While I’m cooling my heel in Vietnam; a great place to do so, while Dauntless waits for better weather to head north this coming summer and fall, I seem to hear the sirens calling.
The problem is, after having moved south and west for the last 12 months and 7,000 miles, passing west thru the Panama Canal and up the west coast of Central America, with Alaska, the Aleutians, Japan, Korea and Taiwan in our sights, the Sirens are calling be back with a distinct Irish brogue.
Your thinking WTF, what the F do you think I’m feeling???
I’m the one who put in the miles, the time, the big ass seas and certainly the money to get where we are.
Yet, I can’t watch a Harry Potter movie, an episode of Borderland, the Fall and certainly Jack Taylor, without missing Northern Europe, Scotland and Ireland. For my tastes, certainly the best cruising since leaving New England.
Is it nostalgia?
Or just the realization that in my last 20,000 miles of cruising, the longest lasting relationships (excluding Krogenites, of course) have come from the Baltic and the Celtic areas of Galicia, Ireland and Scotland.
Waterford
Coincidence? or the Sirens?
I have a tendency to think it’s the latter. What else could explain my obsession with Europe, while I still have Asia and a few more oceans to cross at best??
So where do we go from here? I’ll do what I do best, think and plan.
I’ve dropped my watch a number of times on my tile floor. A couple of times, the crystal has popped off. Just
My Skagen
pressuring it back on was simple.
Then, once the face also came off, as well as the minute hand. That took a bit more effort and thought to put straight.
Two weeks ago, I dropped it yet again, while thinking that I better not drop it, and this time the damage was extensive, it that all the pieces came apart.
This was not a simple fix. I tried; for days. Two of the pins were obvious. But there was smaller brass peace only a 6 mm in diameter that for the life of me, I could not get to fit. Worse, I was not even sure how it fit.
I took pictures, I enlarged those pictures. I tried to align the pieces as best I could be hoping for a miracle, that all four pins would just fall into place.
It didn’t happen.
I prayed. I begged. No joy.
I knew I could send it in for repair, but one thing crossing the Atlantic has done for me is to make me self-reliant. I don’t need no stink’in warranty center.
This piece goes on top of that piece
It finally occurred to me that I had to go back to basics. I needed to further take apart some pieces and then piece it back together.
That process still took an hour, but when done, my watch was as good as new.
Crossing oceans takes a well designed and built boat, enough fuel and food and most importantly, the confidence to get it done. Nothing else matters. Not the weather nor the seas nor how tired, bored, cold, hot or scared you feel.
On our first summer on Dauntless, in Down east Maine, after having been ensnared on a lobster pot line for over 8 hours, with help still 8 hours away, my partner turned to me and said, “no one is going to help us, we must do it ourselves”
Approaching C & J as the sun sets. Don’t Do This at Home
As soon as my eyes opened due to the light thru my porthole. I got up; it was time to get out of here. My night was not as restful as it should have been. I was eager to get to the next stop which as I had read about on Active Captain, virtually guaranteed me an easy, peaceful, steady night.
I use Active Captain to search the best places for the current weather and sea conditions. In North America, I find it indispensable.
I was so happy to get underway. If you are going to be rolling around, you may as well do it while making miles. I had a long day ahead of me, so I got going, before I made my Vietnamese coffee.
My Vietnamese coffee. The grounds go in the strainer on top of the cup.
Which will be another crisis looming in the distant horizon, the day I run out of Vietnamese coffee. I really like it. I can make it very, very strong, almost like espresso, but it is not bitter. At some point, I may think about importing it into the US.
But I digress.
It’s 06:30, I’m heading WNW to get around the cape’s further north and it’s a grey day. With broken clouds, only a few patches of sky and rain showers from the previous evening’s thunderstorms lingering to the north and west.
I don’t mind the storms. It all depends on the winds. As
I approach C & J. Dropping the anchor now
long as the winds are favorable I’m happy. On those days that I have choice as to leave or not depending on the weather, I pretty much only look at the winds. On a boat, the winds, speed and direction, are what makes a difference. The boat is made to get wet, I don’t worry about rain.
Today the winds are light and while it’s a long day, it wasn’t bad at all. As I arrive at my planned anchoring location, I am a bit perplexed because it doesn’t look like what I’d pictured from the charts.
Or I should say chart. In one of the more bizarre aspects of my mind, I’ll make a plan and then when it comes time to execute, forget the main reason I made the plan in the first place. I can only chuckle.
In this case, for the last 4 years, I make it a rule to always have two electronic charts available. The primary is on the boat’s computer and runs with Coastal Explorer, my navigation program. I’m running C-Map (ex-Jeppesen) charts mainly because they are the most cost effective for world-wide coverage.
This is the Navionics Depiction that i DID NOT have available. Dumb ME. Notice it marks more rocks and the power line better
My secondary is Navionics running on my tablet. Also, extremely cost effective for tablets.
Except I left my tablet, who was dying from battery failure in Viet man, planning on getting a cheap tablet while in NYC. But then I decided while in NYC to save a few pennies, since I’m only spending thousands of dollars a month on Dauntless.
I forgot about my Navionics charts.
Until now. At some point, I will do a review of the two charts, C-Map versus Navionics, but now, I just missed the other’s perspective.
Just then with the sun setting, a small open boat comes by and I decide to overcome my shyness and ask in my crappy Spanish for his recommendation for a good anchoring spot.
I do and he does. I follow him about a quarter of a mile and he puts me on the spot.
In 26 feet of water I put out the anchor and snubber (I always use a snubber bridle, that takes the chain load off the bow pulpit and puts it to the bow hawse pipes and cleats).
This spot was ideal. Even with the slight current, the boat felt like it was on land. It would slide around 90° every 6 hours, but the movement was not even noticeable.
I stayed here two nights. In the 12 overnight hours, the boat moved 0.01 nm; the previous night, the boat moved (while on anchor) 1.7 nm!
I slept 10 hours straight and spent the next day doing more cleaning, organizing and minor stuff.
Day 3 Summary: Engine Start 06:20, stop 18:07; uw 11:39, 78.1 nm, avg speed 6.7 kt. Average Roll while underway, +7° to -9°, delta of 16°; extreme rolls delta 20° (not bad, half of what it was crossing the Atlantic)
Anchored off Isla Cedros & Jesusita in 26 feet water with 120’ of chain out.
Tuesday, 18 July. After waking up so many times I stopped counting, I was glad to see the dawn so I could get out of this spot. Now I’ll tell you why:
I had gone to bed by 20:00 hours, having spent more than an hour futzing with anchors and snubbers.
Dauntless was as disheveled as ever. I had to clear a line thru containers and chairs that had moved around the salon. The stern deck was a mess also.
Coming into my first anchorage
When I first put out the bow anchor, it was obvious the Krogen would not lie into the wind, but perpendicular to it. Probably caused by currents in the bay, but it made the rolling even worse than it had been the previous 12 hours. But the next anchorage was 35 miles away, another 7 hours. I could not go on, I had to make this work.
First, I tried attaching the snubber like to the midships cleat instead of the bow as is normal. I also put out another 50 feet of chain after the snubber. My idea was to put some pressure on the side of the boat to try to hold it into the waves better. (This may have worked better had I connected it to the stern).
An hour later, I realized this was not working. I started the engine briefly to get us into the waves, then threw out the stern anchor on short scope, hoping this would hold us in the right direction.
For about 15 minutes it seems to significantly reduce the roll. I had made a pot of beans, corn and hot dog.
My dinner
That was my no so healthy dinner, but as I told Trinh, I hadn’t passed any gardens today. Besides humans can live a long time on a single food. It wouldn’t kill me to not have balanced meal for a while.
I tried to go to sleep, but the boat had this terrible movement. There was a rolling oscillation that would get worse after about 4 rolls, then die off for about 30 seconds before doing it again. No way could I get to sleep with that. I got up numerous times to see if we had moved. We had moved but the bow anchor was doing fine.
I decided to move the snubber back to the bow. That helped the motion a bit.
Then an hour later, hearing a big bang, I jumped up to make sure we hadn’t crashed into the small fishing boats about 500 feet away. No, we hadn’t. But I then proceeded to pull in the stern anchor as I thought it must be contributing or causing the unnatural corkscrew rolling of the boat.
It seemed to work. Now we were just held by the bow anchor. Still rolling around and swinging on the arc from the anchor, I decided to brace myself in bed and just not worry. I’ve possibly only dragged once with this anchor, so go to sleep.
That I did by about 01:00. As the dawn broke a little after 5, I was up. I decided not to deal with the mess in the salon until my next stop. But within minutes I found myself moving containers, chairs, getting the restraining straps and bungee cords and making everything snug. A sweaty 20 minutes later, it was all done and I felt so much better.
Looking at the actual winds, they were easterly at 4 knots, so decided to press on and get out of this hell hole. Clearly, I’ve been in worse anchorages, the ones you must leave sooner rather than later. But this one was pretty bad.
Got underway, 342° at 35 miles. Should be there in 6 hours. No need for paravanes, as the wind is out of the east (direction of the coast, about 6 miles away) the seas are relatively flat, with just the SW swell at about 2 feet and 10 second period.
And the second day ended as well as it started. Oh, we had more anchoring follies, but isn’t that why we pay the price of admission?
Day 2 Summary: Engine Start 06:08, stop 12:00; uw 5:52, 34.3 nm, avg speed 6.6 kt.
Southern Costa Rica is like Vietnam, hot, 30° and humid. Maybe more humid. But that thought prompted me to check the latest obs from VVTS, Tansonnhat Int’l. Nope, their morning dew point is 77°, while it was only 72° this morning in Golfito.
My chart of the anchorage. The marks are where where my anchor is and the mooring ball
In any case, after the stress of leaving the marina for the first time in almost 4 months, it’s time to check and double check.
While still in the Caribbean, I had tried to use the generator. It ran for a minute a then shut itself off. So, we had spent a miserable night before arriving at the marina in Colon, Panama.
I’ve planned on anchoring a lot over the next three months, so a working generator was no longer an option but a necessity.
Last week I tackled the problem, having been guided what to look for from a mechanic friend on the East Coast.
In minutes, I found the suspected problem, a bad connection to the exhaust temperature sensor, and set it right. The generator than started and ran for 30 minutes, with load, no problem.
Saying goodbye to Fish Hook Marina
I was leaving in mid-afternoon, as much to save another $40, but also to get my sea sense back. We were only going a few miles to anchor, so after a hot day, in the heat of the afternoon, the generator would be called upon almost immediately.
Not being born yesterday, just before leaving the dock, I started the gen for just a few minutes, just to make sure, maybe 5 minutes.
15:00, finally ready to leave.
But Sergio, who was going to be with me for some days, then told me he had to go home.
OK
Maybe a language issue? Certainly not the first time for me.
Then the guy on the marina is throwing off the dock lines. OK. I’m sort of ready.
But what about the two pangas fishing 20 feet in front of Dauntless? No problem, they were told to get out of the way. Slowly evidently.
Once the lines are off, I need to get underway. My bow wave must have nudged them the last few feet,
Now, out of the slip and safely past the pangas, I look to my chart to check my route in and the depths.
But the chart isn’t on. Why?
Computer’s on, Coastal Explorer is running, but the magic “M” key is not bringing up the C-Map.
This kind of crap happens when rushed by other people’s schedules or perceived schedule.
I had put Dauntless in neutral not wanting to go in water I had no idea what was the depths.
Finally, I see the keyboard was turned off. Easily solved, my chart comes up and confirms that my route into the marina was good and the one to follow out
I poke along at 5 knots in no real hurry. Just happy to have the sea under my feet again.
The spot I was anchoring in is a quarter mile off the beach in front of a friend’s house I meet on the bus to Golfito. It’s a steep slope with a big 15’ tidal range. I can’t get too close, even though I have 35’ below me now.
I drop the anchor, it catches quickly like it always does (a much beloved Delta). It’s hot, very hot and humid. I’m dying. I put out 110 of chain on top of the anchor. Then I realize the mistake I made. With the steep slope, large tidal range and 100+ feet of chain out, when Dauntless swings around (we’re now facing the beach) her behind may end up high and dry. Not the first time, but I’m trying to have a year without a grounding.
I decide to throw the stern anchor in. Oh, no stern anchor. Must have been stowed for the Atlantic passage. Just then I see a mooring ball, just within reach of my short boat hook (they charge more for longer ones!)
I quickly grab the line from the mooring ball and put a short line thru it.
Worked like a charm. Dauntless soon went parallel to the beach, but that was fine.
Now I’m sweaty, almost dead for the heat, stress and whatever else.
I turn on generator to get a much-anticipated relief.
It runs for one minute then clearly can’t handle a load. It putters to a stop.
I feel like crying.
I start it again, it starts, but with no power, like before. What changed? I asked myself. Only I put the cover back on. Could it not be getting enough air?
I take the front cover off, it continues to run poorly, then stumbles, then starts running normally.
I power up all the accessories, A/C’s, Inverter Charger.
For the next few hours, with the passing of every bird and fish, I think the gen is dying, but no, it runs steadily, until I turn it off for bed.
Now, the next test, how hot will the boat become without the A/C. The water temperature is 92°. I’ve never been in such hot water; the engine room never gets below 100° and that’s only with the Inverter and Water heater working there.
Dauntless hardly moved.
Just when I was finishing my shower, a peal of thunder overhead made me think that we’d run hard aground. I flew out of the shower.
It was only Mother Nature having a little chuckle before I went to sleep.
Having some time on my hands for another couple of weeks, I thought I would share with everyone what the Cruising Costs have been for Dauntless, a 42 foot Kadey Krogen Motor yacht over the last two years.
I’ve broken out the numbers, so for instance, if you only go to a marina 10% of the time, you can adjust the numbers accordingly.
If you have any specific questions, I will be glad to answer them, but please email me vice PM.
May Thru October 2016 My approximate route. Most of the little black dots are stops
The number don’t add up to 100% because there are some personal travel expenses, which I track but are not pertinent to the story.
Also, the significant difference is that in 2016 I was able to buy 900 gallons of fuel in Ireland for very reasonable prices (far less than UK “red” diesel).
In 2015 because Dauntless range under such conditions, I had to refuel with very expensive fuel in Finland, Sweden and Norway, arriving back in Ireland with almost empty tanks.
Marina costs were significantly higher in 2016 because Portugal, southern Spain, Atlantic France are significantly more expensive than many Baltic and North Sea marinas.
2015 Baltic and North Sea Cruise
Food costs are pretty much for a couple.
In the next weeks, I will update the latter half of 2016, the trip from Rota Spain to Gibraltar, Morocco, the Canaries and Martinique.
2017 update will be from Martinique to Panama Canal, Costa Rica and up to Mexico for the winter.
From Power & Motoryacht. No, I did not crash into Brazil, but I still like it anyway.
Just today I remembered that I have never seen the piece that was written about Dauntless and I and our travels in the May issue of Power & Motoryacht.
Nicely done. Sometimes it’s nice to see what other people write. In some ways, it is even more insightful.
There are a few typos or possibly I did not explain well enough. Near the end when I talk about fuel getting into the fuel tank via the fuel vent, it’s not the “bilge” as written. One of the sharp readers commented on that, but I don’t do Facebook, so I could not thank her.
Also, Kodiak in July 2018. Ha, I’ll be lucky to get to San Diego by then. Since I did this interview for the article just after I arrived in Martinique in January, I am surprised I still thought I could get to Kodiak so quickly. Ok well.
I’m having a wonderful time in Vietnam. The longer I am here, the more comfortable I’ve become. Having a motorbike and not having killed myself yet, is a bigger accomplishment than crossing the Atlantic, twice.
But I am missing D so much too. I want to be back on the water. I promise to never complain how hot it is anymore. Even if my eyeballs are baking, I’ll repeat the desert southwest mantra, It’s a dry heat.
So, when I get back in early July, with my new Coast Guard Document clutched in my sweaty little hand, it will be all hands-on deck to get moving north.
All two, hands that is.
Having Micah on board for so many months, clearly spoiled me. I don’t even remember that person who crossed a third of the Atlantic alone. I haven’t been alone since the Stockholm to Waterford run of September 2015. That was eons ago.
The table below is my tentative cruising program. So, for example, it shows I’ll spend about three weeks in Costa Rica, with the last stop around Santa Elena before heading to Mexico.
I’ve made the difficult decision to bypass Nicaragua, Guatemala and Honduras. El Salvador ends up being a casualty, in that it’s too hard to stop there and avoid the other places. Some of my friends say I’m being ridiculous and too much of a gringo frady cat, but, I am a gringo frady cat.
I know and understand the ocean; people are harder.
I use sites like No onsite and Active Captain, to point out problem areas and then I avoid them. No matter how beautiful a place is, it’s simply not worth it for me, if I have to worry about the safety of my friends & crew, me for the boat.
Here is what the trip looks like so far. The stops listed are the primary overnight or multiple day stops, with there being no overnights except for those with the “P” in the second column. Other than the initial Santa Elena to Mexico, all the others are open to stopping:
Summer 2017
Because of my delay in getting back, I am a bit more pressed for time than I would have liked, but it’s still a third less than I’ve done in the past.
I have friends joining me from mid-August until the end of September (I think J).
My July people are not answering my calls. Ummm, I think I need to find replacements.
It made me envious; I know, that’s ridiculous, but still.
Dauntless has come so far
Dauntless spent two and a half years in Northern Europe because I knew we would like it. The weather, the people, the cultures all, the food, fit my number one criteria of staying off the beaten track and living well as I did so.
I Loved the Baltic, Sweden, Norway, Scotland & Ireland
That was expected. All the lands of coastal Northern Europe have a real seafaring culture. Every boat waves at you, especially fisherman. From Galicia in northwest Spain to the far eastern Baltic, it was a wonderful experience with minimal bureaucracy.
In those 2+ years, 20+ countries, 100+ stops, mostly in towns and cities, I probably spent less than 120 minutes on the formalities of checking in (Passports, boats documents, crew lists) and checking out.
No wait, there was no checking out.
The peoples, the lands, met and greatly exceeded my expectations.
Then, we headed south. 90% of all boats are south, mostly in the Mediterranean, you know, Italy, Greece, Turkey and southern France and Spain. Everyone wants to go there, so that’s a big Do Not Enter sign for me.
So, we headed south with low expectations. Little did I realize they were not low enough.
Prices trebled, temperatures doubled and bureaucracy was like a pig is slop. The first two stops in Portugal took the same amount of time as the last 100 stops of the previous two years.
And then it got worse.
In virtually every stop, 5 to 10 pieces of paper to sign to check-in; make sure you return tomorrow to fill out and sign the same papers to check-out. Don’t even mention the expense.
But you have read all of this before. Turns out Martinique was the high point of the entire Caribbean. It’s almost weird to say that they were the least bureaucratic. In fact, they were just like northern France. But that was certainly the exception.
So now, having endured all of that and more to get Dauntless a quarter of the way back around the world, I sit here with envy of Dirona.
But I realize it’s not Dirona I’m envious of, it’s being in the middle of the ocean.
I’m a traveler, so when I’m not, I’ll always be envious of those who are.
But now that transiting the Panama Canal, a set structure in time and space, has been done, I have time to take a breath.
I want to enjoy the Pacific Northwest, British Columbia and Southeast Alaska. These areas provide the spectacular scenery of Norway with wildlife that has been long gone from Europe.
The western coasts of Central and North America pose a formidable challenge for little boats: long stretches of coastlines with inaccessible harbors when you most need them and predominantly head winds and seas.
If I’ve learned anything in the last few years, this Krogen does not like head seas. They make for a miserable ride that takes twice the time and fuel.
Dauntless Rests In Fish Hook Marina, Golfito
So, the first step is understanding that with any northerly component to the winds, one must stay put.
We are also constrained by a relatively short cruising period, 5 months, maybe 6 at best. That’s 150 to 180 days. Climo says that the winds are northerly 66 to 75% of the time. That means of those 150 days, maybe only 45 are useable.
In those 45 days, I can reasonably assume that gets me about 2100 nm or someplace in Northern Mexico from Golfito.
The following summer, 2018, I’d have 2400 nm or about 49 days to get to the Pacific Northwest.
Lastly, in the third year, 2019, that time will be spent in British Columbia and Southeast Alaska.
So, I now have a more realistic time table.
Three seasons of cruising, also means three seasons of idleness. And we all know that idle hands are the devil’s workshop. So, while Dauntless is safely tucked in, I must keep busy at an affordable pace.
The west coast is considerably more expensive than Northern Europe, thus I find myself having to be open to new money saving strategies for the winter in particular.
Since re-crossing the Atlantic, I have been slow in updating my digital log. Maybe because the data simply does not change very much:
In 2016-17, Dauntless fuel consumption remains constant at 1.45 gallons per hour or just above 4 nm/gallons. This number is only 1/10th of a gallon different from 2015.
My costs, total expenses for Dauntless and for myself have averaged just less than $100 per day for everything. This is also slightly less than 2015. While marinas in southern Europe were much more expensive than northern Europe, the large number of passage and anchoring days equalized that cost. Also, a passage day, 24 hours x 1.5 gallons = 35 gallons per day at $2.5 = $90/day. So, using fuel for 24 hours pretty much equals the cost of a marina and eating and drinking.
The long-range plan, a circumnavigation in a 30-year Kadey Krogen, is still the plan. I’m already thinking of where I am crossing my track and what comes after that. Northern Europe, Sweden and the Baltic still have an attraction that is hard to beat, but who knows.
I’m always thinking of the future; reflecting on the past. While that doesn’t leave much time to appreciate the here and now, it’s who I am. I get far more enjoyment having the Plan come together, then just winging it. I can read a hundred self-help books about living in the moment. What they all have in common, is that they are written by people who are adept at living in the moment and figured out how to monetize that.
So, this finds me taking a break from D right now. We’ve been together almost 24/7 since November. My nephew Micah went home to enter Law School, so I decided to take a little break and do a little reconnoiter for this coming winter.
We knew it would end badly; we only hoped they would have mercy on us.
Dutch Caribbean Coast Guard Helicopter
We did our best to stay out of trouble, but when your time is up, it’s up.
Now, as we rewind the events of the last few days, it’s clear we never had a chance.
It all started innocently enough. The uneventful three-day passage from St. Vincent to Bonaire was just that uneventful. But now, it’s obvious, those strange lights we encountered was just the tip of the iceberg.
We spent an uneventful few days on Bonaire. It truly is a diver’s and snorkeling paradise, at least for anyone who has not been to Hawaii. Certainly, the most fish I have seen since… Hawaii, but that was 30 years ago,
The plan was Bonaire, then Curacao and finally Aruba, the three so-called ABC’s.
20 miles e
Dutch Caribbean Coast Guard plane
ast southeast of Curacao, there is a small island, called Kleene Curacao. It’s almost on the way, so after a long day, we figured to anchor off the windward shore. This is the island with the wreck and the old, abandoned lighthouse.
After walking around the island
, climbing the lighthouse, making photos of the wreck, upon returning to Dauntless, I heard a low droning noise that can only come from a low flying turbo prop
DCCG RIB Pulling up
aircraft. It was a Dutch Caribbean Coast Guard (DCCG) plane making a low (200 ft.) pass, parallel to the beach banked over to get a close look at our little Kadey Krogen.
That was interesting. This was not our little boat’s first encounter with aircraft checking us out. The Canadians off Nova Scotia, the French off the Brest Peninsula, did the same. Seeing we were clearly not a fishing boat, we never saw them again.
But this time was different.
DCCG RIB Stalking DauntlessDCCG Making the transfer
Next morning, we get underway to do the last 20 miles to Curacao. This time, a DCCG helicopter circles our boat three times. A couple hours later running parallel to the coast, just a couple miles off, the same helicopter returns and circles us again for 5 minutes.
So, it was no surprise when an hour later, we get a call on the VHF from DCCG asking us our destination.
OK, that’s simple, it’s Oranjestad, we’ll anchor just off the airport’s runway.
No, that won’t do, we are being asked to stop at customs in Bacadera, 4 miles south of Oranjestad.
No problem, that’s on the way. I tell them we’ll be there in about an hour.
Then 20 minutes later, I’m hailed again, this time by the DCCG RIB that’s right off our stern quarter.
Initially, they seemed to want to follow me to Bacadera. OK, but then finally they asked the question that it seems everyone has been dying to ask for the last few days, what am I streaming off the paravane poles?
I told them it’s a bird to stabilize the boat and reduce rolling.
Maretron Rolling Data showing the effectiveness of the Paravane Stabilizers
Could I please retrieve them so that they may board our boat?
Of course, let’s end this drama!
They watched alertly as Micah and I went through our now well practiced, 4-minute routine: Dauntless in idle, then neutral, as boat slows I go to fly bridge, while Micah goes to side deck. After 2 minutes, boat is slowed enough for me to start retrieving poles. Then it’s just a matter of pulling birds out of water.
Once that is done, they ask me to go “Dead Slow”, and as Dauntless wallows around like stricken whale, they come alongside and three guys come on to Dauntless’ side deck.
They are really professional and even nice. They obviously are thinking we are fishing. They do a quick look around, take a picture of our passports and satisfied that we are not and have never been fishing, they prepare to leave. This time though, they let me go the steadier speed of 5 knots, which makes it easier for the RIB to pull alongside and for them to return.
They add that we do not have to stop at Customs at Bacadera, but can proceed to Oranjestad, anchor for the night and check-in the following day.
Which we did.
At which point the customs asked us why we did not check-in the night before?
I stated simply that I did as I was directed. That ended that discussion.
All in all, it was a good experience. The only frustrating part was not so much about the fishing that wasn’t but just the paperwork to check-in and then a day or two later, the same paperwork to check-out. For long term cruisers, not an issue, but for someone like me, who wants to see many places in a short time, they make it very time consuming and ultimately, I will not come back.
In fact, only a week later, closing in on Cartagena, I realized that check-in normally takes few days, check out two days and we only wanted to make a two-night stop.
Dauntless at Sea 