A Mid-sailing interlude

 In which we take a break from sailing and go house-sitting instead.

I am now writing in April 2023 and realise that we are in danger of losing our memories of adventures past.

In 2017, I (more so than Elsie) felt that we were getting into a rut and wanted to know how we would move on when the time came to stop living on Ruby.  To take an extended break using short-term lets would be very expensive; to stay longer, most places in the U.K. are let unfurnished and, although we had stuff in a container on Elsie’s brother’s farm, removal expenses would be high for a, maybe, three month stay.

Elsie was part of a Facebook group for women who sail.  One of her friends from the group got a summer gig looking after a lighthouse and associated island in Maine.  We visited them there.  In discussions, it came out that they also occasionally looked after people’s homes and pets and the thought was lodged.  On our journey back South that year, we were in a peaceful anchorage at the top of Chesapeake bay and, browsing the internet, we came across Trusted Housesitters.  This was an organisation that matched home- and pet-owners with travellers who wanted somewhere to stay.  The price for joining was small and the initial application process fairly easy so, over sundowners, we went through it and got ourselves registered.  The following evening we talked about how we could experiment with the concept.  A look at available sits revealed one in Bethesda, just North of Washington D.C. that looked ideal. A long weekend in a condominium, with easy Metro access, looking after an elderly retriever.  We applied and were stunned to get an almost instant reply.  The owner ‘knew’ that as we, like her, were sailors we would be practical, responsible types.  A brief chat and the sit was arranged for a couple of weeks’ time.  We knew of a safe anchorage in Annapolis where we could leave Ruby and made plans.  A few days before the sit, Susanne contacted us to say that she had changed her mind and that was taking her dog with her but we could still stay in the condo if we wished.  We did.

I was due a trip to the U.K. to see my cancer specialist, which meant leaving Elsie on Ruby.  She decided to see if there was a sit where she could stay for some of the time.  There was, in Alexandria, to the South of the City.  We arranged to meet up with them while at Susanne’s and had a great day exploring the Smithsonian Air and Space, where Fred was a docent (volunteer guide for non-Americans).

We now had a plan of how to manage a prolonged stay in the U.K., now it was just the details.  While wintering in the Bahamas, we got fully certified by Trusted Housesitters and started to make detailed plans.  We needed somewhere safe to leave Ruby.  Our insurance required her to be North of 35 degrees N throughout the hurricane season from June to November.  Chatting with sailing friends discovered a well recommended yard in Oriental, North Carolina which just happened to be 2 miles North of that line.  We booked Ruby in for the period of mid-May until early November. 

On arrival at the yard, we found the owners a bit distracted.  They, a sailing couple, who had lovingly built up the business, had sold up to a younger couple from New York who knew a lot about motor boats but not so much about sailboats.  Never mind, most of the staff were staying on so we were sure that Ruby would be in safe hands.

Oriental is a wonderful little town that seems to be mostly populated by people who have washed up on its shores and decided to remain.  Friends from the Ocean Cruising Club allowed us to use their dock for a couple of days on arrival.  Walked to the local store, where they didn’t have everything we needed.  No problem, borrow their bikes and go to the ‘Piggly Wiggly’ supermarket, who will deliver free of charge.  We were introduced to Anne and Nev, Port Captains for the OCC and sailing legends.

Ruby safely ashore and closed up for the duration, we hired a car and drove up to Washington D.C. where Susanne allowed us to stay in her Condo again.  From there, a bus to NYC and another out to Newark Airport, to fly to Edinburgh.  Here, we got the first of several good car hire deals.  Europcar awarded me a loyalty bonus of 3 extra days free  on a weekend hire, which enabled us to  our first  U.K. sit at Bridge of Earn in Perthshire, looking after 4 rescue dogs.  We were also able to catch up family in the area.  Hertz had a surplus of cars in Scotland and charged us £1 for a one-way trip from Edinburgh to Heathrow with sufficient time and mileage allowance for us to visit my sister in Yorkshire on the way down.  From Heathrow, we got a very cheap deal on a nice little Mercedes for a couple of weeks, giving us time to buy a car of our own. 

Our first English sit was just South of Alton (and Lasham Gliding Club), looking after a Bernese mountain dog, a couple of cats and  several hens.  The dog was a gentle giant who padded happily over the local footpaths.  One of the hens, who Elsie christened Pricilla, was a right character who would follow us around, even into the flag-stoned kitchen, and comment loudly on our actions.

Elsie with Priscilla

  

We searched for, and found, a suitable car – a 10 year old Jaguar X-Type estate.  It was based on the Mondeo at a time when Ford owned the marque, but was much more nicely appointed.  From Alton to Wellington in Somerset, looking after a Dachshund, a cat and several fish in a medieval mansion in the early stages of restoration.  From here, we were able to visit some of my cousins and also made trips out to Cheddar Gorge, Glastonbury Tor and the Helicopter museum at Weston-Super-Mare.  South to Axminster, Devon, looking after a retriever and a few hens.  We enjoyed walks along the coast; not so much the narrow Devon lanes.  West to Penzance.  First to a rural barn conversion with a Newfoundland dog.  From here we explored Penzance, Mousehole and Lands End, with obligatory Cream teas at each stop.  A few miles East to a more suburban sit, with Highland Terrier and cat, from where we were able to catch the bus into St Ives and spend a happy afternoon browsing galleries and choosing artwork for our forever home, whenever we might find one.

Cream tea

North next, to Glossop in the peak district of Derbyshire, looking after 2 dogs and 2 cats.  For a change, my relatives came to see us.  My sister and family came over from Holmfirth, and my Brother, sister-in-law and niece, Katrina, stayed with us for a couple of days.  We took a day out to Chatsworth and had a good look round the house and gardens. Katrina stayed with us a few more days and we led her astray by taking her out to a Wetherspoons on a Friday evening, and a pub with upstairs venue where we were entertained by a local rock band the following night.

Chatsworth

Back South to Bentworth, near Lasham, staying in another medieval property, this one very much restored.  Two of everything:  Two Welsh Terriers; two lawns: one for tennis and one for croquet; and even a choice of dinner service, Spode or Wedgewood.  I was invited to crew on a classic yacht on a day race from Cowes and leapt at the chance. A couple of weeks later, I crewed on her taking her back to her home near Ipswich.  A wonderful experience.

Sailing up the Channel on a classic yacht.

From here I was able to indulge in a little gliding.  A little further South to a glorious barn conversion with two equally glorious pointers, one smooth, one rough haired.  They required lots of exercise and we gave the two walks per day; six miles in the morning, four in the afternoon.  And that was just us.  The dogs must have at least doubled that amount running all round us and occasionally further.  The family we were sitting for were cricket fanatics, with a library lined with Wisdens going back to year dot, an 80 inch TV and sports subscriptions.  I had managed to get tickets for a test match at the oval later in  the year and was pleased to be able to introduce Elsie to the game.  We hadn’t taken to baseball much the previous year with our 4^th July visit to Yankee stadium and I was a little concerned that she might find it boring.  Not at all.  There was a test series on and, between walks, we watched and I introduced her to the differences between a sill mid on and a gully; a yorker and a ‘wrong un’ and a deep square leg and a third man.  By the end of the third day, she was criticizing field placements and encouraging the bowler to bowl a proper length.   We went down to Southampton to cheer on Hampshire in a Twenty20 match.

Away from the South coast, we headed up to the other St Ives, in Cambridgeshire to look after a small dog.  This sit had been chosen for its proximity to another gliding club, Saltby, where the National Glider Aerobatics Championships was taking place.  We had a day to spare before it started so had a nice stroll round Cambridge.  

Cambridge

Fred and Starla, our hosts at our first proper sit in Alexandria were over and drove down from Edinburgh.  We spent a couple of days at the airfield together, where I was invited to judge part of the competition.  They returned to Scotland and, a couple of days later, we followed, staying for a night with Elsie’s brother and sister-in-law in Fife then on to a sit in Crieff.  Fred and Starla joined us again here and then over the hills to the Dee Valley, staying in a charming country Airbnb. We were joined by Jill,  an old friend from Lasham, who stayed in her campervan. 

On Saturday, we all went to the Braemar Highland Gathering to watch the games in the presence of The Queen and Prince of Wales, among others.  There was lots of music, dancing and games including the traditional ‘Heavies’. There was a lad from Aboyne competing in this class, so we started cheering for him.  So loudly, that the commentator noticed and gave us a few mentions.  The following day, we found ourselves within walking distance of Crathie and attended the morning service.  Elsie and I went in;  Fred and Starla elected to wait outside and actually see the Royals arrive.  We dropped Fred and Starla off in Edinburgh and headed South.

Our next sit was in Brixton, South London.  We dropped our car off at Jill’s house, near Lasham, and headed off, by taxi and train to London.  Our first night was at a convent (yes, really) just round the corner from the sit as it was in a one-bedroomed flat and the owners were leaving early the next morning.  Our companion for the week was a characterful house cat, Tigger.  He had a favourite perch, on the windowsill at the rear of the property, watching the goings-on in the car park behind.  We joined him from time to time and could probably have passed useful information to the police, had they but asked.  We ate out the first evening at a local pub.  It being mid-week, we were amazed at busy everywhere was until we realised that we were opposite the music venue, Brixton Academy, and there was a concert about to start.  Fortunately, some kind young people offered up their seats for us to eat.  Looking after a cat means being able to leave the home for long periods and we took advantage of this to visit several galleries including Dulwich and Tates Modern and Britain.  We even went to an evening concert at St Martins in the Field accompanied by a favourite cousin.  The big thing, though was the Test match. Our tickets were for the 4^th day of the last test at The Oval.  I had warned Elsie that it might be a bit flat as 4^th days are frequently characterised by one side trying to stave off defeat by defensive batting while the other sides bowlers suffer from exhaustion.  However, it was a novel experience and we were determined to enjoy it.  A week before the day, I was informed that an operation that I had been waiting for could finally be done.  On a specific date.  The day of our test match tickets.  Jill nobly stepped into the breach and offered to accompany Elsie while I flew off to Scotland.

It was, of course, the best day of cricket for years.  The popular English captain, Alistair Cook was retiring, so this was his last ever test and he only had to wipe his brow to earn a round of applause.  England were in the ascendency and won the final test and the series.  Jill and Elsie both had little radios so could follow Test Match Special and were conveniently seated close to a bar serving Pimms.  Meanwhile, I was in an Aberdeen hospital bed, following the match by text.

Ruby was safely above the insurer’s definition of the hurricane belt.  Unfortunately, no-one told the weather gods. We had been following hurricane tracks for years, ever since we first contemplate crossing the Atlantic.  Now, we could see a nasty one predicted to coast in somewhere in the Carolinas.  We watched more closely.  The prediction got worse.  Florence was increasing in strength and forecast to make a direct hit on Oriental.  The outer banks would protect it from large swells but, as well as the direct action of strong winds, they would be blowing from the North East down Pamlico Sound and creating a storm surge.  The boatyard stood about 4 feet above normal water level.  We guessed that Ruby, on her stands could take about 4 feet of water before it lapped against the bottom of her hull.  All we could do was watch and wait. The storm hit on the evening of September 13^th.  The area was evacuated, so we had no-one to talk to.  The town’s website showed webcam pictures of rising water and storm damage.  Then it went off the air.  All we had left was the automatic water level gauge.  By late evening, it passed the 8 ft mark and was still rising.  It finally peaked at over 9 ft around midnight.  It was another 48 hours before we heard from the marina.  Ruby was safe.  Although they had suffered a lot of damage to fittings and equipment, the only boat that suffered was from its stands being knocked away by rogue telegraph pole which had washed away from a storage area the other side of the river.

Water level

Approaching storm with Oriental arrowed

From London to Cornwall, looking after 2 small dogs in a house high on a hill in West Looe.  To access it, we had to negotiate 3 hairpin bends, one of which required a 3 point turn.  It was worth it for the views.  We were also able to do some sight-seeing, with trips to the Eden project and the North coast to visit the village where Doc Martin was filmed.

Eden Project

Doc Martin's surgery

Also, we caught up with West country cousins.  One at a ploughing match, where he was officiating,  and others who came to visit us.

Ploughing match

A last visit to Scotland, for me to visit my surgeon and my children.  Elsie took a day out to catch up with an old school friend.  We were staying in Inverbervie, on the Angus coast, looking after 2 miniature schnauzers who enjoyed coastal walks.

Children

Our last sit of the year was in Sussex, handy for Gatwick airport and our plane back to the States. One small dog to look after.  I advertised our car for the same price we had paid and, within an hour had 3 replies.  Daftly, the day before I had topped off the fuel tank so, at the agreed price, the new owner  had £70 of diesel thrown in.  We had hired a car from the airport and, on November 6^th, we flew back to the States and Ruby.   

 

 

Elsie writes

Well it’s now the middle of July and neither of us have written anything in the blog since May. Why? I hear you shouting. Well…….

On the 1^st June we made a hard breaking but we think necessary decision. Ruby Tuesday is for sale. It has taken a lot of thinking, talking and decision making but surprisingly no arguing to make this huge jump. But it is done. We have spent June emptying, cleaning, polishing and generally sprucing up Ruby. She went on sale on Tuesday July 1^st. The heat has been horrendous and most of the work has had to be done in the early morning with huge breaks as the day gets warmer. Breaks that the pair of us have wandered about in silence, thinking, occasionally voicing our thoughts and I have to say doubts as well. As we emptied her of all our lives over the past five years, we have both been reduced to tears at finding some forgotten item that holds some far and distant memory. At that point, we look at each other. We don’t even have to ask the question. We know what the other is thinking. “Are we doing the correct thing?”

The thought process that has led us to this decision has been long and complex. I (Elsie) have fallen out of love with long distance sailing. A few nights on passage is fine. At the most, five days I can hack it but what’s the point in putting yourself through something you aren’t enjoying. When we embarked on this adventure, we both said that if either of us are not enjoying it anymore we stop sailing. It turns out Lionel wasn’t fully engaged anymore either. He has voiced his doubts on several separate occasions. The work to maintain a 40-foot yacht is long and arduous. It takes a lot of time and if you are relying on the boat as full-time cruisers do it must be done. I saw the frustration on his face when he realised it was time to change the oil and filters on the engine again or the head pipes needed another clean. Even simple jobs like refilling the cooking gas or finding somewhere to do laundry was getting us down.

The pandemic didn’t help either. We were stuck in one place for so long. We are used to moving every couple of days, doing some sailing, doing some walking, doing some sightseeing. I think a month in Key West when everything was shut was the last push. Then of course going round Hatteras in the conditions we faced in May was the ultimate straw that broke the camels back. We could have kept going, east coast in the summer, Caribbean in the winter but we were both getting bored with it and to go through the Panama Canal and sail over the Pacific was out of the question. Lionel would have needed to get crew for each leg and I would have had to fly here there and everywhere so we said “the end” and Ruby is up for sale in Annapolis MD. She is looking fantastic, all painted, polished, cleaned inside and out, all her upholstery renewed, her engine serviced and her sails looking like new. All we need now is the right person to come along and love her the way we do. Here’s hoping.

We fly back to the UK on 5^th August then we do our two weeks in quarantine. A lovely lady is letting us self-isolate in her home while we look after her dogs and rabbits. Her house backs onto a wood so walking dogs while in isolation should be easy and thank goodness for supermarket delivery people. Yes, it’s back to pet sitting while we look around for a place, we can call home. Lots of pet sitting, all over the world. Don’t worry, we aren’t giving up the travel malarkey, just doing it on dry land now. However, if someone invites us for a day sailing or needs crew to move their boat, I don’t think they will get a negative answer. So, August, September in the south of England, while we look around for a home then off to France and Spain for the Autumn, Winter if there is no further outbreak of COVID19 then back to England to sort out our home and do some fun stuff. What next…. watch this space because we haven’t got a clue either…………………………

May 2020

We arrived in Lake Worth, Florida on the 1^st May.  The anchorage was pleasant enough, though not of our usual preference, and we worked out where we could go ashore for shopping, etc. but we wanted to make progress up the coast so, when an opportunity arose 2 days later, we took it.  We left our anchorage mid afternoon on the 3^rd and headed out into a NE’ly F3.  Theoretically, this should have veered round a couple of hours later, to enable us to head back out into the Gulf Stream on the starboard tack.  As on our previous passage, however, it stayed resolutely from the direction that would allow us to either parallel the coast or head at right angles to it.  Not wishing to repeat a mistake, we continued on the port tack and, even though our heading was south of east, within 5 miles we were tracking well north of it.  By 22:00, we were in the core of the stream and tacked round with over 3 knots of push.  The wind looked like it was going to be favourable to take us all the way to Beaufort, North Carolina, which would put us within a few miles of our target of 35 North, required for insurance cover after 1^st June.  The only problem was an area of forecast thunderstorms, which might overtake us before arrival.  We watched this carefully and, as we approached the point where the Gulf Stream makes a right-angle bend to the East, made the decision to continue in a straight line and head for Charleston, South Carolina. We arrived here, with an hour to spare before sunset on the evening of the 5^th.  Even with some very light winds, this was our fastest ever passage, making 370 miles in 49 hours giving a speed over the ground of 7.7 knots.  Elsie’s morning watch on the 5^th achieved 61 miles in 6 hours all in calm seas.  If only all sailing were like this!

We motor sailed up the entrance channel, or more exactly, just outside it as it is very busy with large cargo ships, and dropped the anchor off Fort Johnson.  We stayed here overnight and then motored the couple of miles to a busier spot, opposite the municipal marina.  Expecting it to be fairly busy, I deliberately chose to make the move on the ebb, so that I could see how everyone else was lying.  Unexpectedly, there was a large clear spot and we were able to anchor with the nearest yacht 25 metres astern but well to one side and a smaller one 15 metres further, directly astern of us.  Dinghy launched and off for a good walk, shop and Uber back to the dinghy dock.  By now the current had changed to the flood. As we motored back to Ruby, I couldn’t see the small yacht, which should now be about 40 metres ahead of us.  Horror – as we approached, we saw that it was actually alongside and, with a poorly maintained rubbing strake, taking large chunks out of our gel coat.  Her anchor rope was underneath Ruby.  Not wishing to cut this with our very efficient rope cutter, I just used our rudder to swing us back and forth.  The first attempt was unsuccessful and, as we had towing insurance, I called for a tug.   After several further attempts, we managed to separate and we heaved up the anchor.  As it broke surface, we could see that we were fouling the other yachts anchor rope, but managed to drop this without too much difficulty.  We decided to move back to our previous anchorage but, as we started to manoeuvre, there was a large vibration from the propeller.  As we were drifting clear of other boats, we re-anchored, waited for the tug, and got him to tow us there.  We managed to get the number for local divers and they agreed to come out early the next morning.

The diver found nothing, apart from a slightly loose anode on the saildrive, which was tightened.  A quick engine run showed no significant vibration, so we considered job done.  We dinghied ashore and had a pleasant walk along the shore and back through the centre of town.  Nagging doubts remained, however and on Friday, we picked up anchor for more engine trials.  This time, the vibration was much worse.  Had the anode broken loose and was it flapping around?  It seemed unlikely that it would cause so much of a problem but I called the divers again.  They couldn’t come back until Monday morning.  We spent the weekend doing not very much, although I did go for a 6 mile round trip walk to a hardware store for some bits and pieces.  Elsie, meanwhile, had cut up a large slice of water melon and marinated it in rum.  This made a delicious, though rather potent, substitution for ice cubes in our sun-downers.

 

Sun-downers with added kick

While waiting for the diver on Monday morning, I contacted a boatyard and made arrangements for a further tow to take us there.  This was a good precaution as the diver found nothing further.  She removed the anode, on the unlikely possibility that it was the cause of vibrations, but no.  So, it was a 12 mile tow past Charleston and up the Wando river to the City Boatyard.  We would not be permitted to stay on board, while Ruby was out of the water and we checked that hotels were operating.  They were unable to lift us that afternoon, so we stayed on board that night, making a provisional Airbnb reservation for the following night. 

 

The prop shouldn't look like this.

As soon as we were lifted on Tuesday morning, the problem was obvious.  The two blades of the folding propeller were at different angles to the hub.  Closer inspection showed that one of the teeth which should keep them synchronised had been sheered off, possibly by excessive lateral force from the other yacht’s anchor rope.  While the boatyard is far from cheap, the staff proved their worth by tracking down a replacement propeller (unfortunately in Sweden) and getting estimates for this and repairs to the gel coat.  Since we were obviously not going anywhere for a while, we confirmed our Airbnb and booked for a week.  It was a 2 mile walk, mostly along a busy highway, but it gave us some exercise.  On Wednesday, I returned to the boatyard, to do some hull cleaning and arrange some other jobs.  Elsie walked the other direction for some shopping.  Unfortunately, finding the propeller was the high point of the yard’s efficiency and I spent the next week project managing.  Constant driving meant that we were ready to launch the following Thursday (even though I had to fit the new propeller myself – management had forgotten that the engineer had a day off).  Back in the water at 16:00, away at 17:30 and back at anchor at Charleston at 20:00.  We needed to do this as the last weather window to proceed east for at least 10 days was closing the following morning.  It was not going to be great sailing but, if we didn’t go, we would either be stuck where we were or have to motor up the ICW.

 

An early rise on Friday 22^nd saw the anchor up at 06:00.  We had following winds most of the way to Charleston but they were light and, to avoid running into head-winds, we had to motor sail a lot of the way but it was better than going up ‘the ditch’.  We were not alone in this judgement as we saw at least half a dozen other yachts following the same path.  There was a choice of anchorages on arrival.  We could enter the river and stop opposite the coastguard station, which is safe but not scenic and gets a lot of passing traffic or continue another 5 miles to Cape Lookout Bight, which is a large, almost totally enclosed lagoon.  We had been here a couple of times before and there were usually a couple of other boats but there were deserted beaches and plenty of room.  There was no immediate hurry to move on, so we opted for the latter.  As we approached, on Saturday evening, Elsie called that she could see some masts already there.  ‘I can see six, no, eight’, ‘more’.  In fact, as we rounded the spit, I counted 34 sailing boats and 8 motor yachts, not to mention a couple of shrimp boats.  Some of the yachts were those we had travelled with; some were flying the ‘Q’ flag, so had presumably just arrived from the Caribbean but most were locals.  We had omitted the Memorial Day public holiday from our calculations.  Never mind, there was plenty of room and we found a surprisingly large space to anchor, celebrating our arrival with ‘Dark and Stormy’ rum and gingers. 

 

On Sunday morning, at 07:00, we discovered the reason for our large space: we were on a direct line between the entrance and the markers for Barden Inlet, a popular fishing area, and the locals, in their speedy boats were heading for it, seemingly at 20 second intervals and doing 30 knots.  We rose, picked up and moved out of the firing line, which reduced traffic a bit but there were still a few close passers-by.  As the day progressed, the picnickers arrived and the beach was fringed with dozens of motor boats disgorging the hoards.  We elected to stay on board.  Although Monday was Memorial Day, it seemed that the shops would be open, so we headed into Homer Smith docks, catching the morning tide and tying up at 11:00.  There is a courtesy car but it was busy, so we walked the mile-and-a-half to the Piggly Wiggly supermarket for a few supplies, returning for lunch. Later in the afternoon, our wonderful OCC port officer, Dianne, visited, bearing her usual gift of peanuts and we arranged that she would pick us up in the morning to take us to breakfast at a local restaurant.  Around her visit, Elsie managed a couple of loads of laundry, rejuvenating our saloon cushion covers.

 

We were joined at breakfast by Nicky and Reg, from Blue Velvet, who updated us on their adventures over the winter.  They had managed to get down as far as Honduras before lockdown and seemed to have made the most of being some of the few guests in what was normally a busy tourist spot.  It looked as though there would be a weather window for us to depart on Wednesday morning and go the outside route round Hatteras, so we let go at midday and headed back to the Cape Lookout, having a nice beam reach on the way.  A re-check in the morning showed that we should have SSE 20 knots, gusting 25, pretty much all of the way.  This was a bit more than ideal for the 70 miles between the Capes of Lookout and Hatteras, where it would be on the beam, but well within Ruby’s capability. We put 3 reefs in the main and headed out at 0900.  At first, the winds were lighter than forecast, though there was a larger swell than we had expected.   This continued to build to over 4 metres and, with the wind increasing to 25, gusting 30, made progress, though rapid, very uncomfortable.  Once past Hatteras, we were able to come round to a broad reach and the swell reduced, making it more pleasant.  Of course, now that we could handle the wind, it started to reduce and, by 08:00 on Thursday, we were motor assisting and we continued, juggling sail plan and motor power as the wind varied all the way.  We entered the Chesapeake at dusk and elected to continue as the following morning the wind was due to die, then re-start from the north.  The last 30 miles were made under full sail with the wind increasing back to F5-6, which finished us with a romp up the South River at Annapolis.  We entered Harness Creek, one of our favourite spots on this coast, and anchored at 14:40, a little surprised to find it almost deserted. 

 

Saturday morning dawned fair and by 10:00 the joint was jumping.  There is a place to rent kayaks, paddle boards, etc and on previous visits there were usually a few of these out at weekends.  Now, every one was taken, with queues building.  Dozens of small motor boats also arrived to celebrate the end of Covid lock-down.  We had work to do: tidying, cleaning and drying so just got on with that over the weekend.  We did go ashore for a walk on Sunday, to get a few more cleaning supplies and then sat down with our sun-downers to watch the last of the weekend visitors leave that evening, leaving us in peace.

  

April 2020

In which we spend 4 weeks at anchor at Key West, waiting for developments on Covid 19, then start moving north again.

We arrived in Key West in the small hours of the first of April and, after a much-needed sleep, moved round to Garrison bight at first light.  As Elsie described, we picked up a mooring and completed check-in procedures, thus relieving any anxiety that we would not be permitted to stay.  On our way back from check-in, we flagged down a local who advised that there might be an unofficial place where we could land the dinghy to get provisions. Satisfied that we could at least survive, we spent the remainder of the day tidying up from the passage and catching up with the outside world.

 The following morning, I made a series of phone calls to try to clarify what shore access was permitted.  The city marina confirmed that, as we were not resident, we couldn’t use any of their facilities, including the mooring buoy that we were currently tied to; This was not their decision, but that of the authorities, though they were unsure of which ones.  I tried the coastguard, not them.  The Fish and Wildlife commission (which had issued orders about social distancing on small craft), not them.  The city council, not them, but the county. I was given a number to call, which turned out to be a snitch line for local tax-payers. Unable to talk to anyone in authority, I emailed the county head of emergency response, who appeared to have issued the ruling.  No reply was ever received.  Eventually, another marina agreed that I could use their dinghy dock and, leaving photo ID, could have an hour to shop.  Since they were several miles from the supermarkets, this would need taxis, but Ubers were operating.  Dinghy in, call taxi, 10 minutes; taxi ride, 10 minutes; shop, 15 minutes; call taxi, 10 minutes; ride, 10 minutes; back with 5 minutes to spare.  Can I fill my water cans? Yes.  So we now had access to food and water and were sheltered from all but the worst weather.  We just had to find a better parking solution.  There were a couple of yachts anchored outside the mooring field in a big open area, so we let go the buoy, found a nice big space and dropped the anchor.  During the afternoon, we were passed by boats belonging to the Coastguard, police and Wildlife commission, not of which even slowed down, so we seemed to have passed the last test.

Key West anchorage

Like many millions of people round the world, we now had to get used to a much slower pace of life than even we were used to.  Not being permitted to exercise ashore, I took to early morning calisthenics, something I hadn’t practiced for over 45 years.  It had to be early as by 8 AM it was too hot for anything energetic.  We forced ourselves into a routine of study periods etc. but, like all those other millions, we discovered that merely having unlimited time didn’t mean that we actually got round to writing that book or learning advanced mathematics.  I did clean Ruby’s bottom and topsides and freed a couple of seized locker catches; Elsie repaired a cushion or two and cleaned the cabin deckhead but too much time was spent on social media and reading about the news from around the world.

Passing bar.  They didn't stop to offer us a drink.

After a few days, it was time for another shop, so we headed to where the local had indicated.  The chart showed a large bank, drying at low water, so we rigged seat and oars in the dinghy, in case it was too shallow to motor.  It transpired that there was sufficient water to get in and, underneath a bridge, a 4 m metre wide beach where we could land and walk to the supermarket.  Only when we got to the top of the bank did we see the sign warning of crocodiles.  We never saw any of those, but there were some large lizards and, strangely, cockerels.  All our basic needs were now met so the routine continued:  water, every 2 days: shopping, once a week; laundry, once (self-isolating in sub-tropical temperatures, you don’t get through many sets of clothes); propane refill, once.  The hot water calorifier, which had been functioning well a couple of weeks earlier, now ceased to work, and many hours were spent flushing this through with various chemicals, unfortunately without success.  There is a blockage, requiring about 30 PSI to overcome. We can manage without for the time being so we will hope that it clears itself as it has once before.  While working on this, the seal on the raw water engine pump failed so another shore trip was required to exchange this, and its spare.

Don't hang about on this beach

While not in any hurry to go further north, we kept an eye on the weather.  After a couple of weeks, we saw a potential window coming up, to take us up to Lake Worth, near Palm Beach, Florida; pause, then further to Beaufort, North Carolina.  We prepared for this then, with about 12 hours to departure, the weather for the second leg started deteriorating and, as we didn’t want to get stuck in Lake Worth, we stayed put.  Of course, soon after our departure slot had passed, the weather improved again, but we had missed it.  Ten days later another slot, though not quite as good, appeared and, as we were now getting near to our original schedule, we took it.

On the afternoon of the 29^th, we motored back round Flemming Key (home of U.S. special forces) to take fuel and water, then anchored, waiting for the optimum departure time, 21:00  The theory was that we would head south from the fairway for an hour, to get into the fringes of the Gulf Stream; the wind would veer sufficiently for us to tack and then it would be a downstream ride all the way.  As so often, the weather didn’t read the script: the wind did veer just sufficiently to force us to tack but then hesitated for 6 hours so that it was not until the small hours that we got the full benefit of the current and 08:00 before we could ease the sheets and relax.  The stream makes a right angle turn and it wasn’t long before we were broad reaching making 8 -9 knots over the ground with 10 knots of relative wind.  It would have been nice if the wind were to back but it was forecast to veer, so we were expecting to have to goose-wing for a few hours before broad reaching on the other tack.  Instead it died.  At the same time, we were getting severe weather warnings from the other side of Florida.  We checked and re-checked the forecast and confirmed that our, Eastern, side should be clear but Elsie spotted a dark line on the horizon and, even though we were only getting 5 knots and the radar was showing no rain, we put in 2 reefs.  As we finished, the wind veered through 120 degrees and increased to 25 knots.  For the next several hours we had NW F6, instead of the forecast SW F3.  With wind against current, this made things uncomfortable, to say the least.  Eventually, it did back to west and decreased to F4, so we had a few hours of more comfort.  By 02:00, it had veered and increased again so it was back to crashing into the waves, only almost compensated for by the 11 – 12 knot progress.  When I rose for my watch at 05:00 on the 1^st May, we were just coming level with Lake Worth, though we were 16 miles offshore, so tacked round and had an easy reach in.  We reached the fairway buoy at 08:00 and by 9 were at anchor in this very affluent widening of the I.C.W.  We tidied up and settled to wait for the next window to continue north.

Elsie's Cuba diary - week 4

Week 4 and our journey to USA

at last

Friday 20^th March

After our huge disappointment of no shrimps we decided to head for a more picturesque anchorage in the National Park. Hopefully there would be no shouting officials and stuck up diving tourists this time. Yes, you have guessed it, the wind was a north easterly 4 and we were going to be almost directly downwind for the 18nm to the chosen anchorage so the genoa was deployed and we set sail earlyish for a somewhat slow but rocky sail. The swell was at least two metres in some areas. Cayo Alcatracito was our destination, part of a group of Cayos named Cinos Balas, Five Bullets. It was reported there was huge sandy beaches and reefs to explore. Both of us liked the sound of that. The passage took us through a shallow area between cayos where I spotted a mast hidden behind some land. On closer inspection it was a catamaran whose occupants were obviously into serious water sports – one was kite surfing and the other was paddle boarding in swells of about two metres. We left them to it and continued around the reef that protects the anchorage we were heading for.

colours of the shadows

There were three boats already there, two together, (sailing buddies) and one well apart. As we were readying to put the genoa away the two buddies upped anchor and motor sailed away towards the west. Well it wasn’t me I had a shower the night before and put on clean knickers. It must have been the Captain they smelt.  Dropped the sail and motored into a depth we could anchor in, dropped the anchor and congratulated ourselves for another safe ocean passage done.

lunch

Lunch was eaten. I had now run out of salad ingredients and have resorted to tuna mayo with sweetcorn on USA’s equivalent of water biscuits. Lionel is still munching through his part baked bread and salami but I have to say we are both getting a little fed up with our lunch time menu. Dinner has not been such a problem as we keep coming up with new ways to prepare a meal with tinned and dried goods. Tonight’s may be pizza. A large tortilla, covered in salsa with the topping of your choice. On offer is cheese and onion, tuna and sweetcorn, sardines or pepperoni and the ever-favourite ham but no pineapple, I forgot to buy some tinned fruit thinking that fruit would not be scarce in this part of the world. Wrong. You can get bananas, and bananas then of course there are bananas and of course there is those long yellow bent fruits which I’ve forgotten their names, ah yes bananas.

Sorry, I have digressed. Enough of our food stores and meal planning. After lunch we launched the dingy and made for one of the two sandy beaches this cay has to offer. Wonderful, a choice. The beach had a narrow sandy strip between the mangroves and the sea but it was good to walk apart for the ferocious sand flies. I was glad I had the foresight to spray on insect repellent. At each end of the beach there was a forest of dead trees washed up on the beach. Some of them would make spectacular outdoor sculptures. The shallows were full of crabs and what looked like sea anemones. As they were turned upside down a huge mouth like structure became visible. Lots of little chattering birds who waddled along the beach in front of you, looking back to make sure you weren’t coming too close and graceful white stork like birds who seemed content in just standing in the water watching you. I think it may be nesting season because they seemed to be guarding their territory. And of course, pelicans, huge squadrons of funny stupid pelicans who haven’t learnt the art of graceful water landings yet and just drop feet first into the water – well it seems like that but their technique still works, never seen a skinny pelican.

lurking in the shallows

 On our way back to Ruby we dropped in to say hello to the other anchored boat, “Freedom”, captained by a mad Aussie, Peter I think, and his lovely girlfriend Margareta was his crew. They were going west to east, the opposite way to us, and we were hoping to get some information about what was happening in Cienfuegos. Everything was fine, no restrictions on your movements and food was plentiful. They had checked out of Cuba but were taking their time leaving. Like us they were enjoying drifting through these islands.

firewood anyone?

This settled our minds more and we tentatively started making plans for some more land travel when we got there. Two places we had earmarked for visits were Santa Clara and Trinidad. Trinidad had a marina but it was far from the town so it was easier to travel from Cienfuegos. It is reputed to be the oldest city in the new world but how many times have we heard that claim? We were concerned about using public transport so it was decided that we would use private cars with drivers to get from one town to the other. There were always drivers willing to take tourists somewhere at a price and as long as they could get fuel for the car. Santa Clara was all about Cuba’s other favourite son Che. Although he was not Cuban, he was adopted by the people and was a huge hero during and after the revolution. So big a hero, it is rumoured that Fidel had a hand in his assassination.  He feared for Che taking over the Government. His grave is at Santa Clara along with other important sites of the revolution.

During our nightly sundowners we were interrupted by a dingy approaching. It contained two wet and bedraggled occupants Peter and Margareta. They had been exploring on the north side of the Cay, filming and spear fishing. Margareta had speared a huge snapper and as they had already enough fish aboard, they gifted it to us. This was very welcome as fresh provisions were low. We had been trailing a line this morning but only caught a large barracuda which had to be thrown back as they are usually infected and when eaten humans can develop ciguatera, a disease which poisons the body. Not nice. Lionel cleaned, beheaded and unscaled the snapper and we had delicious fish steaks for dinner with enough left over for a curry tomorrow night. The pizza can wait.

walk at last

Saturday 21^st March

We were enjoying this anchorage so much we decided to stay another day. There was another beach to explore and reefs to swim or dinghy over and mangroves to go and look at so after a lazy morning we set off for the other cay. Lionel went off for a stomp and I took a leisurely stroll. The sand flies were worse over on this beach and we had to keep moving to deter them. Even then the backs of my legs and upper arms were covered in red lumps. This beach was somehow more rugged but with less mangroves encroaching on the water’s edge. I soon lost sight of Lionel whose mission seemed to be to walk around the Cay. I was fascinated with the small rays basking in the warm shallow water. They seemed to have no fear and only darted away when I was mere feet away from them. The birds were noisier here as well. Little waders prancing about the beach lecturing you and probably each other about where to get the best food. Very few pelicans but lots of the white stately stork like birds fishing. The water was shallow for a good one hundred yards from the beach but the sand was more like gooey mud and sucked my feet under when I attempted to paddle. I walked to a distant mangrove clump then turned around and walked back to the dinghy where I got in and pushed it of the beach to get away from the ever-present flies. Eventually Lionel turned up and waded out to the dinghy carefully avoiding the small ray which had parked itself in the shade of the dinghy.

it's a mouth and nothing much else

The rest of the day was spent being lazy, catching up with some blog writing, reading and discussing our hoped-for land travel next week. We had a brief visit from the captain of a French yacht which had arrived when we were exploring. He had no good news. It looked as if land travel was not viable anymore and the Cubans were becoming rather worried about tourists bringing in more cases of Coronus.  Who can blame them?  I think we are as safe as we can be just bobbing about these Cays but water is becoming dangerously low and, in a day, or two, we will have to seriously think about returning to civilisation…. unless it rains then all bets are off.

sea sculpture

Sunday 22^nd March

Lionel was up early unleashing the sails and preparing for our next little jaunt. When I got up, he was contemplating his coffee mug. “Fancy staying here for another day? We deserve a weekend off.” He didn’t need to ask twice. The sails were put back into their bag and another lazy day started.  I had a book to finish reading and he wanted to go on another stomp round the Cay we were on yesterday, so off he went and I settled down to some reading.

After lunch Lionel wanted to go swim the nearby reef and see if he could prise any unsuspecting lobsters from under their rock. It sounded like too much hard work to me so he loaded the dinghy with an anchor, his snorkelling gear and a vicious looking metal rod with a hook on one end. Alas, he came back empty handed and we went back to the original beach for one last walk before the sun went down. It will be sad to leave this little bit of paradise but we need to keep moving towards Cienfuegos and water.

a shady spot, just right for a read

Monday 23^rd March

No delay today and we set sail for tonight’s destination, Cayo Zaza de Fuerd, a mere 35 nm away at just before 0800. With two reefs in the main sail and a brisk easterly force 4 wind we made good progress. As usual there was some narrow shallow passages between sand banks and reefs but with the captain’s navigational skills, they were a doddle. We have been using two cruising guides in Cuba. The Waterway Guide by Addison Chan and Nigel Calder and another lesser known one which I traded for a couple of slabs of beer with another boat in The Bahamas last winter. This one is by Amaia  Agrirre and Frank Virgintino. It is geared more to the USA boaters and is considerably older than Addison’s guide. I had also been taking advice from the Cuban Cruisers Facebook group before we got to Cuba so I felt we were well prepared for our two-month adventure here in Cuba. Because of the water situation we were missing out an anchorage at Cayo Breton but reading the cruising reports I don’t think we were missing much. Just another Cayo covered in mangroves and that was confirmed by our neighbours in tonight’s Cayo, Patrick and Leslie, two Canadian friends who sailed on The Little Blue Pearl. Well that’s the boat’s name translated into English. We had already met them in Santiago de Cuba but never really socialised so we spent a few happy hours having a drink and swopping sailing stories. Patrick was usually singlehanded but Leslie had volunteered to come along and help him visit Cuba, smart girl. She was becoming increasingly worried about the Corona news as she needed to be back in Quebec for 16^th April and she already knew flights were becoming fewer and fewer.

little blue Pearl

As we had been dropping the anchor a fishing boat had been the entering the anchorage and we had hailed them and asked them if they had any lobster we could trade with. Looking at their blank expressions I began to wonder if they were actually a fishing crew or just a work crew looking for a quiet anchorage for the night. We showed them a jacket, a snorkel mask and some coffee and they seemed more interested in lobster fishing and took off in the general direction of the reef where lobsters allegedly lived. No luck there they disappeared around the corner and we thought that was that and it might be the infamous pizza tonight after all.

large fishing boat

After our social hour with Patrick and Leslie we were quietly contemplating the sunset and who should return but our fishing boat laden with lobsters. We traded a snorkel mask and some lip salve for six of these creatures – a huge granddaddy, two Canadian sized ones and three smaller nondescript ones. We did say we didn’t want so many and to give some to the other boat but they held up another six and told us, by sign language that they were for the other boat. So, six lobsters, three days dinner and it cost us 15CUC and a snorkel mask. We were ruthless with our bargaining but they wanted money as well as the other things so cash was handed over.

catch of the day

Lionel did a little butchering on deck while I stayed out of the way then he cooked the granddaddy lobster and served it with noodles in a Hollandaise sauce. There was far too much meat for just the two of us but we either ate it or it was wasted so we ate. Yum Yum. He then decided to cook the rest of the lobsters and pick of the meat so it would be easier to deal with for the next two nights. Good idea. After his murder spree on deck I scrubbed and washed the evidence away and he stripped the lobsters of their flesh and threw the empty shells overboard. I think $15 was a fair price for three nights of lobster dinners.

Tuesday 24^th March

Tonight, is our last anchorage before we hit the big city. Water was at crisis point and we might have to break out the 50 litres of water we have had on board since we crossed the Atlantic 4 years ago. Today’s sail was a 30nm to an anchorage beside a tourist hotel where we allegedly could pick up internet. The wind had subsided and we had a good journey with full sail and the cruising chute. The passage was one of our less complicated sails with only a very short stretch with shallow water as we entered the anchorage area. I went up onto the bow to watch for random coral heads and rocks. Sailing in the Bahamas had helped me learn very quickly how to read the water using colours. The darker the water the deeper it was usually but it all depends on what the bottom has on it. It was light patches with dark rocks and coral heads in them that I was looking for but this time I saw none.

beach party anyone

We anchored as close to the hotel as possible. Hotel Ancon is a tourist hotel with a glorious beach running for a couple of miles in front of it. All the touristy things were laid out on the golden sand – thatched sun shades, canoes, paddle boards but there were no tourists around. We saw a couple having a walk along the beach at sunset but that was it. As usual in Cuba we were not allowed to land here as there was no Gaurda present so we just looked longingly. The Little Blue Pearl joined us. They managed to get a half mile nearer the hotel than us and got internet. No good news. Cuba was closing their borders. The last flight to Canada was in a few days and Leslie was desperate to get on it so they struck out after dinner to do a night passage to Cienfuegos. There was no wind forecast so it was going to be a long 35nm motor no matter when they went. We had resigned ourselves to the situation and stayed put for one last night of freedom. Little did we know what was to come.

russian designed Cuban lighthouse

Wednesday 25^th March

Up early and out of the anchorage by 0800. We raised the sails but with not much hope of sailing but thought we might get a little push from them in the about easterly wind. At midday we surprised ourselves and sailed the rest of the way with full sail up. This bit of the coast is not very interesting apart from the designer lighthouses. The Russians designed and built the lighthouses along this part of the coast. Foreigners are allowed to walk around them but are not allowed in them. They are supposed to be as sumptuous inside as they are on the outside. I could well imagine the “lid” popping open and a rocket emerging from the inside of the one nearest to Hotel Ancon. A beautiful bit of shoreline art.

more tradiotional

As the day developed the wind got stronger and we managed to sail with full sail from midday into the entrance of Cienfuegos harbour where we had a 7-mile motor to the marina passing some interesting buildings. The path was somewhat zig zag round shallow patches but we did get there eventually and safely. We had already discussed our strategy and Lionel radioed the marina and asked permission to tie up on the fuel dock which was denied. We were asked to go to anchor and wait for further instructions which we did. There were about another 6 boats at anchor including our Canadian friends on Little Blue Pearl.

marina

About an hour later the marina launch approached and hovered feet away from our stern. The two people in it introduced themselves as the doctor and harbour master (who talked excellent English and turned out to be a Godsend). We were asked the usual questions and the doctor took our temperature. Everything was good. Again, Lionel asked to go alongside to fill up with diesel and water and the harbourmaster explained water was not a problem but the diesel would not be delivered till the next morning. She then asked our intentions and we explained that once we got fuel, water and food we would leave and head for USA. She wanted to know where in the USA and seemed satisfied with all our answers and went away with a smile on her face.

During the evening and night there was some talk over the radio amongst the half dozen or so boats in the anchorage. We were very careful about what we said over the airwaves, “walls have ears” Most of the boats had be at anchor for over a week but we and a Canadian boat had come in that day. No one was allowed off their boat. The marina staff would get food for the anchored boats if asked and there was no visiting between boats. Fair enough. Good policies to stop the spread of Corona even though most of us had been self-isolated for over two weeks. We were watched all night by the coast guard who were anchored on the edge of the designated anchorage.

coast guard

Thursday 26^th March

In the morning there was another visit from the doctor and today’s harbour master who when asked said he would call us on channel 16 when the fuel arrived and was ready to be pumped. There was more chitchat amongst the boats, some of it in French as it was thought that the authorities would not understand that language. A single-handed Australian sailor was very concerned about rumours about new policies, either leave or dock the boat and go to a Government run hotel full of other stranded tourists. He thought, and quite rightly I think, that it was a recipe for disaster and at his age (70) there was no way he was going to comply. He was safe and healthy there on his boat and that was the way it was going to stay. The marina eventually called him on channel 16 and requested him to come to the dock, with his boat not his dinghy, they had some new important information. He said no and a conversation started trying to persuade him to do as requested. He stuck to his guns. They did eventually admit that if the anchored boats were not going to leave, they were to be brought into the marina and the crew taken to a hotel. Some of the anchored boats had nowhere else to go and frantically started to make inquiries about emergency visas and permission to go to other countries which they had not planned to go to. We both have a B1/B2 visa for the USA and the cruising permit had been renewed in Puerta Rico so we could legally enter the USA, if they would have us.

 At 1100 we were radioed to come into the fuel dock. Some of the anchored boats advised us not to go in as it was a ploy. We went in and were met with various friendly officials.

our saviuor in a mask

Yesterday’s dockmaster (who had already worked a 24-hour shift) came back in to help with interpreting and ended up running the whole of the visible operation. The water tanks were filled and I handed the ‘interpreter’ my shopping list with bags and empty egg boxes. She zoomed away and came back half hour later with the list of things she could get locally and their prices. We OK’d them then she explained someone would have to go into the city to get the fruit and vegetables on our list. I was flabbergasted. This was above and beyond the service I had expected but the Captain pointed out that they were desperate for us to leave and would do almost anything to achieve that aim. The diesel was still settling and still not ready to fill our tanks.veg net beginning to fill up

veg net beginning to fill up

Meanwhile we watched a large tourist boat leave the marina and approach one of the anchored boats and tow it into a dock. I thought this was the start of the Cubans becoming heavy handed but it turned out the boat had engine problems and the captain had requested that the boat to be towed in (I cannot verify this as fact but that is how it sounded to me as the radio messages flew around the anchorage). The Canadian boat came alongside the fuel dock behind us. They had requested fuel and then they were leaving as well.

During the next couple of hours various food items were delivered and paid for. We had a finite amount of Cuban cash and we knew we would need copious amounts of fuel so we had been quite canny about our shopping list. The marina staff quite happily took our rubbish away, glass bottles, aluminium cans and general garbage. They smiled and nodded at all our requests and complied with everything they could. We were not allowed on the dock. At last we were fuelled, watered and food was loaded. It turned out a young woman had gone into the city to buy all the fruit and veg for us and the Canadian boat. Unbelievable service. I was showing Leslie some of the things they had brought us and she was lamenting about not asking for them as well. Lo and behold the staff produced more of the same stuff. We found that after all the bills were paid, we had extra Cuban cash so we asked if someone could go and buy more rum for us, along came three bottles of high-quality golden rum. You’ve got to love them. Two boats left Cienfuegos very happy.

typical waterside property

The weather was OK but not perfect for our journey to USA. We were heading for either Dry Tortugas or Key West, whatever one we could go into in daylight. We had left around 1430 on 27^th March. The idea was to sail when we could and anchor in secluded spots along the South coast when the wind didn’t blow to conserve fuel. As we got to the harbour entrance, we raised full sail and set off for tonight’s potential anchorage. Lionel had two in mind depending on the conditions we encountered in the first hour. Predict wind was showing we may (or may not) have a strong head wind but it didn’t materialise so we kept on going, cutting the corner of a military exclusion zone at the Bahia de Cochinos (Bay of Pigs). The wind started to die around 2200 and we motor sailed into our tiny anchorage just after midnight. As we dropped anchor lights came on ahead and we feared the worst, Cuban coastguard but it turned out to be a sleepy fisherman. Cayo Guano del Este is a tiny rocky Cayo with a lighthouse and some ruined houses on it so not much to look at but the shelter it gave us was welcome as we needed a good night’s sleep and some time to reflect on what had happened in the last 24 hours. Personally, adrenalin had kept me going but as a sipped a very strong rum I realised how stressed I had been. No matter how nice and accommodating people are there is always a very small doubt in your mind, “Is this going to work?” But it had and we were set for our passage to USA.

bye bye Cuba

Friday 27^th March

Lionel had been keeping in touch with Wild Iris and Zwailer via email. We thought they were in a Cayo about 60nm miles away so that’s where we decided to head today so it was up with the sun, full main sail and the cruising chute deployed and away we went. The wind was a nice easterly force 3, perfect for the cruising chute and we bowled along at between 6 and 7knotts. The wind strengthened and when it started hitting over 16knotts the cruising chute came down and the jib went out which slowed us down slightly so Lionel elected to motor sail as the sun got lower in the sky and we got slower and slower. We heard various boats radioing each other during the day but our ears pricked up when we heard Wild Iris talking to Zwailer. Zwailer was on their way home. They had elected to leave Cuba, head for Bimini, Bermuda and homewards. Brave brave sailors, sailing into the unknown, no one knew or could predict where they would be welcome or get more food and fuel. After that conversation was finished Lionel called them up and wished them well and asked them to keep in touch.

At around 1900 we lowered the sails and entered the channel that lead to the anchorage. As I was tidying up the sails and Lionel was navigating a particularly narrow bit a coast guard boat approached and asked to see our papers and passports. We handed them over and they were scrutinised carefully. We were then asked our intentions and they seemed happy enough we were coming in to rest for the night and leaving first thing in the morning for a nonstop sail to Key West. There were four other boats in the anchorage, one of them Wild Iris who we got on the radio and got some good advice about where to anchor. They were on sand and weed but the French boats had dropped their anchors on coral and had poor holding so we maneuverer our way to the stern of Wild Iris and dropped our anchor on the sand and weed and gave it a good tug. Success.

Mark from Wild Iris radioed us again and said we had been invited to a pot luck supper on one of the French boats but as we were exhausted and had already started cooking, we declined. He came over to visit and we exchanged news and views. They were heading for Tampa where they had some friends who were willing to help them if they got put into quarantine. We agreed it would be prudent to have shore help if the authorities refused to let us land. Strategies were discussed and he left with some ham, half a melon and half dozen eggs. They had not seen meat for a very long time but I was not willing to give up one of the two chickens which the girls had got for us. We would need it. He did return with several green peppers. I had forgotten to add them to my shopping list. After he left, we had a brainstorming session and still thought that Key West or Dry Tortugas were where we should be heading but realised our plan of anchoring every night until the wind improved was not going to happen. We were on the coast guard’s radar now and although they obviously didn’t have the state of art technology other countries coastguard had they could still find us so from tomorrow morning it was Key West or bust. I made sure I got a very good sleep – rum and earplugs are the best way.

our last anchorage

Our passage North

This is when our passage started in earnest. The preventors were put out on both sides of the boat, a spare jib line was attached and by 0820 we had lifted the anchor and were motoring out into the wild blue yonder closely followed by three other boats and a large catamaran in front with the coast guard escorting us from a distance. The sail went up with one reef in it and off we went. With a good easterly behind us we made good progress that morning but not as good as the large catamaran and Wild Iris. They were hitting heady speeds of 7 or 8 knots regularly whereas our average was about 6.5. They were soon just specks in the distance. We elected to sail further offshore so we did not turn to goosewing until about 1400 which slowed us down considerably.

By 0200 on Sunday a had to start the motor as the wind had died and we were making very little headway. We knew there was going to be a lot of motor sailing in the next four days but we would have to try and keep it to a minimum to conserve fuel. The next two days was a combination of reaching, goose winging and motor sailing as the fickle wind tried to make up it’s mind what it really wanted to do. For once I was eating well and sleeping most of the time I was off watch. Lionel does not sleep during the day; he naps and dozes but usually sleeps soundly the six hours during the night which makes me very aware of flapping sails and banging booms. But in light winds and a roly sea it is very hard to stop it so I just plug in my earphones, listen to some music and hope for the best.

Lionel always keeps a close eye on the weather forecast using the Iridium Go and the news was not good. We were still 18 hours too early for the good sailing winds so we came up with a new plan. We would slow down and effectively delay our passage by 18 hours so a boring evening and night on Monday was spent doing about 25nm in a six-hour watch. The next weather forecast was more variable but there was a chance of lightning storms ahead. We felt we were between a rock and a hard place, slow down so we could get the more favourable winds over the Gulf Stream or motor sail to avoid the incoming storms. We sped up and eventually hit the stream on 31^st where we got a good 2.5knott push. The wind was out of the south east quarter so there was no wind against current effect so we had a smooth ride for the day. We had elected to do a big sweeping curve until the heading of the offshore buoy at Key West was 40 then we would turn directly towards it. By doing this we would stay in the Gulf Stream longer and thus get a longer push. Good theory. Even with all our clever planning we were going to arrive in Key West sometime after midnight on 1^st. Dry Tortugas was 60nm nearer and we had discussed the pros and cons of landing there. Two of the negatives was there was no fresh water and no internet and I am sorry to say we were both getting rather jumpy about having no contact with the outside world other than the Iridium so we had voted a night entry into Key West.

During the evening we slowly turned to point to Key West. The wind veered round with us and eventually settled to a WNW. We still had a push from the Gulf Stream 12nm from Key West so our curve had not been necessary. It just proves sailors of all abilities are always learning. We dropped sails around about midnight and motored into one of the many anchorages in Key West, Wisteria Island was the one we chose. There are no anchorages around this Key which are sheltered from the North wind so we knew we would probably move early in the morning. It felt good to be here but we still didn’t know what our reception would be when we tried to book in. The best bit was we had only used a third of a tank of fuel, about 50 litres, considering we were concerned about having enough fuel we did well. We reconnected with concerned family and friends then copious amounts of rum were consumed and off to bed with the alarm set for 0700.

We were flying the yellow quarantine flag which vessels fly when they are in a country but not booked in. This would attract attention so the quicker we got booked in the better. Knowing that the anchorage and mooring field round the other side at Garrison Bight would be a little more sheltered we upped anchor early and motored round. Lionel contacted the City Marina where we were told the marina and dingy dock were closed which meant the mooring field was as well which made no sense to us so we went ahead and picked up a mooring ball. The last edict we had heard was boats must be 50 feet apart with no more than ten people aboard. We were complying. Lionel activated the ROAM app to book into USA officially and I ran around tidying up the fridge in particular but the boat in general. We had had long hot showers washing hair that morning so we looked almost respectable. We ready for the video call which would probably come. The App flashed application pending which seemed to go on for hours then it changed to application being reviewed so waited in excited anticipation for the call. It never came. The application was partially approved but we had to contact the local CBP. From experience we knew this meant Ruby’s application had been granted but they wanted to see us in person to approve ours. Lionel called the CBP who informed us there was no problem and to come and see us at their office. Oh yes, there was a problem, we were not allowed onshore. Ahh. We eventually made a plan to meet them at or near the City Marina’s dingy dock. Lionel took the officer’s telephone number just in case and we busied ourselves unleashing the dingy and outboard watching the sky carefully as huge black rain clouds formed. Our lightweight rain gear was dug out and we sweated in it as we lifted the outboard onto the dingy and I emptied the spare water jugs into the aft tank so we could collect some water after we were booked in.

Two officers were waiting near the dingy dock at the sea wall as we approached. We knew it worse than we had anticipated when officials were not even allowed on the dock. It took about 15 minutes for the formalities and our passports were stamped. We were in. As they were packing up, I asked how we would get food and water if we could not get onto dry land. They more or less shrugged and walked away. I compared that with the Cubans running around to accommodate us less than a week ago. USA did not come out good in the comparison. More disappointment was to come. We approached the dingy dock and asked if we could fill our water jugs. The answer was an emphatic no. I was feet away from the water tap but they would not budge. Ah well, their country, their rules. We returned to Ruby knowing we were in for a long wait. Noonsite, a world wide news boating site that most cruisers use was full of doom and gloom and we knew things were going to get worse before they would get better.

After having time to reflect I must say that this has been in part one of our most stressful parts of our sailing adventure so far but it has also been one of the happiest and interesting. I definitely want to go back to Cuba to continue the incredible journey we started and we may do next winter. As I have already said all bets are off. We may go to Canada and Newfoundland this summer. Lionel and crew may still cross back to the UK in August. It all depends on what happens in the next few months. We do know that this autumn will not be a good time to try to sell a boat so do we really want to go back to the UK at this time or have another winter maybe partly in the Bahamas but mostly in Cuba? Time and Corona virus will tell. Watch this space.