We set out of Spanish Water on my sailboat Solitude on a Saturday 23. January around 3 o'clock in the afternoon with provision for a couple of months. Hugging the shore of Curaçao to avoid the currents heading west to get to East Point of the dry island and then into the Caribbean Sea. The weather forecast had told us it would be easterly winds around 20 knots (10 m/sec) but as always it was a bit more than that and once again I was thinking to be a weatherman, so I could sit around all day and guess what the weather would be like.
When we rounded the corner of Curaçao to head north east, we set sails and turned off the engine. In the distance to starboard I could see the lighthouse on Klein Curaçao and got goose bumps but at the same time sending good thoughts back to Denmark and my mom.
The wind picked up to around 30 knots (15 m/sec), the waves were around 2 meters and Flemming and Kenneth were not saying much any more. We ate pasta bolognese that Flemming had prepared in Spanish Water, the sun sank into the horizon and the waves were washing over Solitude. We all got into our foul weather gear and Kenneth got more and more sick without being able to go below. We had 2 hours watch but I stayed in the cockpit all the time since in was the first time Flemming and Kenneth had been sailing. The night was long and wet but not really cold and I got to sleep a few hours during the night. In the high winds with a double reef in the main sail and a Yankee sail (a small genoa) we were still flying through the Caribbean Sea with around 8 knots. The sun came up and Flemming set out the two fishing poles, I made some sandwiches for breakfast, Flemming and Kenneth were still unable to go below without getting seasick. The day went by with one highlight. All of a sudden the fishing pole on port side was screeching. Flemming grabbed the fishing pole trying to stop the line going out very fast. The wheel got hot and Flemming was struggling to keep the fish on the hook. The disappointment was difficult to hide when the line snapped and the fish took off, now with a new piercing.
Noon came with one sleeping, one fighting seasickness and me making lunch. Before the sunset I fixed dinner and the waves were still washing over Solitude who was still going very fast.
The night, the second one on the trip, was cloudless and a trillion stars was above us. Kenneth was still a bit sick but able to keep watch every once in a while. Nothing was to be seen but the stars and waves and the sun slowly coming up to make a beautiful sunrise.
The wind had come down from 30 knots (15 m/sec) to 20 knots (10m/sec) which felt like a light breeze and the waves were not pounding over the hull of Solitude. A clear blue sky was to be seen with the sun trying to burn through the sunblocker factor 30, we had on our salty bodies. It was such a pleasant day and we were just cruising along in the middle of the Caribbean Sea. Suddenly I spotted a yellow thing about 300 metres from us. Through the binoculars we couldn't see if it was a life-raft or a buoy so we rolled in the front sail, started the engine and slowly approached the floating object. Our hearts were pounding what the hell was this?
50 metres from it we saw it was a buoy and not a life-raft but what was a buoy doing in the middle of the sea where it was 5000 metres deep......? Could it be drugs related, a weather station or some sort of marker buoy? We never figured it out but was glad it wasn't a life-raft.
We pulled the front sail out again, turned off the engine and continued our sail to the north east. All of a sudden one of the blocks hold the line for the front sail, snapped so again we had to roll the now flabbing sail in. With a bit of this and a bit of that, we manage to fix the broken block and could continue.
The night came again but now with more clouds and the wind picked up again to 30 knots (15m/sec) and again we were going between seven and eight knots.
Nothing happened during the night but a lot of thinking, looking and coffee drinking. No ships were seen anyway.
Kenneth and I were up during the morning with Flemming sleep below and we were going even faster than before. Solitude going between eight and ten knots with a top ground speed of 14,7 knots on the GPS, Kenneth and I was laughing. For three hours we were going this fast, sometimes with big waves washing over the deck. However, our dreams of coming into St. Marteen or The British Virgin Islands were like the dream of wining the lottery, we were pushed up to the west coast of Puerto Rico.
We were still flying when the first fierce weather system hit us with hard rain. All of us were laughing about it because we had never seen so much rain coming from the sky before. When it hit you face it hurt and you could barely see 50 metres ahead.
All day these squalls would hit us, the laughing stopped a bit after number five, we were soaking wet and everything around us was too.
The third night came upon us, the rain had stopped now but we were still wet to the bone and Puerto Rico was coming closer and closer. I had hoped for the wind to turn more east but it stayed north east. In the mouth of the Mona Passage between Dominican Republic east coast and Puerto Ricos west coast we tacked, turning Solitude the other way into the wind. It was a weird feeling, after 3,5 days with our floating home heeled to port side, Solitude was now heeling to starboard. Now we had to take a piss over the railing in the other corner.
We sailed like this until it got light only to gain 12 nm. Solitude is not doing very good into the wind. Finally we had land in front of our eyes, the wind had dropped to nothing and the sun was rising in the east. With flapping sails we decided to start the engine and motor-sail up closer to the south coast of Puerto Rico. With just the main sail up, the engine running and no waves at all, we were following the coast, lying on the deck of Solitude. We had made the crossing with no major problems but two sick crew members and a captain who hadn't slept much but the spirits were high.
Late afternoon the waves picked up again and so did the wind, we were now pounding against one and a half meter waves and decided to go into Puerto Rico. In 1899, America the land of the free, kicked out the Spanish from Puerto Rico and took over the island so today it is part of the United States and Homeland Security protect the borders just like if it was America. With this result we had to have a visa to enter the country. I tried to call Customs and Border Patrol for two hours, getting hold of the US Coast Guard on the VHF and getting them to contact Customs and Border Patrol, since our phones did not work. They promised to call back on the VHF but nothing happened. At the end of the afternoon another sailboat called and told us to anchor in Guanica, a small commercial bay for the night and then in the morning sail over to Ponce to clear in. We thought about biting the bullet and head for The British Virgin Islands but we were beat and needed to get a break from the pounding waves. With out getting hold of Customs and Border Patrol we sailed into the bay of Guanica, a spot I had been before three years ago when I came down from the Bahamas.
The anchor was put down and Flemming cooked the Dorado he had caught two days ago. A few beers went down but we were all very tired and went to sleep early.
Next morning breakfast was made, the anchor was taken up and we sailed to Ponce, still pounding against the wind and waves but Flemming caught a Jack fish, now we had fresh meat again.
In Ponce, another spot I had been three years ago, we docked in a marina after two officers from Customs and Border Patrol had given us the sign and for a minute I thought everything was going to all right, I had no idea I was entering the entrance to hell.
Once the lines were on the dock I walked up to an office to phone Customs and Border Patrol and since we didn't have a visa, the officer in the other end of the phone line yelled and screamed like I had just killed a small village, burned their houses and was now dancing the polka to celebrate. He kept asking stupid questions about why we had come, why we didn't have a visa and if I had any idea what I had done. In the end of this one way flow of questions, yells and screams, he told me not to move, an officer would come down immediately to pick me up. I hung up and walked back to Solitude, fuck him, but I had the same helpless feeling I had had once in The British Virgin Islands where I was charged with human trafficking and failing to come to a Port of Entry.
Back on Solitude two female officers had come all ready and was talking to Kenneth and Flemming while at the same time on the cellular phone with her boss. At first she said, we had to pay 524 dollars each for a visa for one day and my thoughts and mind were about to accept this ridicules amount of money. The fine for not having a visa is normally 5000 dollars per person, so 524 dollars sounded ok. My mind was trying to figure out a way to pay less though and came up with something. I looked the officer straight in the eye and told her, my crew had been seasick for the past 48 hours, I had not slept for that period so this stop was maritime safety. Still on the phone with her boss she explained it in Spanish and that sentence, maritime safety, hit the spot. Now we had to pay 65 dollars each for a visa but the boss in the other end of the phone wanted to get the crew to a hospital. The boss in the other end of the phone was still struggling like a fish on a hook but he knew he could do nothing against maritime safety.
Another officer from Customs and Border Patrol, trained not to smile, came to inspect Solitude for "stove aways", illegal immigrants hiding in the boat, and drugs but found, off cause, nothing. They took the boat papers and passports and told me, and only me, to come to the office the next morning at 8 o'clock.
We anchored in the bay because the marina wanted 90 dollars for the night. Flemming cooked the delicious Jack fish and we went to bed early again.
At 6.30 am I put the dinghy in the water, put the outboard on and hooked up the gas tank up. Packed my backpack with a handheld VHF, some money and my drivers license for identification and dinghyed into the end of the bay. Found a police station who called for a taxi and went into 63 Bonaire Street. I knew where it was, because three years ago we also had some trouble with visas.
I entered the pink customs building and wrote my name on a paper. Immediately the female officer from yesterday came out. I had to fill out customs papers when she looked around and asked for my crew. She looked towards the ceiling when I told her they were still on the boat. Yesterday she had told, she claimed, that all of us had to come this morning.
She was being very nice and told me I had to go back to get them but we could use the dinghy to safe money for another taxi and we went outside so she could point out a small dock, to put the dinghy.
With two Americans I drove back towards my dinghy in their taxi. They were talking a lot but I wasn't really paying attention.
When I got back to Solitude Kenneth and Flemming had cleaned the boat. We all jumped into the dinghy and went over to the pink building, house of the paranoid Customs and Border Patrol.
After one hour of waiting a very friendly officer, came out and asked if we had had breakfast yet. The friendliness and the question worried me, this could be a sign that we were going to spent a long time here in Puerto Rico but not as in the rest of America, land of the free, but behind bars. I went outside with him, jumped into his oversized SUV and drove about 30 seconds down the street to a small restaurant. The officer was still being a bit too friendly but talked about his time in the army in Germany and his time in the US Coast Guard where he was seasick for 6 months. He also liked baseball and boxing which is typically in Puerto Rico. I thanked him for taking me to get food and we drove the 30 seconds back to the pink building, hosting the paranoid people and Flemming and Kenneth who were happy with some breakfast.
For the next 5 hours we were in and out of a room with a very tight officer who kept asking questions about me, the boat, the none existing visas, where we had sailed from and many other stupid things. All in all, I think he knew he could do nothing about me claiming maritime safety. I was sat in a chair while all the questions were pounding on me, with a view to a small prison cell. I think those bastards did it on purpose, trying to get you scared and getting you to confess.
I had my fingerprints taken twice plus a photo was taken and the same happened to Kenneth and Flemming. They came out with papers I had to sign but after reading through them I had them change some things. Another 30 minutes passed, the now changed papers came out to be signed again but something wasn't right according to the officer and they disappeared again. After the fifth time it was turning into a joke. This high tech, protecting, tight and paranoid machine called, US Customs and Border Patrol was not to be taken very serious anymore. They kept fucking up the papers and we were getting more and more frustrated. Finally the money, 214 dollars for three persons and a boat, changed hands but now the problem was, we had to pay each one of us to get a receipt. I had to tell, Mr. very tight officer who couldn't figure it out him self, to take all of the money and just make three receipts. He disappeared through the door with the secret pin code, 1344, again, and came back 10 minutes later. The genius of an officer had pulled it off, he had made three receipts. The papers and passports were turned back to me, the officer now with his index finger right in front of his nose pointing towards the ceiling, told us, we had 'till tomorrow to get out of US waters and if the weather was not good for sailing, I had to contact him as soon as possible. If i failed to do so and we were still at anchor tomorrow, he would bring me in. The only thing I said was, yes, ok and thank you. It was a good thing he couldn't read my mind...
The female officer had helped us a lot and we thanked her with our hearts. She had tried to put herself in our position but from above, the bosses wanted it different.
Back on Solitude we ate dinner and decided to leave right away and get the hell out of Puerto Rico or was it "land of the free", USA? , we didn't like to be here anyway, it was too scary having paranoid officers on your tale.
Pounding into the wind and waves with water coming through the mast, hatches, various holes and places I had no idea water would ever get through, we slowly made progress towards the east along the southern shore of Puerto Rico. It seemed like we were going absolutely nowhere fast, every time the boat hit a 2 meter wave, we were standing still. Puerto Rico wouldn't let us go so easy.
Every two hours I emptied around 50 litres of water from the bilge threw the electric pump and everything on the inside of Solitude was soaking wet, it was a shit sailing trip.
Finally Puerto Rico was sliding away behind us and we had to pass just one more island, Isla de Vieques, also part of Puerto Rico. That island seemed endless, it took hours and hours to get pass it. The sun got sucked into the horizon, a funny thing when you are no a sailboat, rocking up and down. The sun disappear like we know it on land, then you get on top of a wave and there is a bit still left... yeah, I know it is kinda stupid but you have to appreciate the small things when you have just been to hell and back. Anyway, I made dinner and we turned more to the north east, towards St. Thomas.
During the night we sailed north of St. Thomas and into The British Virgin Islands and wanted to go to Sobers Hole. Once we had found the entrance, which was very hard in the dark through the small islands, we arrived to a fully booked bay. A types of vessels had taken the moorings and I could not find a place to put down the anchor. Disappointed I decided to push on and go to Roadtown. Last time I was in this neighbourhood I learned, it was a very good idea to go straight to a Port of Entry.
The plan, which can change on a daily basis is, to pick up my friend Mark at the airport, visit friends in Virgin Gorda, another island in The British Virgin Islands and then sail towards The Lesser Antilles.
The sun is setting and the crew still on their spots. Caribbean Sea, January 2010
The fishing poles where out all day but we only caught something when the sun where low on the horizon. Caribbean Sea, January 2010
Flemming checking the fishing gear in high speed. Caribbean Sea, January 2010
The first catch was a dorado. Caribbean Sea, January 2010
Proud man with his catch. Caribbean Sea, January 2010
Flemming cutting the fish into food. Caribbean Sea, January 2010
Eventhough I would never order fish in a restaurant and hardly ever eat fish, this tasted really good, thanks to Flemming. Caribbean Sea, January 2010
The meat was in the fridge and the fish was tossed over board. Caribbean Sea, January 2010
At first it was funny with all the rain coming down on the third day but after 5 hours we missed sunshine and not being soaked. Caribbean Sea, January 2010
The mood was good eventhough it rained all day. Caribbean Sea, January 2010
Flemming longing for land, it had been a rough crossing. Caribbean Sea, January 2010
Flemming and Kenneth doing a handshake, we were almost there. Caribbean Sea, January 2010
The minister of fishing, Flemming, with another Dorado catch. Caribbean Sea, January 2010
We all ready had fish meat in the fridge and threw this one back into the sea. Caribbean Sea, January 2010
The captain in foul weather gear and a lamp on my forehead. On day two the light in the galley went out caused by seawater in the electric system. Caribbean Sea, January 2010
After three and a half day out of Curaçao, we ended up on the western coast of Puerto Rico and the water was pleasently flat for a couple of hours. So flat that Flemming finally could read a book. Caribbean Sea, January 2010
A barracuda catch we threw back out into the sea. Caribbean Sea, January 2010
Kenneth chilling out with an apple in his mouth and Flemming getting another fish on the hook. Caribbean Sea, January 2010
Flemming fighting to get the fish into the boat. Caribbean Sea, January 2010
Getting ready for cutting the fish into steaks. Caribbean Sea, January 2010
