Day 1, Monday 13th
March
The forecast for the next few days is for light easterly
winds turning to headwinds before returning to the east and getting stronger in
places. If it were not for the fact that I’m spending $20 per day on the
mooring and $10 a day for the use of the Yacht Club I would wait until
Wednesday but I’ve had enough of that and have therefore decided to sail for
Cabo Cruz and anchor off until the winds return on Wednesday morning. I’m
taking a slight risk with the Cuban authorities because Cabo Cruz is not a port
of entry and I cannot therefore enter the country there. However, I plan to
anchor some way off behind the reef which should provide a comfortable
anchorage whilst at the same time being sufficiently far out to lend credence
to my ‘story’ that I do not intend to anchor in the event of being visited by
officials.
Checking out was a lengthy process mainly because I had to
wait almost 2 hours for Immigration to turn up. Customs were there on time.
Anyway, I finally got through the formalities around 1130 and said goodbye to
Renice, one of Sharon’s cousins who had kindly come to the Yacht Club to see me
off. His account of his life in Jamaica reminded me how tough it is out here for
normal folk.
It took me a couple more hours to get ready to leave; buy
fuel (I forgot ice) then get back to the boat and stow the fuel, the outboard
motor, the dinghy, check the engine oil, fill up the stern gland greaser and generally
get ready for sea. It was around 1330 by the time I was ready and it started to
rain quite heavily. I therefore took time to have some lunch – a bowl of muesli
and some fresh fruit and to ring Sharon. I dropped the mooring at 1400. It was
almost a flat calm in the anchorage off the yacht club which made it easy to
get out from amongst the crowded moorings. Once out in Montego Bay proper a
fairly fresh breeze east of north blew up and we were soon close hauled for our
way point at Cabo Cruz some 80 odd miles a away. The first few hours were good
sailing and we bowled along at around 6 knots under a gloomy sky. Jamaica
receded into the cloud bank fairly quickly. Just after dark the wind died and I
commenced what would be an engine on/engine off routine for the rest of the night
as the wind came and went. Given we only had 80 miles to go I knew I would have
enough fuel to motor the whole distance if necessary and have enough left for
getting into Cienfuegos. I would though need to sail the 180 miles from Cabo
Cruz to there. At the back of my mind was the possibility of anchoring off one
of the Cays we would pass on the way on Wednesday night.
At 1930 it started to rain and lightning was in evidence
fairly close by. Over the next couple of hours the rain became torrential, the
wind came and went but was never very strong and the lightning got nearer until
thunder was also close by. I was rather nervous about the lightning and the
prospect of being struck. I have met others who have suffered severe damage
from a lightning strike and I did not want that. I deployed my lightening
conductor (a length of heavy duty electrical cable clamped to the shrouds) in
the somewhat forlorn hope that it would offer some protection. Fortunately we
were not struck and we passed through the worst of the rain by about midnight.
It was absolutely pitch black, the full moon being blanketed by the cloud cover
(it later penetrated the cloud cover providing a very bright night despite
being unseen for a few hours). I was also worried about whether the tiller pilot
which I use to steer the boat when under engine would survive the incredible
rain. In 2015 when with Tony crossing Biscay before Angus was operational, the
then tiller pilot gave up and was pronounced beyond repair by the engineer in
A’Curuna. Then however we were in rough weather with a great deal of sea water
splashing over it too. However, I covered it with the plastic cover that Tony
made in 2015 and we got through the night.
I got so wet that I soon adopted the strategy of going on
deck naked. It was not cold and it was a dam sight easier to dry off rather
than strip out of soaking wet gear that also made me sweat. I found the absence
of clothes so pleasant that I remained stripped off for the rest of the leg to
Cabo Cruz, only donning some when I thought there was a risk of coming across
locals. The rest of the leg to Cabo Cruz was uneventful marked only by engine
on/engine off activity.
Day 2, 14th
March
The morning dawned bright and sunny for the most part and
Cuba was evident from first light. I dropped anchor behind the reef far enough
out from shore to I hope deter the local authorities from investigating. I
didn’t give enough credit to their can do attitude however. After tidying up a
bit I took a nap and was roused by the noise of a diesel engine. A very ancient
looking fishing boat was off Arctic Smoke towing a dinghy with two uniformed
figures in it. My heart sank but I put on a cheerful front, greeted them,
invited them aboard and set about explaining that I was not entering the
country but had just stopped to anchor to wait for the wind. I cannot speak
Spanish and they could not speak English but with the aid of drawings and
gestures I managed to get the message across. They looked at eachother and
discussed the matter and said it was OK BUT I must not go ashore. They clearly
thought I was OK because they left their drug dog in the dinghy. To show my
gratitude I provided beer and we ‘chatted’ for a while about family and dogs –
I showed them my Birthday card from Sharon featuring our two dogs and it turned
out that one of the guys had a chocolate Lab too. Then it was time for them to
go and I gave them another couple of beers to take with them. They were amongst
the friendliest most pleasant people I have ever met. Their attitude was even more
extraordinary when I realised that the fishing boat was nowhere to be seen and
that they would have to row the 3 to 4 miles back to shore. I’m pretty sure I
would more than a little grumpy, faced with that but they simply beamed said
their goodbyes and started the long arduous row back. Thank goodness it was
calm weather!
I’m going to chill out here for the rest of the day. Perhaps
I’ll take a swim off the boat to cool down – it is very hot and then have a
spot of lunch. I’m down to 11 cans of beer however!
Well I did go swimming and most enjoyable it was too. The
water is crystal clear hear, the clearest I have come across so far. I would
have liked to have gone to the reef but it’s about 800 metres away and I
noticed that there’s a bit of a current around the boat and so I thought I’d
better not risk it. I made do with snorkelling around the boat and inspected
the bottom. The water was very murky in Montego Bay and so I could not be sure
how god a job I had made of it when I cleaned it off on Saturday. Not great but
not too bad, mainly just patches of slime and bits of more serious growth here
and there. One yellow fish about 6 inches long had taken up station behind the
rudder and seemed intent on staying there. Apart from that I saw a couple more
but not much else. I swam over to the anchor where I had deliberately dropped
it onto a sandy patch and could see a few objects down there. It was 5 metres
down though and I didn’t fancy testing out my ears again so I stayed on the
surface.
Lunch was boiled eggs and tomatoes from the market. My
sailing guide to Cuba says that the authorities enforce the ban on fresh eggs
very strictly so I’m going to be eating a lot of them over the next few days.
There are numerous other food stuffs that are banned too but it seems as long
as one has them for personal consumption on the boat that’s OK.
Just as was starting my lunch the little ancient fishing
boat came over and one of the guys waved with two fish in his hand clearly
asking if I wanted them. With no fresh meat (and dam still no clear fishing
line) I signled yes. They anchored nearby and one of them swam over with the
fish). They were rather bigger than I first appreciated but …. I had some
America dollars and assumed they would be OK but they weren’t – the locals clearly
can’t use them and I got the impression
they would be in trouble if they had any. It took a while for me to explain
that I had no Cuban currency because I had not checked in. Then we were down to
exchanging. The poor chap wanted Cola but I had none. In the end he seemed
happy with a bottle of wine and two cans of beer (now my stocks are running
very low). Again he was a lovely chap and the whole conversation took place
with him hanging on the ladder.
I managed to gut the fish and get them in the fridge and
will have a go at cooking one tonight.
I’m cooking one of the fish now. Trying to copy the way we
had it cooked for us in St Kitts at the village barbecue that Mike took us too.
They cooked it in foil with oil and water and then on the barbeque. My version
has gone in the oven complete with chilli peppers. Finger crossed.
It’s a very dark calm night at 1930 before the mon comes out
and I’m writing this sitting in the cockpit while the food cooks with the noise
of the surf on the reef in the background and Muddy Waters playing on the Flip
speaker system, and I’m getting hungry so I hope I don’t mess up the fish!
Cuba is already living up to expectations and I haven’t even
got off the boat yet. The guys from the border control were great and so was
the fisherman who swam over to batter his fish. It already feels very
different from everywhere else I’ve been
in the Caribbean.
[At this point the timers for the fish and veg go off].
Well the fish was bloody marvellous albeit with perhaps a
touch to much chilli. I cooked it with the chilli, green peppers, spring onions
and rosemary from the market in Mobay for 30 minutes in the oven. Also from the
market “Irish Potatoes” and carrot cooked in the pressure cooker. Absolutely
wonderful. The only problem is I’ve now got a full cooked meal left over. I
hope I can keep it for tomorrow.
Back to Cabo Cruz. The lighthouse is flashing to port, once
every five seconds and earlier the boat was surrounded by what I think were
squid giving off intense floresenece as they moved about and seemingly some of
them were fighting with each other. I’m really glad I put in here and the
border patrol guys were good enough to let me stay. My only regret is that I
can’t go ashore to have a look around. Through the binoculars it looks to be a
small fishing village clustered around the base of the very substantial
lighthouse. My guess is that it was built in pre-revolutionary days. More
recently though they have invested in a number of navigation beacons to guide
boats in and they are lit too which surprised me given that the poor border
patrol guys had to row themselves around in a rather battered and leaky dinghy
and no, they didn’t have life jackets or radios! This afternoon there was a
couple more fishing boats out, both under oars and one of them was underway for
hours trawling – they went out at least a mile beyond the reef too. Life here
is clearly a pretty tough enterprise but if the few people I have met so far
are representative of the population generally they get on with it with great
cheer and not a hint of resentment. Perhaps Castro got something right after
all!
Now I’ve got to clear up after my cooking spree so that I’m
ready to leave at 0700 in the morning which is when I told the border patrol
guys I would be off. Not sure why I gave them such an early time but at least
that will maximise my daylight hours underway. I may have to motor to start
with because the winds are not due to arrive for a couple more hours after
that. The passage to Cienfuegos will include some pretty fresh winds from the
north. Hopefully, the seas won’t be too high given the relatively short fetch
from Cuba. I’ll probably go outside the string of Cays that we’ll pass on route
to avoid a lee shore. Anyway, updates to follow.
After doing the washing up I brewed some coffee in the
perculator, hunted out the last of the chocolate bought in the BVI (something
else I neglected to stock up on in Jamaica) – a jumbo pack of Twix and listened
to Howard’s Party mix of tunes in the cockpit under the full moon in the gentle
breeze. Absolutely perfect! I’ve been on my own a few days now and whilst it
was a particularly big wrench to say good bye to all the family at the Airport
and I while I do miss them all greatly, there is something particularly
satisfying and fulfilling to sail to such a different country on my own and
enjoy the peace and tranquillity of a deserted anchorage under the full moon. Of
course, I’ve only sailed one day and a night so far not exactly a marathon but
I’m looking forward to the rest of the trip with of course a degree of
apprehension.
I’m also conscious of the worry I’m putting the family
through, especially when as yesterday, I forgot to switch on the tracking
function on the Yellowbrick. I had set it to transmit every four hours but then
forgot to turn on the tracker. I did post a short message to the blog which
would have generated a position but didn’t realise my error until I posted my arrival
message. Sorry everyone, it won’t happen again. Thankfully Sharon understands
my compulsion and is strong advocate of living in the now – as she says, “you
can’t take it with you”. I’m increasingly aware that I’ve lived more years than
I’ve got left and Dylan Thomas’ line “…do not go gently into that good night…”
sums up my attitude at 60. My father died of a heart attack at the age of 56
and I want to make the most of the years he didn’t have. The idea of vegetating
in front of the telly and living through my kids and grandchildren is an
anathma to me. I don’t go in for celebrity or hero worship as a rule but I do
actually have a hero – I’ve never met Webb Chiles, 70 years young, currently on
his probably 6th circumnavigation in the super yacht Gannet – all 24
feet of her - and now heading for the Caribbean from St Helena in the South
Atlantic. There’s an outside chance we may bump into each other which would
make my day. Webb’s deeds and writings have provided a great deal of the
encouragement and inspiration for my own much, much, more modest ocean
wanderings. I can’t remember his exact words (I have no internet connection
here) which I am sure will be his epitaph, but they go something like “take the
risk do it, don’t worry if it’s going to kill you because something’s going to
kill you anyway”. I don’t have Webb’s absolute commitment to that credo but
it’s something to think about when doubt worms its way in. Perhaps I should say
for the benefit of family and friends that the above doesn’t mean I’m not very
concerned about staying alive. Is that a “cop out” Webb? Probably, but life is
of course full of contradictions ain’t it. Anyone interested in finding out
more about an extraordinary man should google “in the present sea”.
Anyway, enough introspection for now. Howard’s party tape
has just finished and I’m off to bed.
Day 3 – 15th
March
The wind backed into the North around 0400 and woke me up,
blowing at a good F5 for 20 minutes or so. This made me a little anxious
because the reef was now a lee shore rather than protecting us from the
previous light easterly wind. The anchor held however and the wind soon died
down to a more gentle F3. I had miscalculated a little because the wind was
not, as I had assumed it would be, blowing from Cabo Cruz but from the main
body of Cuba creating a longer fetch than I had anticipated. The boat rolled a
fair bit as a consequence but apart from that there were no issues. I
cat-napped for a couple of hours and then got up at 0600 as dawn was breaking
(and the sun rise over Cabo Cruz was quite spectacular) to make final
preperations for sea. I was expecting fairly moderate winds during the day but
20-25 knots over night and so I moved the reefing pennants from the reef
cringles 1 and 2, to 2 and 3. That meant I had to extend the reefing pennants
in order to hoist the sail right up. I must replace them with longer lines so
that there is no need to do that. They are wearing out anyway. All of that took
nearly an hour and then I switched on the engine at 0645 so that should
anything go amiss with getting the anchor up I could hopefully get out of
trouble. My concern was about the possibility of being blown onto the reef
between getting the anchor off the bottom and before getting full control of
the boat. I had the mainsail up which complicated matters but I thought that
getting it up whilst at anchor would be easier than once under way. I would
have to stow the anchor properly then anyway so one less job to do underway
seemed a good idea. I put the engine in slow ahead and went up to haul the
anchor in. We rode over it after a while and so I had to get into neutral in order
to drop back. I messed up a bit causing an accidental gybe but nothing broke
and I managed to break the anchor out without hitting the reef. Then we headed
out under main and slow engine with the tiller pilot steering whilst I stowed
the anchor. Then I unfurled the genoa and we were off in the direction of
Cienfuegos, 180 miles away.
To start with the wind was light as expected but it soon
blew up to F5 and the seas were steep if short. I thought perhaps the shallow
water contributed to that. By 0800 it was clear that AS was over canvassed with
waves breaking over her constantly and so I set about reefing the main – two
reefs and then the genoa – again two at first but AS felt under-powered and so
I let one back out and we got back to 5.5/6 knots at which speed she felt more
comfortable. As time went on the short seas gave way to longer ones as the
depth increased and we were able to come off the wind a little, all of which
made for a more comfortable ride. By then however I had already lost two full
cups of tea as boat matters grabbed my attention at just the wrong moment.
Finally, I managed to get a cup of coffee from the cup into me without mishap. By
1115 we had covered 20 miles – an average of 5k thus far, which is pretty good
going close hauled.
The wind eased around 1300 and I shook out the reefs and we
remained fairly close hauled on the starboard tack more or less on course for
Cienfuegos. By 1600 the wind was up again and so the reefs went in again – 2 in
the main and one in the genoa. The seas got up a fair bit too and it was pretty
wet outside so I spent most of my time below whereas up to this point I had
been able to sit comfortably in the cockpit on the lee side and read. We were
making very good progress however averaging 5-6 knots.
Day 3 – Thursday 16th
March
The first few hours of the night before the moon rose, were
as the others had been, very dark. The wind increased more too requiring a
further reef in the genoa. It was a little alarming careering along at 6 +
knots without being able to see a thing. I have seen only one other vessel
since leaving Cabo Cruz and I think it was a local fishing boat – one of the
few with an engine. Nothing at all has appeared on the AIS and I have heard one
short burst of VHF traffic. I made myself as comfortable as possible in the lee
berth in the Saloon and got up every hour to check the course and to look out
for other vessels. I adopted the tactic of stripping off completely down below
and just donning my soaking swimming trunks and life-jacket/Harness for the
forays out into the cockpit. On my return I would be soaking wet and so I’d
have a quick sponge down to remove the salt and then dry off with a towel. That
way at least I didn’t have to fight with wet clothes and wet wet weather gear.
Down below in the saloon it was reasonably dry. Thanks to
Chris’s stirling work with the Windows in Gran Canaria they did not leak at
all. The saloon hatch leaked a little as did the mast partners (where the mast
goes through the deck) but these were only minor leaks resulting in the odd drip.
[Correction on arrival at Cienfuegos I discovered my bunk was actually quite
soaked AND many of my clothes in the stowage behind it were too. I think the
source of the leak is as above but much more water was coming in than I
realised. It was I think running down the bulkhead at the head of my bunk and
then seeping into the stowage behind the bunk and down onto the bunk surface,
so soaking the mattress from below. A cursory inspection of the food lockers
above the bunk indicate they are dry and therefore I hope the cause is the
above and not the hull/deck join which would be a much more difficult job to
fix. I will have to inspect the lockers properly to be sure.]
It was a different story in the focastle however, the hatch
there leaked significantly and I discovered my newly laundered clothes on the
lee shelf were completely soaked. It’s a good job no one was trying to sleep
there. [Again on inspection on arrival at Cienfuegos, I realised the leak was
even more severe. The rear mattresses on both sides of the boat under the hatch
way were very wet. I’m particularly disappointed with that as I replaced the
hatch seal in Gran Canaria before we left. I obviously did not do a very good
job and will have to try again.]
I didn’t get much sleep during the night the boat’s motion
was quite significant and there were some very load bangs and crashes as we
came off the top of some of the bigger waves. Sometimes I thought some gear had
worked loose. Indeed on two occassions that was the case. The first was the lashings
securing the anchor. I managed to lose the dedicatedlashing I had made in Gran
Canaria, at Cabo Cruz somehow and therefore had to make another up in a hurry.
It consisted as did the original of a piece of line through some rubber tube to
prevent chaffing. The new one was a little short and worked lose so I had to
re-lash the anchor down just before dusk. At one point I was air-born! The
second incident was in the early hours of the morning when an additional
banging noise from the stern got me up. It was the spare gas bottle lashed on
the stern flapping about! I dashed out quickly to secure it before it broke
away completely. The only other significant night time incident was being woken
from a brief period of sleep by a change in the boat’s motion followed by a
crash. We had just gybed which was rather odd given that we had been sailing
almost close hauled. I noticed that Angus’s wind vane was pointing directly
behind us which was the cause of the gybe, but how on earth had that happened?
Fortunately nothing broke and I managed to get back on course pretty quickly.
Later I concluded that a wave must have hit the vane causing it to turn.
The wind continued strong up until now – 0915 – when it
seems to be easing. I may have to shake those reefs out again. We have 62 miles
to go to a new Way Point just outside the bay in which Cienfuegos is situated
and we are currently making just over 5 knots with an ETA of 2100 tonight. It
will be dark of course but the pilot says the approach is well lit and the moon
should be up by 2230. Anyway, I’ll decide nearer the time about what to do.
Well the wind did continue to ease and I did shake the reefs
out around midday the wind also backed quite a bit resulting in us not being
able to lay our Way Point off Cienfuegos. The forecast I got before leaving did
however predict the winds fall to around 5 knots and rise to around 25 knots
mainly from the NNE/NE during the course of the passage depending on time and
location and so I was reasonably confident that it would veer east of north at
some point so we just continued sailing reasonably close hauled on a westerly
heading for a few hours. By 1630 the wind died to almost nothing. By this time
we were some 40 miles from the entrance channel to Cienfuegos Bay and despite
the short passage I was getting impatient to get in and therefore on went the
engine again. Within an hour the wind was back and a pretty brisk one it was
too (F5/6) from the NNE and so the engine went off and two reefs went in the
main and one in the genoa. At this point I noticed it was once again a bit of
struggle to reef the Genoa. I had to juggle with the reefing line repeatedly
letting it out a bit and then in to overcome it jamming. Looking up at the bow
it appeared that the reefing drum may have slipped again. Something to
investigate once in Cienfuegos.
Once I had the sails set the next thing was to replace the
tiller pilot which I use when motoring with Angus. The operation is a fairly
simple one; re-attach the wind vane to Angus, disengage the tiller pilot from
the tiller and replace it with the chain joining the two lines that are
attached to Angus and set the wind vane to the required angle. Disaster struck
immediately. I placed the large vane on the top of Angus, did up the big
custom-made bronze wing nut that Chris made (to make it easier to release and
tighten) and let go of the vane. It immediately fell over-board into the sea!
Lots of swearing as I turned the engine on and frantically furled the Genoa
whilst trying to keep the vane in sight which thankfully was floating. It’s
made of a frame of plastic tubes covered with that stuff that car window sun
screens are made from and is silvery grey. With the sun on it from the bow it
was reasonably easy to spot but once the sun went behind me it merged into the
background colour of the sea and disappeared from sight. If it had been one of
the smaller plywood vanes which I also have I would have let it go but I only
have the one big one and it’s essential for light winds so I really needed to
recover it. After about 4 passes involving a number of barely controlled gybes
I finally managed to grab it from the cockpit as we slid past. I was of course
painfully aware that falling overboard in the process would be rather worse
than losing the vane and therefore I hung on grimly with one hand as I leant
over the toe rail sandwiched by it and the life lines and grabbed it with th e
other. Phew that was close! But why did it fall off? The threads had stripped
from the bronze wing nut, that was why. By now it was near dusk and I needed to
get Angus operational. The batteries would not sustain the Tiller Pilot
throughout the night and in any case I doubted that it would cope in the rising
winds. I thought I might have some ordinary wing nuts of the right size but
could not find them from amongst the contents of my nuts and bolts box that
were quickly strewn across the cabin sole. Fortunately, I did have some nylock
knuts of the right size and so used one of those. Not ideal because a spanner
is required every time one needs to attach or remove the vane. I’ll have to
make a more thorough search later but in the mean-time the nylock sufficed.
This time I attached one of the smaller plywood vanes.
There followed a few hours of very fast (for Arctic Smoke)
fairly close hauled sailing at around 6-7 knots in the pitch black once again.
Hard on the wind AS will only pull around 4.5 knots in these conditions but
just a couple of degrees off the wind she goes like a train. I had put a second
reef in the Genoa shortly after sorting Angus out but we still had water
regularly breaking over the foredeck. Despite that and the occasional crashing
as she fell into a trough after a big wave, AS felt ‘comfortable’. [That’s as
in for a little boat in boisterous weather rather than with one’s feet up in
front of the fire!] I suspect that a lot of the water that found it’s way
though the fore-hatch and the mast partners did so during this period.
By 2100, it was all change again and the wind had died to
nothing and the sea was almost flat. As mentioned before with the wind coming
off the land only a few miles to the north, there was a fairly short fetch that
both prevented the seas getting really big and allowed them to subside quickly
when the wind died. We had 17 miles to go and I thought that perhaps that was
it as far as the wind was concerned and so being on my own I decided to take
advantage of the calm conditions and stow the mainsail as well as furl the
genoa. I was slightly worried about the latter jamming up completely again and
thought I might as well furl it now in the benign conditions. In the event it
furled easily. We continued under power for the next 2.5 hours even though
after one hour the breeze had returned from the NNE. It was partly laziness and
partly my concerns about the Genoa furling mechanism that led me to power on
for so long. Eventually however the increased wind from in front of the beam
and the bigger swell slowed us down to 3.5 knots. Still laziness prevailed and
rather than hoist the main and the genoa, I left the main stowed and unfurled
the Genoa. We were immediately making 5 knots in the right direction and I just
hoped I could furl the bloody thing when needed.
By 0100 on Friday morning we were immediately of the
entrance to the channel leading up to Cienfuegos Bay. I had seen one ship come
out heading for Jamaica as we approached (the only AIS contact of the entire
passage) but otherwise ‘the coast was clear’. [Ever wondered where that phrase
came from?] We proceeded up the starboard side of the well lit channel. The
moon had been up for a few hours by now and it was just about high water
locally and so I figured there should be little ebb tide to worry about.
Apparently it can flow at up to 4 knots which would be too much for Arctic
Smoke to make way against in anything but the flattest of water. As it turned
out everything was fine. It did feel a little surreal entering a very foreign territory
like Cuba in the dead of night. I had as directed by Sailing Guide to Cuba,
tried to raise the authorities on the VHF but had not got a response. I was not
that surprised given the time but nevertheless did feel slightly nervous that I
might suddenly be spotted, taken for a suspicious vessel, and be boarded by
rifle sporting Cuban Frontier Guards intent on stopping a second ‘Bay of Pigs’
incident. The USA’s ridiculous and notorious attempt to over-throw Castro in
the 1960s took place just around the corner in what remains a prohibited area.
Just why the Cubans feel it necessary to prohibit access after all these years
is a mystery to me.
Of course nothing of the sort transpired and the only
incident was being hooted at by an incoming tug behind me that I had failed to
spot. She also bathed us in the glare of her search light for a minute to make
sure I got the message. I moved AS over into the shallows on the starboard side
of the channel as quickly as possible and the tug and the tow passed without
further ado. Just before I had noticed a neon light bobbing up and down on the
edge of the channel close to our intended track. I altered course to avoid it
(which is what put us in the path of the tug) and as we got closer we appeared
to be passing a couple of old women wrapped in shawls against the cold (more on
that shortly) sitting on a battered settee). It was quite surreal. Eventually I
figured out that I was looking at the stern of a fairly small open boat (say 7
metres) with a canopy and seat athwartships on which sat two fishermen/women(?)
facing the stern and fishing as their boat either drifted or lay to an anchor!
On the subject of the temperature, it was for the second
night in a row, decidedly chilly. The previous night I had had to dig out extra
layers and don wet weather gear for the first time since the Atlantic crossing.
I also experienced the bizarre sensation of being swept by a breeze that felt
both warm and cold at the same time, although the cold was the more prominent.
It was a bit like in the swimming through warm then cold patches in the sea.
The wind was from the north east and I figured was in part connected with one
of the notorious cold fronts that sweep down from the USA land mass at this
time of year is why sailing the south coast of Cuba is less demanding than the
north. I was certainly very grateful that there was no lee shore to worry
about. I was indeed very fortunate to have such favourable conditions in which
to make my landfall and enter port. Despite the sailing guide emphasising that
a night time entry was entirely straightforward (qualified by warnings about
the possible strength of the ebb, the shoals on the west bank across which the
ebb flows and unlit docks half way up the channel), in anything other than such
conditions, I would have had to stood off and waited for daylight. Even so, as
mentioned the experience of the passage up the channel in the dark was quite
strange. For the first time since leaving the UK, I was experiencing what I can
best describe as ‘a rite of passage’. The phrase is not usually applied in such
a literal context, but I can’t think of a better way of describing how it felt.
In reality, our arrival at Mindelo, in the Cape Verde back in December was an
arrival at an equally foreign Port, but I was not on my own then. The mind
plays more tricks on its owner when he’s on his own in the dark approaching a
foreign land through a narrow sea-way after spending a fairly demanding 36
hours at sea in quite a small sailing boat. In my mind, the shadowy shapes of
shanty town shacks, distant chimney stacks belching sooty smoke and murky docks
on either side of the channel, had more in keeping with a bygone Graeme Green
novel when Castro and Kennedy played poker with the highest possible stakes, than
with the post Castro era and (hopefully) Obama’s Perestroika.
Objectively, however the transit up the channel and across
the bay to the anchorage off the marina was entirely straightforward – almost
plain sailing one might say. I dropped the anchor at 0240 on Friday morning. My
passage from Montego Bay Jamaica to, Cienfuegos, Cuba was over and I wondered
what the daylight would bring.
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