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Caribbean Compass Yachting Magazine 2015

Welcome to Caribbean Compass, the most widely-read boating publication in the Caribbean! THE MOST NEWS YOU CAN USE - feature articles on cruising destinations, regattas, environment, events...

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— Continued from previous page<br />

…the delight of snorkelers and the dread of boaters<br />

wending their way through minefields of coral. So far<br />

this year alone four boats have met their fate on the<br />

reefs of these San Blas islands. We did not want to be<br />

the fifth!<br />

So arriving in the morning, as the eastern sun rising<br />

behind us would shine light down into these shallow<br />

reef-strewn waters, seemed like a good idea. What we<br />

are so angry and confused there is no clear best angle.<br />

So we slow down and circle through the rolling and<br />

bouncing… like riding a lazy bronco.<br />

Three hours later, with no sun visible, the rain<br />

begins to abate. The storm clouds turn from black to<br />

slate and a low grey cloud cover descends upon the<br />

coast, bringing bands of mist and fog to enshroud the<br />

coastal lowlands. We turn back toward our island destination<br />

and make our way toward shore.<br />

Our San Blas landfall<br />

after the rain<br />

had the good fortune to have Eric’s waypoints from his<br />

paper charts, which we were able to program into our<br />

electronic charts.<br />

Slowly, vigilantly, with one pair of eyes on the water<br />

and the second pair on our new charts, we wended our<br />

way from waypoint to waypoint to a 16-foot anchorage<br />

(which on every other chart showed 60 feet of water!)<br />

in the protection of Isla Piños… out of the sea swells,<br />

out of the wind chop, in the lee of a hilly rainforested<br />

island that blocked the northeast tradewinds. We<br />

dropped anchor, let out 150 feet of anchor chain, let<br />

out a huge sigh of relief, and retreated, exhausted, to<br />

the chairs of the cockpit, each of us with a glass of<br />

15-year-aged rum on ice.<br />

It was 12:00 noon (5:00PM somewhere) and we drank<br />

a toast to our arrival, to our outstanding collaboration,<br />

to being “on the road again”, to being safely at our new<br />

temporary home in Panama. We toasted to our partnership,<br />

to the benevolent Poseidon and to all the gods<br />

hadn’t accounted for was the local climate difference<br />

only 150 miles away from where we started.<br />

The area we had left, coastal Colombia, is almost<br />

desert-like in its year-round climate. Positioned to the<br />

west of northern Colombia’s tall Sierra Nevada mountain<br />

range, the coastal towns of Santa Marta,<br />

Barranquilla and Cartagena are all in the rain shadow<br />

of the 18,000 foot peaks and suffer the arid consequences.<br />

Here, across the sea to the west, we are in a<br />

seven-month rainy season, in a rainforest, and (go<br />

figure) as we arrive, it is raining.<br />

Visibility is piss poor. An hour out, as we approach<br />

Isla Piños, our first charted destination, we are<br />

besieged by squalls, torrential rains, and very turbulent<br />

seas. For the last three hours we have been surrounded<br />

by dry electrical storms with bolts of lightning<br />

following only two or three seconds later. Kent rushes<br />

to put all our portable electronic equipment into the<br />

microwave (a Gaussian shield) to protect it in case of a<br />

lightning strike.<br />

We have multiple electronic chart redundancy (no<br />

surprise to those of you who know Kent) to ensure<br />

safe navigation. Two of our electronic charts are<br />

loaded onto a portable Garmin and onto an iPad.<br />

These are both crammed into the microwave which<br />

now sports a bold red-lettered warning, scribbled with<br />

Kent’s Scripto, “DO NOT USE THE MICROWAVE!!!”<br />

(as if we would turn it on without any food in it, just<br />

for the hell of it!).<br />

So, as the thunderstorm bears down on us and the<br />

radar screen shows a four-mile radius of almost solid<br />

black dots, we decide to turn the boat around and<br />

head back out to sea. If the storm continues we will<br />

circle in the area, eight miles out in 2,000 feet of water<br />

to avoid any risk of reef encounters closer to shore.<br />

Marilyn is at the helm and scanning the seas to<br />

ascertain, in this limited visibility, the direction of the<br />

swells. By pointing the boat at a 30-degree angle into<br />

oncoming swells we can minimize our pitch and yaw<br />

and cut down on the number of unsecured items that<br />

slide off shelves or across the salon floor. But the seas<br />

Other boaters have told us that ALL the popular<br />

electronic navigational charts are unreliable in these<br />

islands. Many boaters thought they were navigating<br />

into ten-foot-deep anchorages according to the charts,<br />

only to find that the position of the charted anchorage<br />

was actually in the middle of an island.<br />

Only one set of paper charts, those of Eric Bauhaus,<br />

has accurately captured correct soundings and topography<br />

of this remote and sparsely populated part of<br />

the world. We had been living in anticipatory trepidation<br />

about the prospect of navigating these islands<br />

without accurate electronic charts with their accompanying<br />

GPS systems. The beauty of electronic charts is<br />

our ability to electronically track our exact boat position<br />

(within the tolerance of GPS accuracy) on the<br />

detailed maps of the area. Entering the reef of Isla<br />

Piños without any good light to “read” the water and<br />

see the underwater coral was possible only because we<br />

Welcoming us to the San Blas islands, or Kuna Yala,<br />

our new Kuna friend, Joaquin, in his dugout canoe<br />

that might be looking out for us. We toasted to our<br />

trusted Cardea. We toasted to all our friends and family<br />

who care about us and whom we so deeply treasure.<br />

And we toasted our good fate and fortune for being<br />

alive and healthy and aware, doing what we most want<br />

to do and in this most magnificent expanse of nature.<br />

We are immensely grateful to just be here, just us, just<br />

now in just this moment in time.<br />

Kent and Marilyn have spent ten years aboard their<br />

56-foot DeFever, cruising the eastern seaboard of the<br />

US, the Bahamas, and for the last seven years the eastern<br />

and western <strong>Caribbean</strong>. M/V Cardea is their first<br />

and last boat.<br />

SEPTEMBER <strong>2015</strong> CARIBBEAN COMPASS PAGE 19<br />

Since 1984<br />

Barefoot Yacht Charters & Marine Centre<br />

BAREBOAT CHARTERS - FULLY CREWED CHARTERS - ASA SAILING SCHOOL<br />

• Doyle Sail Loft & Canvas Shop • Raymarine Electronics • Refrigeration Work<br />

• Mechanical & Electrical Repairs • Fibreglass Repairs • Laundry<br />

• Vehicle Rentals • Showers • Air Travel<br />

• Ice & Water • Diesel & Propane • Moorings<br />

• Island Tours • Surftech Surf Shop • Hotel Reservations<br />

• Quiksilver Surf Wear • Restaurant & Bar • Boutique<br />

• On-site Accommodation • Wi-Fi / Internet Café • Book Exchange<br />

PO Box 39, Blue Lagoon, St Vincent, West Indies<br />

Tel. 1-784-456-9526 / 9334 / 9144 Fax. 1-784-456-9238<br />

barebum@vincysurf.com<br />

www.barefootyachts.com

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