunate that I don’t have to worry about whether we can afford food—only if we can find it! We also can afford luxuries such as restaurants and kiteboarding and windsurfing lessons and marinas—not to mention the upcoming trip to Disney World, which is now only seven weeks away. (The kids are counting the days.)
Fancy power fishing boats from Curacao have long-term leases for the slips at Bonaire Nautico Marina and use them on the weekends, so those of us who enjoy the easy access to town and the absurdly cheap daily rates have to vacate the premises on Fridays. We learned that the maximum boat length for mooring is not really enforced, so we are now on a mooring ball not far from the dock—close enough to still pick up the internet! While picking up the mooring line, Peter dropped the boat hook over the side this time! Luckily, the new one floats!
The depth at the bow is about 20-30 feet and greater than about 60 feet at the stern, and we can see to the bottom clearly. Literally hundreds and hundreds of fish are directly under our keel! Although we have to dinghy the short distance to the dock to get ashore from here, the advantages are there are no mosquitoes (which we consider only a minor drawback on shore) and the decibel level of the music from the parties at the restaurants and bars south of the dock at night is significantly decreased so getting to sleep is easier.
Saturday morning (April 12), we dinghied over to Klein Bonaire, a large uninhabited island, part of the marine park. We pulled up on the soft, white sand and walked as far as we could in one direction. While Katya (who does not seem to enjoy snorkeling) and Matthew explored the shore, Peter and I snorkeled, drifting with the current back to the spot where the dinghy was. We found the most enormous blue parrot fish we had ever encountered and a vast array of colorful coral. All along Bonaire, the sea bed slopes down from the fringe reef at about a 45 degree angle and is covered with live coral as far as the eye can see (which is quite far). Matthew joined us as we finished, but it was impossible for him to swim against the current, so he and I walked back along the beach and snorkeled the length together. Surprisingly, fish often stay in about the same place, sometimes for days or weeks or forever, so we were able to find the large parrotfish again easily. After Matthew finished his exploration with me, I swam along the same length of the reef one more time. This time I spotted a white-spotted file fish in its striking orange phase. Matthew and I saw one yesterday as we were snorkeling close to shore, and I saw a mature one twice its size a few days ago under the dock. The wonderful thing about snorkeling is that it is possible to find new things all the time and still encounter eels and some types of fish exactly where they were before, even days before.
Peter and I snorkeled from the boat to shore in the late afternoon. There is a little reef just south of us by shore that has an abundance of fish. When we got back to the boat, once again I found fish I had not seen before. A large school of creole wrasse was around the hull. I learned that they are often seen around drop-offs in the late afternoon, where they spawn daily. These purplish-blue fish have a dominant deep purple mark around their white lips and yellow on their lower rear bodies.
In the evening, we went in to the dock to see what fish had been caught in the fishing tournament. The largest, which was being cleaned and cut when we arrived, was a 159 pound yellow-fin tuna. Since we were on shore, we walked around and found a little restaurant called Bobbejan (baboon), which had a simple menu and excellent food. My gado-gado was wonderful. After dinner, the kids and Peter had ice cream cones on the waterfront.
On Sunday, April 13, the kids worked on writing assignments. (I give them homework on the weekends now to get them used to real school life.) I did laundry and Peter took apart one winch to clean and lubricate it. (A dozen more left to go!) I snorkeled over to the reef in the afternoon. Bonefish dug their snouts deep into the sandy bottom, feeding, If presume. Two large pale-striped trumpetfish, one reddish and the other yellow, floated vertically, their translucent tiny anal fins fluttering. Pipefish or sennets glided just beneath the surface of the water. The fat green moray was still in his usual place, nearly hidden, wedged under a ledge. Spotted and smooth trunkfish wandered about individually. The dusky damselfish Peter had spotted yesterday was still defending its tiny purple eggs. Angelfish, butterflyfish, cardinal fish, wrasses, parrotfish, grunts sergeant majors, snappers and many other types of fish in adult and juvenile stages roamed the reef. I started looking more closely at the smaller fish and identified a juvenile yellow and white puddingwife with its distinctive bluish-black spot on its mid-back extending onto the dorsal fin as well as the beautiful little juvenile clown wrasse with clearly delineated stripes of black, yellow and red from snout to tail above a brilliant white belly. On returning to the boat, I looked for the creole wrasse but found instead a school of brown chromis, which have a round black spot in front of the base of their pectoral fins. Their dorsal and forked tail fins are trimmed in bright yellow.
Today (Monday, April 14), it was back to school work and trying to retrieve the autopilot from the bureaucratic quagmire of customs. UPS has now promised to deliver it tomorrow. We’ll see!
Peter and I used the snuba this afternoon to go 40 or 50 feet below the surface off the stern. At that depth, there are bigger fish and bigger coral formations as well as giant sponges. The rich lavender tube sponges grow in bunches up to four or five feet high in places, and everywhere there are brain corals, star corals, cup corals and other varieties. Peter also used the snuba for it intended purpose on the boat, to clean things on the bottom. He scrubbed the barnacles off the propeller today.
We returned to the dock before sunset, mainly to get shore power, water and internet access on both computers (The older Dell couldn’t pick it up on the mooring ball even though the Apple had no problem.) and to be at a place where the UPS delivery man can find us. It’s quiet in town tonight so far; there is no loud music at all.
So, life is good here and we will stay until the autopilot is delivered and Peter repairs it. Unfortunately, the autopilot is not repaired since the shop in Canada couldn’t duplicate the problem. We hope that they have sent the spare parts and circuit diagram that Peter requested with our autopilot so that Peter can isolate the problem and fix it himself. I don’t want to even think about the possibility of sailing without crew for a few days and nights to the Greater Antilles without an autopilot!
We have to be in Georgetown in the Bahamas by the second weekend in May to pick up Peter’s cousin Desmond, who will be joining us for a week. We are all looking forward to his company in the Exumas.
Every time I go up on deck or look out one of the windows from down below, I am stunned again by the clarity of light and the beautiful color of the water. I wonder if people who are here for a long time (or for life) ever get used to it or take it for granted.
