El Saco is one of the few protected anchorages in the Eastern Caribbean. Two sand spits curve towards each other from either side of the entrance, blocking the ocean swells and producing perfectly flat water inside. We made the S-curve required to dodge the two sand spits and dropped the anchor inside.
The crew of Parrothead, Geronimo, Toluso, and Sovereign wait out the non-hurricane
The harbor had
quite a few boats inside, with more coming in every hour. Hurricane
Joyce was defying all the weather forecasters and bearing down on the Southeastern
Caribbean. Boats were arriving from the unprotected Venezuelan Islands
of Blanquilla, Los Testigos, and Margarita, and even from as far away as
Trinidad and Grenada, seeking refuge from the expected storm. We
started preparing the boat and listening to what few weather forecasts
we were able to receive.
Venezuela is generally considered to be a "hurricane free area", being well south of the normal track of hurricanes. It was one of the main reasons for us coming here. Apparently Joyce wasn't concerned with any of this. For the next few days, we waited, watched the sky, and tapped the barometer expectantly, waiting to see what kind of weather was dished up. It was tense for a while, mostly because information about the storm was hard to come by. We usually listen to weather information once a day during the morning radio nets. Under normal conditions this is fine, but in the quickly changing conditions of a tropical cyclone, lots can happen in 24 hours. We tuned the ham radio to the Hurricane Watch Net on 14.325 MHz, but they were focusing in Hurricane Keith, which was making landfall in the Western Caribbean, and they weren't much interested in telling us about Joyce. Fortunately, Joyce diminished to a tropical storm, and was further downgraded to a tropical depression as she passed about a hundred miles north of our position. We had a few rain showers and a little squally weather, but nothing even remotely related to a hurricane. In the end the most trying condition we faced was not the weather, but doing battle with the squadrons of flies that invaded us by the hundreds.
While we were tucked securely into El Saco, Kay and Michael generously offered us the hospitality of their boat. We were treated to some of the amenities that a much larger boat has to offer: movies and (gasp) air conditioning! Every day we gathered aboard Toluso to be cool and enjoy delicious food and movies. It was heaven!
After three days in El Saco, we finally raised anchor and motored out of the harbor, this time headed for Puerto Mochima. The wind was from the east, and it would have been a nice downwind run for the first leg of the trip. But the distance was too far to make port before dark at the slow pace we would have made under sail. Instead we motored down to the tip of Peninsula de Araya on the Venezuelan mainland, and after rounding Punta Caracare, the westernmost headland of the peninsula, we headed south. As we rounded the point, the wind abruptly switched to the southwest (very unusual in the Caribbean) and we were finally able to shut the engine off and sail on a close reach the rest of the way into Puerto Mochima.
The sail was nothing short of fantastic. The weather was sparkling clear, and the conditions were almost perfect. After nearly a year of beating into "reinforced trade winds" and bashing our way through ocean swells that have had thousands of miles to develop their strength, it was so nice to sail in ten knot winds and seas of less than a foot. The South American continent was now protecting us from the worst of the Atlantic and Caribbean weather, and the boat's motion during this sail was less than it has been in most of the anchorages we have stayed in! This is sailing the way it was meant to be, and we reveled in the experience. The wind dropped a little as we neared the harbor, but with plenty of daylight left we slowly sailed into Puerto Mochima, turned east into a protected arm of the bay, and dropped the sails just before anchoring.
Sovereign at anchor, Mochima, Venezuela
Mochima is a wonderful
cruising destination. It is part of a National Park, so there is
very little development on shore. The green hills are contrasted
by the ruddy brown sandstone at the water's edge, which changes abruptly
to the inky blue of water that is deep all the way to the shore.
The rugged coastline here is sprinkled with small islands and lots of indentations,
making for nice gunkholing and short distances between protected harbors.
Puerto Mochima (photo by Raul Sojo)
Yesterday we took
a dinghy trip with Mike and Kay from Toluso around the bay of Puerto Mochima.
We poked into every corner of every little cove, marveling at the ever-changing
views. By the time we reached the far end of the bay, the wind had
whipped up to over 20 knots, and we were faced with a rough dinghy ride
straight into the steep chop that had developed. It was more like
riding a mechanical bull than a boat as the dinghy bucked and bounced over
the waves. We finally made it, soaking wet and tired, back to our
anchorage. Toluso and Sovereign were riding placidly at anchor in
their sheltered little cove, oblivious to our ordeal.
Toluso in Puerto Mochima
Last night we went
over to Toluso for dinner and were treated to another movie in the air
conditioning! Cathy and Kay also had a "bead party", making bead
strands and bracelets. We came back to the boat shortly after dark,
and fell right into bed. Sometime early in the morning I was awakened
by a caffeine rush from the overdose of freshly baked chocolate chip cookies
that I ate while watching the movie. I lay in the berth looking out
the hatch as the boat swung gently at anchor. The constellation Orion
drifted in and out of view with each slow swing. Outside I could
hear only natural sounds: the squeak of bats and the splash of fish.
Sometimes this lifestyle that we call "cruising" consists of waiting nervously to see if, despite every reasonable precaution we can take, a hurricane is going to destroy everything we own. Sometimes it consists of a special gift of nature, like a fabulous sail, or the beauty of a tropical night. Sometimes it is so difficult that we just want to pack up and move ashore. Sometimes it is so fine that we can't imagine wanting to live any other way. Cruising is a life of contrasts and contradictions. We have lived aboard Sovereign for over ten years, and have cruised for nearly four, and we still don't know what cruising is all about. Maybe that is its charm.
Smooth sailing,
Jim and Cathy