Aruba

Curacao

Bonaire

Venezuela

Trinidad

Monday, November 3 - Tuesday, November 4, 2008,  Cabo de La Vela, Columbia, to Rodger’s Beach, Sint Nicolaas, Aruba, 12˚25.05N, 69˚53.27W

The anchorage was pretty rolly last night, and we didn’t get much sleep, but conditions were perfect for rounding Punta Gallinas, often a difficult passage, similar to Point Conception in California.  We knew conditions would be rough around Aruba, but we didn’t want to pass up this great window for rounding the point. 

We were right, it was NASTY six hours outside of Aruba – as bad as what we experienced in Columbia, but without the squalls.  During this passage the transducer on our wind vane went out, so now we can’t tell the wind speed, nor read the direction on our instruments; not critical, but certainly is handy.

We were so exhausted, we made some poor decisions as we neared Aruba, opting to go to this southern anchorage when we probably should have gone into the main port and checked into the country.  We’d been told by Dream Weaver that when cruise ships were in port, they had to go to another port further south to check in before they could come back to this port and their marina.  There were five cruise ships anchored outside the entrance, and we didn’t know where the other port was, which was why we decided to go to this out-of-the way-under-the-radar anchorage (Aruba Customs want you to check in before you drop anchor or get fuel).   It took us three hours just to go 10 miles, and we got there just as night was falling.

Wednesday, November 5, 2008, Airport Anchorage, Orangestaad, Aruba, 12˚30.59N, 70˚02.35W

In coming here, we were expecting a town.  There IS one, but we’re in the residential area.  We need fuel; our prospects of hailing a cab and jerry jugging it look slim, so we decided to move up island to the main port. On the way up, now hugging the coast in bright light, we were able to find the smaller port in which to check in.  As we entered the tiny channel, a submarine popped up in the water directly in front of us!  Not a sight often seen, for sure.Two other boats rafted alongside it, and tourists transferred from one to the other.

The customs dock wasn’t clearly marked, and there were boats lining the entire dock space.  After several calls to the Port Captain (who was located in Orangestaad, not here) we figured out which dock we were supposed to be on.  But the wind was so strong, we couldn’t maneuver the boat into the tiny bit of dock space that was available at the Customs office.  The boats didn’t look like they were leaving anytime soon either, as they were off-loading cargo.  We even ran aground trying to get in from a better angle.  We ended up getting permission to park on an old commercial dock in front of a bunch of piles of red rock and sand.  While we waited for an Immigration official to come, we chatted with a crew member from one of the cargo boats, a polite young man from Guyana.  He said he likes to read and there’s long stretches at sea with nothing to do, so he asked us for magazines.  We didn’t have any, but I gave him all the books we’d finished reading.  The official finally picked Jeff up; the whole process took about two hours, just to check in.  We had no problem getting off the dock in the wind.   

There’s only one marina in Oragestaad, and they didn’t have any slips available, so we ended up in the anchorage.  We also found out they closed their fuel dock three years ago (!!!) so we’ll have to jerry jug it after all.  Eighteen gallons in our three jugs should be just the safety factor we need until we get to Curacao.  There’s supposed to be a fuel dock there – let’s HOPE there is.  We don’t have a cruising guide for the ABC’s so we’re relying on word-of-mouth so to speak.

Chris Parker said the weather will continue to be nasty until Saturday, and the Buoyweather forecast agreed with him.  Looks like we’ll be here awhile.

Thursday, November 6, 2008, Airport Anchorage, Orangestaad, Aruba, 12˚30.59N, 70˚02.35W

Just after breakfast, we lowered the dink from the cabin top, loaded our jugs, and rowed ashore near a restaurant built on pilings over the water, Pinchos Bar & Grill.  It wasn’t open yet, but there were some guys doing maintenance work on the outside, so we asked if we could park our dinghy on their pier.  It was the manager, Francisco, who told us we could, just be careful of the rope lights along the edge.  I asked what time they open, 17:30, and said maybe we’d be back for cocktails, something refreshing with fruit in it.  He got this “brilliant idea” look on his face like someone had just turned on the light, and said, “Oh, you have to try my Sangria!  It’s my own recipe.  I make it a day ahead and let it steep 24 hours, and it has lots of fruit!  Take your boat around and I’ll give you a sample.”  By the time we’d paddled to the other side, there was a server already waiting at the head of the pier with two Sangrias in to-go cups.  He called a cab for us too.  Nice guy! 

Now, it was delicious, but it was 11:00 in the morning, and I wasn’t exactly ready for alcohol on a light breakfast after having spent so many days being seasick.   I sipped mine while we waited for the cab, and gave the rest to Jeff.  He had no problem with it. J

Our driver arrived in an air-conditioned mini-van; Tangee was her name, or rather her nick name.  It means “Auntie” and so many people called her that, it just stuck.  Brown and round, she spoke heavily-accented English and Papiemento, the language of the island, which is a combination of about 10 different languages.  It was weird to hear her talking on her cell phone; I’d catch snatches of Spanish words that I understood, but couldn’t make sense of. 

Her license plate, like all the others, proclaimed “Aruba – One Happy Island!”  I think they’re happy because they’re making so much money on the tourists!  As we drove around town searching out our needed stops, it looked as if there were at least 200 tourists to every islander; the town was PACKED!  Of course, there were three cruises ships just outside the bay – I wondered how bad it would be with five ships there.  The town is all shops – designer clothing, boutiques, galleries, jewelry, all the up-scale things you could possibly want, plus every American fast-food chain under the sun.  The buildings were all ship-shape, and the streets immaculate, but it was no place we wanted to explore; just too commercial for our taste.

I asked for a grocery store with a good selection, and Tangee took us to the area  between the town center and the high-rise hotels, to an IGA store called Ling & Sons.  We walked into that air-conditioned palace and felt like we’d arrived in heaven.  I couldn’t believe the vast selection of goods!!  I’d only brought a couple grocery bags and a small cooler bag because I only needed a few things.  Right!  Had I known we were going to hit such a bonanza, I would have brought my whole collection of bags, coolers and rolling carts!  Of course, it’s probably good that I didn’t because the prices reflected the up-scale selection and then-some. L

We had her take us to the customs office at the cruise ship dock in town, so we could check out, but they wouldn’t do it; said we had to go to the other office south of town, the one where we checked in.  Dang.  We’d wanted a chandlery too, but it had moved to that end, so we had her drive us out there, past the airport. 

We stopped first at the Customs Office.  Jeff was in there quite awhile, and I was beginning to get a bit worried.  He finally walked out, anger and frustration all over his face.  They said we had to bring our boat to the dock to check out, so they could SEE that we were leaving because there is no grace period for exiting, and we could only do it during their business hours, 06:00 to 22:00, which means, no first-light departure.  What ROT!!!  No other country does this; it’s as if they only know how to deal with cruise ships, and don’t know what to do with these pesky sailboats, can’t understand why they would want to leave at odd hours when they should be sleeping.  No amount of explaining or reasoning on his part would sway them.  “I don’t make the rules, I only enforce them.”  Right.  Well, in this case rules are made to be broken, for sure.

The chandlery turned out to be a bust too; it wasn’t really a general marine store – it was just a fishing supply store.  Only place that might have what we were looking for was at a small shop at the marina in town, back where we just came from. L  So we drove back to town and Tangee dropped us off at the marina.  Walking all around the shops, we finally found the little marine store; no, they didn’t have dry bags, no they didn’t have a hand-held wind indicator, but at least they DID have a cruising guide for the ABC’s – expensive as all get-out, but at least we’ll have that to help us.

Our final stop was at the gas station to fill the jugs.  The first one she took us to didn’t have diesel, but the next one did, at just under $5US per gallon.  For as many years as Tangee has been driving on this island, you’d think she would have a better handle on where things are, but I guess she doesn’t get many cruisers, as I understand very few yachts spend any time here.  I can see why.

When we got back to the site where she picked us up, we unloaded our parcels and just about dropped when she told us her fee.  For four hours it was $180US!!!   “Surely, you mean Florins???”  “No, US. It’s $45US per hour.”  Wouldn’t you know it?  After all the times we’ve haggled with taxi drivers in other countries, you’d think we’d know to get the price up front!  But we let our guard down this one time, and look what happens!  Between the two of us, we didn’t have enough money to pay her.  She accepted $160, but that still left us broke.  We debated having her take us to an ATM, but we felt so abused, we just wanted to be rid of her.  We ferried our bags to the dink and rowed back, dejected and longing to leave.

By the time evening rolled around, it was too windy for us to row to Pincho’s, which was probably just as well; we felt we’d already dropped enough dollars in Aruba.

Friday, November 7, 2008, Rodgers Beach Anchorage, Sint Nicolaas, Aruba, 12˚2  when we5.13N, 69˚53.25W

This afternoon we took Musetta back to Haven Embarcadera where we’d checked in.  With fewer boats on the dock, we had a much easier time getting in.  In order to make our destination in daylight hours, we would need to leave at first light.  So we decided to cheat: we checked out and moved to the quiet anchorage at the south end of the island that we’d stopped at when we first came in.  We figured no officials would see or bother us there, and we were right.   We leave for Santa Kruz Baai at the north end of Curacao in the morning.

Saturday, November 8, 2008, Sint Nicolaas to Spaase Water, Curacao, 12˚04.62N, 68˚51.70W

Wind and seas were calm last night and we slept well.  In fact, the conditions were so good all day, we ended up changing course and going directly to our second planned stop, Spanish Waters, at the south end of the island.  We made great time, but got slowed down near the main city, dodging all the ship traffic.  Then the fuel dock was so busy, we had to circle around a half hour to get an opening.  When we got up to the dock, the guy told us he was closing!!!  We were off by an hour’s time and didn’t even know it.  Fortunately, he’d seen us circling around, and knew we’d been waiting, so he grudgingly let us fuel up (at $4.70 a gallon), not bothering to help us with the hose or anything.

After fueling, we picked what we thought was the least-populated anchorage.  Now I know why we never saw any boats on the sea – they’re all here!!  There must be at least a thousand cruising-size sail boats here, and if you add all the smaller boats, party boats, day-runners, lazers, hobies, lanchas, etc. I’m sure the count would easily go over 5,000.  The small boat we are anchored next to is a real derelict-looking thing, ugly as sin and loaded to the lifelines with crap ont eh deck.  But the most remarkable thing is, Jeff counted SEVEN dogs aboard!!  Not just little ones either – most of them big!  SEVEN!!!

We discussed whether to go from here to Bonaire or directly to the Aves.  The cruising guide said the Aves and Roques were national parks, and there was a fee to use them.  Since we had ZERO cash, we figured we’d better go to Bonaire and find an ATM that dispenses dollars.  We weren’t checking into Curacao, were too far from shore to row, would have to take a bus into town; it just seemed like too much hassle.  Moving on seemed like the better option.

We’re trying to get to Grenada before the 21^st or so.  That’s the turning point.  We’ve been told that as long as we get to that point before Thanksgiving, we’ll be ok for going up the island chain.  If we wait later than that, the trade winds kick in and never let up, so we would have to BASH into STRONG wind, waves, current to get there.  I realize Thanksgiving is late this year, but the trades are coming in early this year.  That’s why we’re trying to rush. Once we get to Grenada, we’ll be on the leeward side of the island, and we’ll be heading North, so the trades will be on our beam, making for an easier sail – or at least that’s what we’ve been told and are hoping.  Who knows, maybe we’ll even get to actually SAIL?!?!?  What a concept!!! Once we start heading north up the islands, we have six months to get to Florida, so we should be able to slow down and enjoy the islands.  We’ll try to find out-of-the-way anchorages, because I think most of the islands are highly touristed and party places like Curacao.

Sunday, November 9, 2008, Spaase Water, Curacao, to Kralendijk, Bonaire 12˚09.19N, 68˚17.08W

With our watches and clocks set to the correct time, we left at 05:30 and arrived in Bonaire at 12:45.  the entire island is a marine park, and no anchoring is allowed because they don’t want the coral destroyed.  They have only one marina that accommodates boats smaller than 38 feet, one that takes boats over that length, and 40 mooring balls.  On the way over, we kept trying to call the marina, via VHF and cell phone both, and they never answered; perhaps they are closed on Sundays, but the guide book said otherwise.  On the VHF we kept hearing reports that there were no mooring buoys available; one boat spent the night drifting in the channel, waiting for a ball to open up!  We were coming up with all types of alternative plans, none of which were good.  Mom’s prayers worked again – there was ONE ball available when we go here. J

Jeff dumped our jerry jugs into the fuel tanks to replace what we used coming over here.  Then we lowered the dink with our jugs and rolling cart and rowed to a near-by dinghy dock.  Evidently this town closes up on Sundays, or they’re all sleeping off their hang-overs.  Very few people were out, there was no music, no cars, hardly any movement.  It was probably a half mile to the main part of town, where there were a couple bars and restaurants open.  We hadn’t had lunch yet and were famished, so took a break at one water-front restaurant.  The food was decent – not great – but rather expensive for what it was.  Then again, this is a tourist town, though not anything like Aruba.  This is a world-class destination  for divers, and the town reflects that, a laid-back mixture of funk and kitsch, eclectic touristy and nature-loving.  The water is stunning, an incredible color of turquoise, sparkling like diamonds, clear as looking at the bottom of a swimming pool.  Both of us instantly took a liking to the place, and would have liked to spend more time here just vegging out, especially doing some diving – we saw tons of colorful fish right from our boat.  But our weather guy said to make our trip to Grenada before the 15^th, because BIG weather is coming in.  For this boat, a good weather window takes precedence over looking at pretty fish; got to take advantage of this window while we can.  There will be other islands, other places to dive.

We found an ATM that dispensed dollars, and make the mile or so walk to the filling station, where we had to pay cash; good thing we hit the ATM first.  Sauntering back, I couldn’t help but spot all the seaglass on the beach.  The recent storm had churned everything up and deposited it onshore.  Most of it was still raw, but I’m sure if I spend some time, I’d have a pocket-full of pretty glass in no time.  Unfortunately, that was the problem – no time.   We took a quick swim and departed Bonaire about 17:30.  Looks like we’re on course to make Grenada before Thanksgiving.  Let’s hope all continues to go well.

I finally heard from one of the other three boats that left Cartagena when we did.  They are in Spanish Water where were yesterday, and will be leaving there at the end of the week.  They are power boats, so they hold LOTS of fuel!

Sunday, November 9 - Monday, November 10, 2008, Kralendijk, Bonaire to El Gran Roque, Venezuela, 11˚56.72N, 66˚40.84W

We had a beautiful night – calm sea, light wind, good passage.  We never saw another vessel of ANY kind until this morning as we were 30 minutes from our anchorage, but I did hear the tall-ship Simon Bolivar of the Venezuelan navy hailing other vessels on the VHF; they just weren’t close enough for us to see their lights or pick up on radar.

On my off-watch this morning, 04:00-06:00, I finally fell asleep, and dreamed I saw my Aunt Dudie.  She was healthy and smiling, full of vitality; she gave me a big hug and said something like, “I was hoping I’d see you!”  When I went on watch, I had plenty of time to comtemplate the meaning of this dream.  My friend Ginny once told me that the people in our dreams don’t necessarily mean anything, it’s more about what those people represent to us.  Dudie had a stroke a couple years ago, and now she’s unable to speak or get around much.  I think she must be trapped, fettered by her body, but in the dream she was happy to be free, and to see me, someone who is living freely.  It made me realize, I am happy to be living the life I’m living.  J

We arrived about 11:30 this morning.  While underway, the radar kept heating up and had stopped working.  It’s a good thing we didn’t arrive during the night, because it would have been extremely difficult, especially without the radar.  The anchorage has a narrow shelf in front of the island that’s about 10-20 feet; the rest of the water is over 200 feet deep. There are about nine other sailboats here, half a dozen commercial fishing vessels, two or three sport fishers, a bunch of lanchas – it’s a busy little anchorage.  With so many boats, many without anchor lights on, we wouldn’t have been able to find a spot on the shelf in the dark.

The Roques are a series of low-lying rocks, this one being the highest.  There is only a small village here; supposedly they don’t have cars on the island, and only sand roads.  It’s pretty small, so I can’t imagine why they would need cars anyway.

This was supposed to be a rest stop for us, but the watermaker quit working again on this passage.  Jeff worked on servicing it and checking the connections on the radar  while I pre-cooked finger foods for our next passages.  We’ve been moving so fast, I haven’t been able to do that. One positive thing about this fast pace: I’ve lost a lot of body fat and a few pounds too J  Let’s hope I can keep it off.   Before leaving for our next stop, Isla Blanquilla, Jeff got everything working again, at least temporarily, and we had just enough time to jump in the water for a quick dip and fresh water shower.  We’ve discovered this is a great rejeuvenator to start our passage off refreshed feeling, especially when we’re tired.

Monday, November 10 – Tuesday, November 11, 2008, El Gran Roque  to Playa Yaque, Isla La Blanquilla, Venezuela, 11˚50.36N, 64˚38.

We weighed anchor at 16:45, zig-zagged through the islands, out to open sea.  We were blessed with another beautiful, moon-lit night and calm conditions, but only up until about 02:00 when the first squall hit.  They continued through the night.  The worst conditions are always in the wee hours of the morning.  It’s as if the wind and sea gods, with no celestial orbs ruling them during those hours, come out to kick up their heels in defiance.

The squalls brought heavy winds so we had to keep zig-zagging off course to keep the pressure off the helm.  This added about six hours to our passage time, and six extra hours of fuel. L  We dropped anchor at a beach with six other sailboats already here.  We’ll wait to hear from Chris Parker about the weather before we decide whether to continue on or not.  If we have to hang here for awhile, this place isn’t too bad; in fact, it looks just like the area of the Sea of Cortez, Mexico, except there are two scraggly palm trees on the beach.  Other than a National Guard unit stationed further down the coast, this island is uninhabited.

Wednesday, November 12 – Thursday, November 13, 2008,  Playa Yaque, Isla La Blanquilla, to Punta Real, Isla Testigo Grande, Venezuela, 11˚22.99N, 63˚08.14W

Chris Parker said the squalls we experienced were a fluke, “The squalls this morning were generated by a TROF, maybe enhanced by the ITCZ, which settled S-ward into your area, and which I had not anticipated.”  So the squalls may have been a fluke, but it’s still winds on our nose all the way to Grenada. We decided to head for Los Testigos, hoping to get a better angle of approach, plus it would give us a place to stop and rest; otherwise going direct to Grenada would take us three LONG days.

We weighed anchor at 12:45 on flat seas under overcast skies.  True to our calculations by taking the heading to Testigos and pointing a little off our rhumb line, we were able to get some lift from the sails, increasing our speed by a couple knots.  Though the wind was not strong enough to proceed under sail alone, we were able to run the engine at fewer RPMs, hopefully saving a little fuel.  It’s been so long since we’ve done any real sailing, when we first went to tack, we did really lousy!!  My how rusty we’ve gotten, not that we were much good to being with!  I think we’re “mariners” but not necessarily “sailors,” if there’s a distinction.  But our theory only worked the first part of the passage.  By 22:00, the wind was moving south, directly on our nose again.  What happened to all those easterly winds we’ve been having???

Along the way, a large pod of dolphins joined us, leaping at the bow, their gray-dappled sides and pink bellies glistening.  They are 1/3 to ½ the size of their Pacific brethren, but still fun to watch.  We also saw one fish or dolphin – couldn’t tell which from the distance – jumping straight up in the air and spinning.  Cool!

We had a little incident with the aft head.  I went below to check on something and discovered the sole of the aft head awash, water sloshing up the bulkhead and over the retainer board, the waste can full of water.  It seems the anti-siphon valve was not working, being on a heel allowed water to back into the head.  Another thing we’ll have to check on during our watches, another thing we’ll have to replace.  The water-maker also quit working – AGAIN!  That dang thing has been nothing but problems on this trip!  At least we know we’ll be getting to a port soon; hopefully there will be a slip open in a marina so we can fill the tanks again.

We dodged a few squalls along the way, one that sidled up next to us, dropping rain, but we were spared the massive winds.

Our arrival at Isla Testigo Grande at 07:30 was just a half hour later than we had originally calculated.  Now, seeing how the wind and currents have changed, it probably didn’t help us any to go SE to these islands just to go NE to Grenada.  However, given the choice, I would do it again.  Mainly because it affords a rest stop for us; neither of us function well on limited sleep, and slogging upwind for 36 hours just wouldn’t be pleasant.  Secondly because to my eye, this is the most beautiful island we’ve seen this trip!

This group of islands is mountainous, covered in verdant foliage, pretty white sand beaches dotted with a few palm trees, two or three tiny homes nestled under trees at the water’s edge, a small fishing camp in one cove, colorful lanchas at anchor, clear turquoise water.  I could EASILY hang here awhile!

There are six other sailboats anchored in the vicinity, probably more further down the island.  As we were approaching, we saw another leaving, and another entering.  The old cruising guide we’re using says these islands are rarely visited; obviously they’ve been “discovered.”  I’m glad we discovered them too.

Our fuel consumption was exactly as calculated, so we should have plenty to make the run to Grenada.  The LAST run!  We’ll eat, shower, take a nap, and leave this evening, planning on an 18 – 20 hour passage again.  Almost there!

Friday, November 14, 2008, Punta Real, Isla Testigo Grande, Venezuela, 11˚22.99N, 63˚08.14W

We lost our weather window.  It slammed tight! When I pulled up a buoy weather report yesterday, the winds and seas had built too high, and out of the ENE, right on our nose AGAIN.  We’ve decided to wait here at Los Testigos until the winds die a bit, then make a run to Trinidad, possibly Tobago.  From there we should have the wind and current on our aft quarter.  SO CLOSE! L

Here I was thinking we’d be in a marina soon to fill the water tanks, and now we’ll have to ration what we have.  We’re also not using any lights, minimal electricity to save from running the generator and burning fuel.  We have just enough fuel to make Trinidad, but don’t know when we’ll be able to leave; the weather looks pretty strong all week.

For the first time in weeks, we actually got a bit of recreation.  We rowed to the beach on Isla Piqueño and walked it end to end.  I was reminded of how in the Sea of Cortez it was a daily event to walk the beach; Abbie always knew, “we go this way to the end, we turn around, go that way to the end, go back to the dinghy.” J  She was such a smart girl, that Abbie.  STILL I miss her, still I dream of her.

What a pretty place this is!  There’s a reef between Isla Grande and Isla Piqueño.  The rocks on each side of it are home to scurrying crabs and all manner of tide pool critters.  On the Isla Grande side, the boulders are covered with a rich, green creeping plant – not exactly a moss but more like a ground cover.  At the top of the hill on Isla Piqueño you can look down into startling clear turquoise water and the small fish camp around the point from where we’re anchored.  The inviting water is cool enough to refresh, yet warm enough to stay in as long as you like.  For us, that was only 20 minutes or so; an ominous clump of black clouds were steamrolling their way to us.

We walked the dink to the head of the reef and launched from there so we wouldn’t be fighting the current back to Musetta.  We prepared for an onslaught, but only got some increased wind – that time, anyway.  By sundown, the wind was really howling.  I put every pan and bowl we have out on the decks, hoping to catch some rain water. We’ll see.

Saturday, November 15, 2008, Punta Real to Balandra Bay, Isla Testigo Grande, Venezuela, 11˚22.99N, 63˚06.78W

Last night there were really strong winds, waves crashing over the reef top.  We were anchored right by the reef; since there were so many other boats when we arrived, that was the only place we could find room.  With all the noise of the wind in the mast and rigging, and the boat pitching side to side, we didn’t get much sleep.  We heard on the weather report this morning that a Tropical Wave is coming in, bringing squalls with up to 50 knot winds.  There’s a possibility this will develop into a Tropical Storm, which is one step below a hurricane.  Looks like we’ll be here awhile.

As pretty as this site is, we opted to move to a  more stable anchorage at the south end of the island.  There was only one mono-hull in the middle of the small bay, and a catamaran in the corner where we planned to anchor.  As we were pulling in, the woman on the catamaran swam out to us and pointed out where her anchor was so we wouldn’t be on top of it.  We made several attempts to anchor, trying to stay well away from them, but still get some protection from the small reef that extends out from the point.  We ended up a little closer than we wanted but once we ran a line to shore and snugged our stern in so the bow was always pointed into the swell, we had plenty of clearance, and our bow anchor was buried up to the shaft in sand, so we are secure.  (She goes around topless, and both bathe in the nude off the swim platform in broad daylight.  They’re French. J)

Amazing how different this side of the island is from the other.  Boulders ascend the mountain, interspersed with spindly cacti, bright green shrubs, and rich green trees.  Jeff spotted a black goat clamoring up the rocks, and in the late afternoon we could hear the babies bleating, the adults responding, sort of an echo location system.

One fishing boat anchored next to us.  I put out our bowls and pans again.  Last night we collected a little over a gallon of rain water, so we’ll have something to drink for the next few days anyway.  With these overcast days, the solar panels can’t put out much energy, and if we use power onboard we have to run the generator, which takes fuel.  I don’t want to use any if at all possible, so we’ve been dining by lantern and candlelight, reading in bed with flashlights like sneaky kids at summer camp.  If we have to be holed up for weather, this is a nice place to be! 

Sunday, November 16, 2008, Balandra Bay, Isla Testigo Grande, Venezuela, 11˚22.99N, 63˚06.78W

Overcast, drizzly skies today.  We didn’t get any squalls last night, but steady rain this afternoon gave us 1.5 liters of water.  It tastes sweet, different than RO water.

We got in a little snorkeling today, not spectacular but I suspect it would have been more colorful had we bright, sunny skies.  The biggest attraction was the variety of coral: beautiful fan coral, gracefully waving in the current, with a vivid purple base, silvery-lavender veins running through lacy leaves of golden toast-color, their edges trimmed in ivory fringe; spiny lavender coral looking like a thousand slender fingers waggling at you; sturdy brain coral with fleck of blood-red veins.  One of my favorite sea plants looks like a bushy feather boa, the current ruffling it as if in a light breeze.  There were also lots of long, tubular plants, moss green with bright green rings at their tips, like something exotic you’d like to put in your martini.  I spotted an interesting plaid trumpet fish hovering perpendicular to the sea bed next to a fan coral, not exactly blending in but still enough (as in motionless) to hide with the swaying leaves.  Another fish had the colors and markings that reminded me of Indian corn, and yet another was so perfectly dappled in white and tan, it blended right in with the sandy bottom – clever disguise, that one.

We had our dive skins on, so were able to stay in as long as we wanted without getting cold.  On the way back to the boat, I was so intent on looking at the sea bed, I wasn’t paying attention to what was ahead and THUNKED right into the hull of the fishing boat that had anchored near us!

We hung our suits and skins on the boom in the rain to rinse off the salt.  By evening the anchorage had become more populated. Two more catamarans and three fishing boats anchored next to the French boat, three more fishing boats anchored next to the one on our port side. This has become a popular place!  I don’t know if it’s because of the weather or what, but we’ll put our bowls and pans out again tonight.

Poor Jeff, I’ve become a Fresh Water Nazi and an Amperage Autocrat.  With the report of a possible tropical storm hitting, there’s no telling how long we’ll have to sit here.  As cook, I’ve got to make sure our limited water supply lasts, and as the chief worry wart, I want to make sure we don’t burn what limited fuel we have by running the generator.  If we eliminate the use of lights, electronics, appliances, chargers, etc., we can almost get by solely on the solar panels as long as we have some bright sunshine; overcast days like today, they don’t work - we had to run the generator.  I let him watch a movie last night, but talked him out of turning the computer on to play music this morning – those computers eat up amps quick as a pacman.  Yesterday I wouldn’t let him do a fresh-water rinse on the swim platform.  I showed him how to do a PTA with a washcloth and a pint of water.  He’s not happy about losing our creature comforts, but knows that my skimping may be for the best.  Today after we snorkeled, he stood in the rain to wash the salt off.  Poor guy.  By lantern light, in the evening, we played a rousing card game that my sister gave us.

Monday, November 17, 2008, Balandra Bay, Isla Testigo Grande, Venezuela, 11˚22.99N, 63˚06.78W

No rain last night, so we didn’t have any water collected this morning.  The neighboring catamaran with the topless lady left this morning, the other cruising boats in the afternoon, the fishing boat next to us is till here, and four more have joined them. 

We caught sketchy bits of the weather report this morning.  Apparently it’s really nasty out on the seas, but here in our mountain-surrounded bay, we are quite protected.  In fact, the sun is so bright this morning the water literally sparkles, like looking down in a swimming pool.  We thought perhaps this was the day we should have gone – it’s so hard to know.  We’re waiting for an email response from Chris Parker, the weather guy.

Both of us worked on projects, the baby goats called for their mommas, the music thumped from a fishing boat, and another day slipped by.  In the evening, a local coast guard boat paid us a visit, requesting to see our papers.  The young man that came aboard was very polite, spoke English well, and efficiently took care of the paperwork.  I didn’t realize, there’s a Coast Guard base right here in Los Testigos, on Isla Iguana.  I asked about buying diesel, either from them or in the little village here, but they only had gasoline and “gas-oil”, which I presume is some kind of premix.  I also asked about the mainland coastline; we’d heard it was very dangerous – lots of petty theft, piracy, and even assault and murder.  One incident in August this year, as reported in CrewLife magazine, left 3 cruisers hospitalized and 1 dead, which is why we’ve been avoiding going there for fuel.  He confirmed, it IS dangerous, best to stay away.  Nice guy.

Tuesday, November 18, 2008, Balandra Bay, Isla Testigo Grande, Venezuela, 11˚22.99N, 63˚06.78W

Chris Parker heard us hailing him on the VHF this morning.  He said if we leave, do it today or tomorrow, expect squalls with winds up to 35-40 knots; Friday through Sunday will be really nasty, and Monday will be better.  As anxious as we are to get going (oh, what I’d give to stand under a warm fresh-water shower!), we both felt it would be safer for us and easier on Musetta if we wait until Monday.  With just a little bit of rain last night, and bright sunny skies again today, it’s hard to believe there’s such horrendous squall activity at sea.  But we hired Chris for his expertise, so we’d better listen to what he says.  We certainly don’t want another passage like the one from Cartagena to 5-Bays!

So we practice the art of patience – with rationed water and electricity.  I spent the day in the galley, and Jeff polished the interior brass. At dusk we both came up to the cockpit to enjoy the cool breezes and the ambient sounds.  There are now two fishing boats by us, one of them about 50 feet long, and well cared for.  The smaller one is pretty rustic, with no cabin, just a bimini, yet those fishermen spend night after night on that boat.  I wonder how they manage.  Here we are, in a nice, comfortable boat – full galley, comfy bed, books and chores to keep us occupied; they are living in an open boat.  I’m awed by how tough and hard-working these fishermen are.  Today they were playing maracas and drumming on something.   I wonder about their outlook on life: are they happy with their lot?  Do they want more?  What happens when they’re too old to work?  What about their families – how do they manage with the head of he household gone all the time?  Is their life as uncomplicated as it seems?

Wednesday, November 19, 2008, Balandra Bay, Isla Testigo Grande, Venezuela, 11˚22.99N, 63˚06.78W

It looks like we have a very short window where the squalls abate somewhat, Sunday through Tuesday; after that, it’s a mess again.  This means no time for sight-seeing again.  It’s a 24-hour passage to Trinidad, where we’d need to check into the country and fuel up.  That and a rest break would take all of Monday, so we would leave early Tuesday for Tobago (one LONG day passage), Wednesday for Grenada, another over-night passage.  It’s possible we’ll be able to skip Tobago and get to Grenada easily from Trinidad, all depends on the weather and sea conditions that day – they’re changing all the time.  Our biggest problem is squalls: when we’re slogging into the wind and against the current, we go really slow and burn a lot of fuel.  If there’re squalls, they bring additional strong, swirling winds, lately in the 35-40 knot range.  With our open cockpit, we have no way to stay dry; water comes in over the dodger, under the dodger, over the gunwales, under the bimini; we are drenched from hours.  Plus, in conditions like that, neither of us can rest; we’re both on watch, working the sheets, watching the radar and sea for other boats, etc.; it’s very difficult.  That’s why we try not to make passage in squally weather.

It continues to be mild and breezy in our snug little corner.  There haven’t been any squalls at night, so we are unable to collect rain water, though our water tank levels seem to be holding out; we haven’t tapped into the back-up tank yet, so we should be fine through next week if we continue our conservation techniques.  We found one type of soap we have lathers even in salt water, so we bathe in the sea, and use our pint of fresh water to rinse the salt off.  This of course does not include my thick head of hair; it would take GALLONS to get the salt out of it, so it’s just grungy, as is my swimsuit, which smells form lack of fresh water rinse after the salt water dip.  I hope the smell will come out when I can properly wash it.

The fishing boats come and go each morning and evening.  Near as I can figure, the larger boat is like the mother ships; the lanchas go out and do the fishing, they bring their catch back to the big boat where the crew aboard does the cleaning of the fish.  You should see the flocks of pelicans following the lanchas in!  While the fish is being transferred, they gather in the water on the side of the boat, waiting for any stray bit or piece, incessant beggars and thieves.

There is a gentleness of life here.  While it’s been frustrating to wait, it’s also forced us to relax.  Both Jeff and I have been mulling over future plans, each in our own way.  Today we gave voice to them and found out we are both on the same wave length.  (Good thing, huh?)  As you know, I’m always looking ahead, never without goals.  They may change along the way, but I’m never content to just sit and live life without direction. J

Thursday, November 20, 2008, Balandra Bay, Isla Testigo Grande, Venezuela, 11˚22.99N, 63˚06.78W

When we woke this morning, the freezer had stopped running during the night and was beginning to thaw.  Even though we weren’t doing anything differently, the batteries had dropped too low for it to run.  We had to fire up the generator and let it chug for several hours, the first time in quite a few days.  Being cautious with our power consumption, the solar panels have been able to meet our needs up until now.  That’s comforting to me because I know we haven’t been using up fuel, and will have enough to make Trinidad.

Now that the sweet rain water is gone, I can hardly bring myself to sip the awful R.O. water; it’s filmy, tastes salt, and is just nasty tasting.  Jeff can’t tell any difference, but it’s driving me crazy.  No wonder we’re always thirsty – we’re drinking salt water!  And the yogurt that I make from powdered milk hasn’t been turning out; it foams, clumps, and separates.  I tried different starter, different milk, same results.  Now I know, the problem is the water.

I’ve grown fond of this little bay, with its swimming pool water, light breezes, rugged scenery, industrious fishermen, and bleating baby goats – all without bugs!  It would be more comfortable if we had plenty of water and electricity, but you make this most of what you’ve got, right?

It’s looking like our departure date is Sunday

Friday, November 21, 2008, Balandra Bay, Isla Testigo Grande, Venezuela, 11˚22.99N, 63˚06.78W

This morning our battery levels were 10.3 (from 14+), the lowest they’ve even been.  Though we ran the generator several hours, they need to be topped up with shore power.

No squalls here last night, but we could see weather off in the distance.  Today the wind was more blustery, white caps visible on the sea. This wave is supposed to start calming down on Sunday, so that’s still looking like our departure date.

Saturday, November 22, 2008, Balandra Bay, Isla Testigo Grande, Venezuela, 11˚22.99N, 63˚06.78W

Not much happening; though we could see white caps out at sea, we’ve been quite snug in our little bay.  I finished a good book called “The Captain’s Wife” by Douglas Kelly, historical fiction based on the true story of 19-year-old Mary Patten, who commandeered a clipper ship around Cape Horn when her husband, the captain, fell ill.  The author’s description of how the ship functioned and life at sea was exciting and authentic.

Jeff finished polishing all the interior brass today, only to find that the parts he started with have already started to tarnish. L  Weather still looks good to go.  This evening I allowed us each a short, fresh-water shower.  Oh! The sheer pleasure!!!

Sunday, November 23 – Monday November 24, 2008, Isla Testigo Grande, Venezuela to Scotland Bay, Trinidad, 10˚42.05N, 61˚39.89W

Another year I forgot it’s our wedding anniversary; Jeff had to remind me. L  I’m so bad!

All week we’ve had clear skies, light breezes, yesterday we had strong wind and rain.  I don’t understand it – all week the weather report was NASTY at sea and supposed to be clearing today – just the exact opposite of what we’re seeing.  Perhaps it’s just because we’re in our protected little bay here.  Hopefully it will clear as the day progresses.

We’re both anxious to get going, but dread the long passage, another 22 hours run.  Chris says not to make the next moves until after Wednesday, so we’ll be passage-making on Thanksgiving, and thinking of you all.

We weighed anchor at 10:15 Sunday morning under a light sprinkling of rain.  Swell and wind was a little higher than predicted, but not too uncomfortable.  When we rounded the island, we saw two other sailboats headed in the direction of Grenada.  We were so tempted to follow them, we tacked over in the same direction.  Even thought he wind and swells were light, we were still BASHING directly into them.  After about 10 minutes, we decided we’d had enough of that type of passage, and turned back towards Trinidad.  We only had one light squall the whole passage.

Even with the current against us, we still made great time, never dropping below 6 knots, often close to 7, and by the time we reached the water around Trinidad with their light current, we were doing over 8.5 knots.  In fact, we arrived at Trinidad around 01:00, HOURS earlier than we’d anticipated, so decided to cheat like we did in Aruba.  We anchored at Scotland Bay, a small cove on the north side.  Navigating through the channel on a moon-less night was unnerving, especially since we’d forgotten to get the unlock codes for the Trinidad area on our electronic charts – all we saw were blocks.  When we got to the bay, we realized there were several boats in here with no anchor lights on – sailboats included – turkeys!  Then it took us three tried to get the anchor to grab.  But we are settled for the night, tomorrow morning we’ll go around the point to Chaguaramas and check in.  Since the squalls are supposed to start back up tonight (Monday) through Wednesday, we’ll probably hang here a few days, maybe do some sight-seeing before we head to Tobago.  From there, I’m certain we’ll have an easy run to Grenada because the current will be helping us instead of going against us, and we’ll be at a much better angle to the wind and swells – IF predictions hold true.

 Monday November 24, 2008, Scotland Bay, Trinidad to Chaguaramas, Trinidad 10˚40.84N, 61˚38.00W

After getting the anchor set, we slept like the dead.  I heard the fishing boat leave the anchorage early this morning, but was pretty much out until well after 0900.  Our first real view of Trinidad was as if our eyes were looking upon Eden: we were in a still-water sliver of a bay, sliced into a mountain.  Tall, green leafy trees covering the terrain were as thick as the hair on my head.  Howler monkeys roared their warnings, and the air smelled lush and green.  There were only one or two small homes along the edge, and a couple small beaches at which local families played.  In addition to the two sailboats without anchor lights, there are three more at the top of the bay. 

Jeff checked the fuel tank levels; we had about 20 gallons left! We left for Chaguaramas around 11:00 to check in and hit the fuel dock.

Tuesday November 25, 2008, Power Boats Marina, Chaguaramas, Trinidad 10˚40.84N, 61˚38.00W

Yesterday was so frustrating, I couldn’t bring myself to write; I just wanted to put it all behind me.  The beautiful scenery in Scotland Bay offered such promise; the sullen, customs officers and the inhospitable laws left us feeling abused and unwelcome.

Leaving Scotland Bay, we made it the short distance to Chaguaramas in no time, but I was glad we didn’t try to do it at night!  We were greeted by the sight of a metropolis of masts – more than we’d even seen in our life!  It looked like the water-version of the a parking lot at the local mall at Christmas time.  Even the designated anchorage area looked so packed, I doubted we would have been able to find space in the moonless night.  Plus, the guide we have is old, and there appeared to be much more development along the waterfront than showed in our book.  We found our way to the Customs dock, but it was so small, we had to wait for the two boats that were already there to clear out.  We circled in the tight fairway about 45 minutes.  Once settled on the dock, we climbed the stairs to the Customs office, were directed to Immigration first (just in the next building), but found they were closed for lunch.  Not much we could do but wait.

We walked over to the Crews Inn Hotel and Marina to see if they had a slip available; the person who handles that was out to lunch.  I picked up a local boaters magazine in the hotel lobby to read while we’re waiting.  The news didn’t look good: Pirate attacks had been reported off the coast of Trinidad, and the Trinidad government had suspended sales of diesel to all foreign-flagged vessels!  Oh brother, NOW WHAT?!?!  My stomach was in knots.  How will we get to Grenada?

We bought a few things at the mini-mart, then walked up a block to the YSATT office, the organization that acts as liaison between boaters and the government.  Catherine, the administration officer, was extremely helpful.  She told us we can now buy fuel, but only at the Power Boats Marina dock, where they have a special tank, with a special price (about $4.00 per gallon) for foreigners.  She also told us it’s best not to anchor out because the bay is so fouled with old metal and things, the anchors can catch and we won’t be able to get them up; they’d have to be cut off.  There’s no WAY we could have done this in the middle of the night!  YSATT has mooring balls out there, and she showed us where one or two may possibly be available.  She also called another company that has mooring balls; at first they said, Ok, we can take one of their balls; then a few minutes later, they called back and said it wasn’t worth their trouble just for three nights, so they wouldn’t rent it to us.  All afternoon I kept my fingers crossed and hoped for the best.

Back in the Immigration office when they opened, we had to fill out lots of papers  - FIVE copies of some of them, using the barest carbon paper imaginable.  With a little teasing from Jeff, the woman who helped us finally cracked a smile and became more personable.  She told us since we only plan to spend one night in Tobago just to stage our run to Grenada, we wouldn’t have to check out there; we could check out in Trinidad.  The Customs officers, however, were downright surly.  Again, the multiple copies of forms with crappy carbon paper, but they only allow you to have ONE HOUR after checking-out!  That isn’t even enough time to get back to your boat and ready to go, let alone being out of the country!  They insisted we tell them where we would be staying, even though we didn’t yet know if we would have a marina slip or a mooring ball; we explained that we couldn’t raise anyone on the radio after multiple tries, we needed to get fuel at Power Boats Marina, and while there we’d see if they had space for us; if not, we would try to find a mooring ball in the anchorage.  They could have cared less whether we stayed or not; we ended up just guessing as to where we’d be, just so they would have something to fill in on their form.   They also wanted us to declare all our flares, the quantity, type – it was ridiculous! 

When finally finished, we motored to the Power Boats Marina fuel dock.  Fortunately there were no other boats on the dock, so we were able to sidle up to the dock easily – good thing, too because the wind was really picking up by now.  The fuel dock worker just stood there and watched us, didn’t help with the lines until we asked him; he told a young woman, another employee, to grab the bow line; she did, but just stood there holding it; I kept telling her to cleat it off, and she just stood the and there!  I ended up doing both the mid-ship and bow myself.  There was MORE 5-copy-part forms with lousy carbon paper which had to be filled out before we could pump fuel.  While Jeff was doing that, I walked up to the office to see about a slip.  The two women in the office were extremely nice; one gave me a slip number and said she wasn’t sure if a boat was in there or not; check it out, if we want it, we can have it, otherwise they’re full.  Another cruiser that was in the office volunteered to show me where it was, since he was heading that way.  The “slip” was in a “creek”, two pilings that you back between into the shore.   There was a security guard sitting there; I told him that we would be pulling into the slip, and asked if he would help us with our lines.  “No.  I don’t know how to do it.”  I couldn’t believe it!  How tough is it to catch a line????  And it’s not like he’s never seen it done before!  I walked back to the office tell her we’d take it, with my stomach in knots; I hope we can make it in there.

Back on the fuel dock, I pumped while Jeff stayed below and checked the tank levels (there are no gauges).  The two fuel attendants were just standing around talking the whole time.  When we finished, the guy didn’t bother to take the pump for me; just watched.  I asked him if he would help us with our lines, “oh yah, yah.”  But he didn’t; he just kept hanging out in his little booth.  We fired up the engine, released the mid-ship line; I asked again for help, “Right, right.”  He did nothing!  We’d run the lines back to the boat and I ended up releasing them all myself.  We had heard that service in the Caribbean is non-existent – it seemed we were getting prime examples today.

We motored around the corner into the creek.  By now it was about 16:30 and the wind was howling.  Jeff had a real tough time maneuvering the boat – the wind kept catching it.  This is where bow-thrusters would REALLY be handy!  We tried three times, each time going out of the creek into the mooring field to turn around and start over.  There were quite a few cruisers on shore ready to catch lines, some on the boats to each side of the pilings, all of them telling me what to do.  I got SO FRUSTRATED I yelled “I got too many captains telling me what to do!”  L  In the end, we couldn’t get Musetta to back down; we had to put her in bow first, which made it difficult to get off the boat.  Ah well, we’ll only be here a few days.

The final straw for this awful day:  I called C-MAP to get unlock codes for the charts we wanted.  I was told our CD was too old; I would have to get a new version, and the only way I can get it is to have them mail it to me!  No amount of pleading or explaining made any difference.  We would just have to sail without electronic charts until we can get somewhere where we can received packages.  What a nightmare!

I spent the day today doing laundry here at the marina – six loads in the first coin-op laundromat I’ve seen in ages.  Waiting for loads, I chatted with several cruisers, all who told us their version of the attacks on boats heading to Grenada.  Not good.

Tuesday November 25, 2008, Power Boats Marina, Chaguaramas, Trinidad 10˚40.84N, 61˚38.00W

We walked along the road outside the marina, stopping at the Budget Marine (the Caribbean version of West Marine), and finding the travel agent who handles the tours for Jesse James, a local guy who caters to cruisers.  From what the other cruisers told me, it sounds like he puts together some interesting tours; if we were staying here longer, we’d definitely book him.  As it is, we only hired him for a short trip to the Asa Wright Nature Preserve, up in the mountains.  It’s usually followed by an evening trip to the mangrove swamp to see the red ibises flying in to roost, but swamps, mangroves, evening – that’s a recipe for disaster for me, bug bites galore.  We opted out of that one.  Tour is tomorrow.

We ate lunch at the small dock-side restaurant in the marina, expensive and food nothing special, but I had my first taste of “callaloo” the ubiquitous green soup of the Caribbean.  Our server explained how they eat it with their meal, using it as a condiment for their food.  It was okay, nothing wonderful; the flavor reminded me of nopales, and the texture was thick with a somewhat slimy mouth feel.  I thought it needed to be sparked up a bit, and when I asked her for some limes to squirt into it she looked at me like I was crazy.  “In Trinidad we don’t do that!”  Ok, but can I please have some limes?  She conveniently forgot, no doubt unconsciously trying to keep me from committing a mortal sin or felony by adding limes to the callaloo.  After asking again, she brought me three wedges of lime, the tiniest slivers I’ve ever seen; to my palate, the acidity improved the flavor profile somewhat, but it still needed some doctoring. 

Wednesday November 26, 2008, Power Boats Marina, Chaguaramas, Trinidad 10˚40.84N, 61˚38.00W

Jesse met us at the front gate, right on time.  He’d found another couple to share the ride with us, so he even had a small refund for us – certainly not the kind of guy his name reminds us of! 

On our long drive to The Asa Wright Nature Preserve, Jesse filled us in with Trinidadian history and trivia, pointing out the factory where imported bauxite is transformed into aluminum, the reclaimed land in the capital city Port of Spain that once was a mangrove forest, the Fernando’s Black Label Rum bar in Point Cumana village where The Andrews Sisters’ famous “Rum & CocaCola” song was written in World War II.  (A little background on that: the Americans had all the money, and the mother and daughter in the song who are “working for the American dollar” were NOT doing laundry or cleaning, they were engaged in the age-old profession.)  He also noted an anise seed estate, cocoa trees with pods on the trunks AND branches, the Angostura Bitters factory and the former sugar cane fields that the owner developed into housing.  No tours at that factory as the formula of herbs and spices is a closely-guarded secret; in fact, they even import all kinds of herbs and plants that aren’t necessarily used in the formula – they’re just to throw off anyone who may be watching them unloading, trying to figure out what goes into the beverage.  Supposedly only five men know the formula.  Must make for interesting working conditions in the factory.

Trinidad was a British colony (which is why they drive on the opposite side of the road as in the US), gaining partial independence in 1964 under the control of the queen’s governor general, then became a full republic in 1976.  It is home to Brian Lara, a world-famous cricket player who is listed in the Guinness Book of Records for the most runs, and is the birthplace and finest manufacturer of steel pan drums (that would be an interesting tour, no doubt.)  Oil was discovered on the island in 1925, and it quickly surpassed all other exports.  In fact, as big business often abuses workers, the Trinidadians were no exception; they went on strike, and along with the country’s first prime minister, affected the drive for independence.  Because oil became such an important export, many estates of coffee and cocoa were abandoned, but thankfully are now starting to be revived. 

The population is approximately 40% East Indian, 40% African, 20% Chinese, French Creole, and other; 35% Catholic, 25% Hindu, and 12% Muslim.  In the early years of it’s discovery, in order to own land you had to be Catholic; much of the land was given to freed servants as reward for their service but they had to convert to Catholicism in order to receive it, hence so many Catholics.  Still, with so many locals of Hindu faith, we passed numerous homes with prayer flags in the yards, indicating to which god they are praying.

While the island is not volcanic, is does shift one centimeter every year into the Atlantic.  It is 1,865 square miles, with its highest peak 3,085 feet above sea level.  In fact, the Asa Wright Nature Preserve is located in the rain forest foothills of the Arima Valley.  Halfway to the center, we stopped at a corner where locals were gathered around a mobile catering truck.  Jesse bought each of us two of his favorite Trinidadian specialties, Doubles and Saheene.  A Double is made with dough of flour, baking powder and egg, deep fried but still soft, filled with a mixture of saffron, mild curry, chick peas and chutney, and topped with cilantro.  The Saheene is made of calloloo leaves (which happen to be high in iron) stacked then rolled and sliced, topped with split pea powder, deep fried and finished with mango chutney.  Both were delicious, though filling and heavy to us who are not accustomed to deep-fried foods.

Just outside the Asa Wright Nature Preserve, as we rounded a bend in the road, our view opened to spectacular vine-covered mountainsides.  These were the christofine crop of the largest plantation on the island, christofine being the Caribbean name for chayote.  The vines were strung on net webbing, completely covering the hillsides.  Just as we stopped for that Kodak moment, a worker popped up out of the vines, freshly harvested vegetables in hand, which he generously gave to us.  Though the crop is most prolific during the wet season, he is assured of year-round work as each piece needs to be picked by hand.  I couldn’t imagine climbing up and down those steep slopes day after day, a heavy basket hanging from my shoulder!

If you get a chance to read the book “1,000 Places to Visit Before You Die,” you’ll probably see the 1200-acre Asa Wright Nature Preserve listed.  In 1967 the former private estate became the Caribbean’s first facility developed for conservation.  It’s a premier destination for bird-watchers, and has several waterfalls and miles of hiking trails.  Because it was a bit drizzly today, we didn’t get to see many birds; none-the-less, our knowledgeable guide, Daniel, did a terrific job keeping us engaged.  He pointed out a 200-year-old mango tree; monkey ladder vines; bamboo stands, the world’s largest grass, which grows 4 to 5 inches per day and have roots 30 – 40 feet deep; the cashew tree, with 200 – 300 fruits but only one nut per fruit; termites, that feed only on dead trees, and if you eat them, supposedly taste like mint or carrots.  He invited us to scoop some up and try them, but I certainly wasn’t going for that!  And who’d have believed that ant colonies could be so fascinating!  He pointed out the soldier ants – big guys, almost an inch long, with huge pinchers - and the worker ants – two sizes: big, to carry the leaves, and the small ones who ride on top of the leaves keeping away wasps from laying eggs on the leaves.  Each colony has only one queen, whose line may last 25 – 30 years, in nests that can run up to a quarter mile in length.  We also caught sight of a Fer de Lance, one of the world’s most deadly snakes; it was surprisingly small, but packs a big wallop of venom.  Though we didn’t catch sight of the “bearded bellbird” of the Asa Wright logo, we did hear this loudest-calling bird of the rain forest, its distinctive “THOCK” echoing through the forest.

On our way back down the hill, Jesse showed us the famous calaloo plant, it’s edible leaves becoming the ubiquitous condiment/stew of the Caribbean, it’s root the starchy “dashim” used in soups and stews.   He also gave us a quick lesson on the intricate hand signals that hitch-hikers use to indicate where they want to go.  Passing the bus yard (the busses are actually commuter-type vans known as “maxi-taxi’s”), he noted the different primary-colored stripes on the side of the bus indicate the direction of the route; for example, all busses with a yellow stripe go to the south end of the island.  What a simple idea!

Had we planned on staying longer in Trinidad, I’m sure we would have booked more tours with Jesse, as it’s clear this amiable fellow has great pride in his country and loves showing visitors the true off-the-beaten-path Trinidad.