Scrub a Dub Dub

The importance of a clean bottom cannot be denied...especially when it comes to a boat.

Racing sailors know this all too well, and cruising sailors usually learn it the hard way; like when they're slogging along the Northern coast of the Dominican Republic pounding into head seas going 2.5 knots after spending ten days in the cesspool that is Luperon wondering "Why are we so damn slow?!?" Well, I'll tell you why you're slow.  You've got a virtual aquarium living on the bottom of your boat.  Barnacles, algae, sea grass and mollusks will all be found living and clinging for dear life to your underhull and believe me, it will slow you down.  A lot.

Sailboats aren't known for being the zippiest form of transportation around in the first place, so when you lose a knot or two of boat speed - it makes a big difference.  Therefore, bottom cleaning should be a part of every cruising sailor's routinely scheduled maintenance.  Tropical waters are famous for breeding sea life aplenty and if you don't move regularly (like sitting at anchor for a week or more), the speed at which life will grow will be much faster.  Usually, Scott and I would dive our boat every couple of weeks in a nice anchorage somewhere with some scotch brite pads and give our boat a scrub.  However, here in the harbor - it would take a pretty lucrative ($$$) dare to get either of us to get in the water and do this (we've seen everything from hypodermic needles to dead rats float by our boat).

Enter our buddy Martin!!

Not only does he not mind getting in the water, but he's got a scuba set up which means he can do a much more thorough job, much faster than we could.  For a $100 even - we get a pristinely scrubbed bottom (we've checked his work before and he does a great job) and the peace of mind that we have potentially managed to escape nasty case of giardiasis.  Sometimes, money spent is well worth it and in this case, we're happy to hand over a Ben Franklin, thankyouverymuch.

We should enjoy a nice, fast ride to Trinidad now.  Here's hoping!!

Love,
Brittany & Scott

There's This Drink...

Sip, sip GIVE my friend!

Scott and I were perusing a little trinket shop in Luperon when the sales lady came up to us and said, "Can I help you?  You need necklace, ring?  We have many beautiful things...we have shells, marijuana..."

Scott and I stopped in our tracks and looked up at the smiling sales clerk, then at each other.  She had this big smile on her face, as if she had no idea she just offered us illegal drugs.  We had heard Luperon was different, but we didn't realize your run of the mill sales girl could openly pimp pot.  That was too weird.

"Excuse me?" Scott said.

"We have shells, mamajuana..." she repeated, still beaming.

Oh!  MAMAjuana.  Not marijuana.  She walked over to a shelf and procured a recycled wine bottle with a bunch of bark in it, soaking in a deep, burgundy colored liquid.

"Dees is mamajuana" she told us as she grabbed a shot glass off the shelf and poured us some, "eets good for love...ees an aphrodisiac.  Pour rum or wine in the bottle and drink".  Scott took the glass, shrugged, took a sip and handed the latter half to me.  We know the drill.

I am telling you - with the number of aphrodisiacs in the islands - lotions, potions, flowers, drinks, roots - it's a wonder why the whole world is not populated by Bahamians and Caribbean Islanders.

The mixture is one of bark, herbs, and honey soaked in rum and red wine.  The drink is thick and the taste is very similar to a port.  Dominicans use mamajuana for everything from colds, to digestion, to...er...love issues.

While we didn't buy any - we enjoyed our little taste.  As for it's aphrodisiac qualities - well, we'll never tell.  You'll just have to get some yourself.  But remember, if you can smoke it - you got the wrong stuff.

Love,
Brittany & Scott

UFO Sighting

I mentioned in a previous post about the beauty and magic of sailing through the night.  Despite the darkness - there is a lot to be seen amidst all that black.  All one needs to do is look up and worlds upon worlds open up...Shooting stars with magnificent tails that slice across the darkness, tiny satellites that move so fast (seventeen thousand miles an hour!) you can actually follow them across the solar system, blinking planes, twinkling constellations...they are all there for your eyes to devour.

Even the water can provide ample entertainment if you watch it closely...unmarked buoys, tires, sea life, bioluminescence, fishing nets, and general flotsam and jetsam are always there...but every now and then you see something you have never seen before...something that you can't quite put your finger on...We call those: UFO's.  That's right, unidentified FLOATING objects (you thought I was going somewhere else with that, didn't you?).

It was around 2am and was down below sleeping when I heard Scott and Al talking about a "mysterious light" in the water.  I heard them rustle through the charts as they tried to identify it, "That is definitely not on the chart" I heard Al say.  "What the heck is that?" Scott continued, "It's, like, glowing...".  And that is when I had to come up and see for myself.

Just as I popped through the companionway hatch Scott made the decision to tack away from it - whatever it was.  And good thing he did.  Because that's when I saw it.  A distinct, huge (bigger than the boat), neon green something floating just under the surface of the water.  It was creepy and it was weird.  The three of us strained our eyes as we ghosted past it trying to catch a glimpse of any telltale feature that would give it away.  There was none.  Finally, I came up with what we think is the only plausible explanation:  a whale sleeping just under the surface, surrounded (thankfully!) by the phosphorescent light of the tiny sea creatures around it.  Whatever it was, we are glad we didn't hit it!

So - moral of the story is this:  while you can look up into the sky and look for unidentified flying objects, don't forget to look down at the water once in a while as well - lest you meet with an unidentified floating object!

Love,

Brittany & Scott

Living the Good Life

I wrote a post earlier about the differences between a traveler and a tourist.  While I realize this post was more pro-traveler than tourist - I should have made a note that there are always exceptions and I was, for literary reasons, making generalizations.  One reader pointed out that there are travelers who are tourists, and tourists who are travelers - and I wholeheartedly agree.  The point that I made that was overlooked was that the main difference was in the mindset.

Anyway...

Here in Samana we have been tourists.  Slushy rum drink sipping, pool side dipping and hotel-restaurant dwelling tourists. And it has been heaven.

Entrance to Puerto Bahia Marina

When your life is one of a traveler, it sure feels good to be a tourist.  In fact, it actually feels like a vacation.  Showers with unlimited hot water, wine with dinner and infinity pools sure can make a girl feel good!  There is nothing wrong with enjoying a little luxury once in a while, though we did take a motorcycle-driven rickshaw back from town.  Judging by the looks we got as we peeled into the development in a loud, rickety, cart - I'm pretty sure we are the only people who have arrived that way...ever.

Thank you Bannister Hotel, Puerto Bahia Marina*, and (especially) Uncle Al for this wonderful, rejuvenating break from real life!

Love,
Brittany & Scott

* We did not stay at the hotel, but the marina is only $1 a foot and if you stay here on your boat, you have access to all the services this beautiful hotel has to offer!

The Thorny Path

Cape Samana at sunrise

If I am to be honest, I was dreading the passage from Luperon east...I had read enough articles, blog accounts and heard several first hand cautionary tales about just how “thorny” this route is. I wasn’t scared - no, that wasn’t it. We’ve cut our teeth, earned a few stripes and been through enough weather to learn that our boat is stellar in rough seas and we’re pretty good at guiding her through them. No...the emotion was dread. I knew it was going to be rough, I knew it was going to be unpleasant and I knew it was not going to be ‘fun’ - after all, they don’t call it the “thorny path” for nothing - and I just wanted to get it over with.

Those of you out there who wish you could be on an 'endless vacation', who long to lounge on a ‘yacht’ and sail off into the sunset...you need to also know that where there is yin, there is yang. I venture to guess a large percentage of you would have said “no thanks” to a life like ours had you been aboard Rasmus from Luperon to Samana...

We left Luperon at night, in what is referred to as the ‘night lee‘, when the island of Hispaniola causes a bubble of calm around her. As we departed the harbor mouth - the seas grew from three to five to eight feet. By the time the sun set, taking all traces of light with it, our boat felt like it was in a washing machine. “Some night lee” I muttered as I saw the wind climb to 25 knots. For the first time in my life, I took a dramamine. This was going to be a long night. 

Scott took the first three hour watch as I tried to get some sleep. Tried being the operative word. Sleeping in a boat when it’s bucking and rearing like an unbroken horse is not easy. You get five minute increments here and there, and try to rest as best you can, but it does little to rejuvenate the body or mind. It can be downright maddening, in fact.

Though I had prepared two meals to be heated up - they went uneaten. The seas were so large, so unruly and so confused that even warming a dish over the stove was not only impossible, but worthless - neither of us had any appetite for anything anyway. This was going to be a grab and go “snack” passage. Oh joy!

By the next morning, despite the forecast*, we were still motor-sailing into 20+ knots of wind and pounding headfirst into ocean swell that was anywhere from six to twelve feet. Every now and then we’d get hit by a misfit wave on the beam and our boat would angrily sway from left to right, left to right - a very unkindly motion in a monohull. Both of us were tired, we were cranky and we wanted to get there. There was an anchorage called Escondido. Exhausted and worn out, we had decided we would pull in there for a few hours, eat a hot meal and get some much needed sleep. We had estimated we would arrive by about 4pm, but the wind and seas refused to subside - and our boat speed suffered. At times we were motoring at 1800 RPMS and only making 2 knots. Most of you can walk faster than that.

The sun began it’s quick descent at 7pm and we were still an hour out of Escondido - an impressive, unmarked, unlit and unfamiliar anchorage that is tucked between towering cliffs and sheer rock faces. Coming into a place like that in the pitch black (there was no moon) is incredibly unnerving (and not recommended). “If at any point this seems insane we’re going back out and we’ll just continue through the night” Scott decided. Despite longing to stop the godforsaken motion of the boat and desperate for sleep, I agreed. Scott took the helm and I manned our search light. Our radar was on to reaffirm where our charts told us where land was, but when all you see are ominous black silhouettes of cliffs rising into the dusky night sky - nothing instills confidence. 

How far away are they? Can we really trust the radar? Are those breaking waves I hear? What was that little blip on the radar? What’s the depth? What if we run onto the rocks? This is one of those moments where things can go terribly wrong... The mind quietly and silently runs through the what if’s.

There were no other boats in the anchorage, no navigational lights or buoys (in fact, we’ve pretty much forgotten all about those!), not even a single shore light to provide perspective. We were on our own as we inched our way into the dark abyss that we hoped would be our temporary haven...

We dropped our anchor in thirty feet of water about 500 feet from shore. I set about cooking and Scott set our anchor alarm - dragging in this harbor would be very bad. We made the bed and collapsed, physically and mentally exhausted. It was then we noticed the swell. Every ten seconds a gentle rolling wave would hit the beam of our boat and we would roll from side to side, side to side - making sleeping sound impossible. Was there no escape from the movement?!? Not tonight.

Our guide book told us we needed to round Cape Samana by day break (any later and the wind and seas pick up, making a two hour passage potentially much longer) so we awoke - still exhausted - at 3am. I made some toast and tea, we started the engine, raised anchor and drifted off, back into the night and the open ocean...we arrived at Samana at 9am.

While I do (typically) paint a rather rosy picture of a life at sea - it is not without it’s blemishes. Luckily for Scott and I - we knew this going into it. We had prepared to take the good with the bad. What fun would cruising be if it was all smooth sailing? How satisfying would anything be if everything went exactly how we wanted it? What if there were no surprises or challenges? Would we appreciate it? Would we learn anything? No. So we take the good with the bad. After all - there would be no rainbows if there was no rain. But that doesn’t mean you have to like it in the moment...

* We did not make this passage with the guidance of our new sponsor, Chris Parker of MWC, just FYI. This was all on our own doing.

Motorcycle Diaries

Many people make the analogy that a dinghy is like the family car - and it is.  It just can't take you past the shore.  From there you walk, you bike, you take busses and taxis - OR - if you are like us...you rent a motorcycle.

The motorcycle is the primary mode of transportation in Luperon; they zip here and there, dodging pot holes and kicking up dust.  It is not unusual to see a family of 5 on one bike.  Babies in the front, dad in the middle, child and mamma on the back.  This is completely normal and accepted.  They are everywhere.

Scott (who has his motorcycle endorsement and has been riding since he was 10) has wanted to rent one since we arrived - but the timing just wasn't right.  Until this morning, that is, when - out of the blue and unprovoked - a guy approached us and offered us the use of his bike for half the day for 300 pesos.  We figured it was a sign.  It was definitely not on our "agenda" for the day, we had just come ashore to do a little laundry and pick up some produce, but we looked at each other, shrugged and figured "why not?".  We hopped on and away we went.  No map.  No plan.  Just took off.

I now understand why people tour on motorcycles.  There is something so exhilarating about seing the world from a bike - out in the open air with just open road in front of you.  It must be something with the feeling of wind in your hair and the sun on your skin- because riding a motorcycle - like sailing - is just so...freeing, almost meditative.  We zipped along wide open roads where we were greeted by smiling, waving children and cattle grazing lazily along the shoulder.  We passed village after village, each no longer than a city block.  The modest little homes, with their brightly colored paint jobs in hues of pink, blue and yellow stood in stark contrast to the green, rolling hills in the background.  Their beautifully maintained little yards, full of bright red bougainvillea and tropical flowers alongside humble, manicured gardens where they cultivate their produce.  We whizzed up hills, through valleys and all the while - beautiful panoramas filled our eyes as aromas filled our senses:  freshly cut grass,  fragrant plumeria, burning garbage and simmering food.  We saw so much from the back of that bike:  Donkeys, horses, and a man taking siesta under a tree...women cooking in an outdoor kitchen, butterflies, birds and a farmer tending to his crop with a machete...children playing tag, a young lady washing her friend's hair, an old woman gazing out her window and a hefty shopkeeper laughing with her patron...every day life going on as we passed through.

Che Guevara definitely had the right idea;  there is something, someone inside everyone that longs for the open road...to feel the wind in their hair and the sun on their face and to move forward towards a destination unknown.  To be completely, and utterly free...

"..we understood that our vocation, our true vocation, was to move for eternity along the roads and seas of the world. Always curious, looking into everything that came before our eyes, sniffing out each corner but only very faintly – not setting down roots in any land or staying long enough to see the substratum of things; the outer limits would suffice."

- Ernesto "Che" Guevara, The Motorcycle Diaries

Love,

Brittany & Scott

Going to Market

I love farmers' markets.  There is something so refreshing about buying produce, all dirty and imperfect, directly from the source.  This particular market was small - but the people here were lovely.  They simply gave you a plastic bag and you selected what you wanted - every now and then one of them would grab a particularly nice piece of produce and thrust it into your hand with a beaming smile as if to say: "This one is the best!".  I am constantly amazed by the kindness and generosity of the Dominican people - and the deliciousness of their produce.  For the first time in ages we ate delicious, sweet, juicy pineapple for breakfast...and not from a can!  Heaven.

Love,
Brittany & Scott

Lively Luperon

As I mentioned yesterday, there is a distinct change of pace here.  The first thing I notice is the music.  Music everywhere.  Latin beats and merengue fill the air from one store front to the next.  The main street is bustling with activity; women sweep their porches, men - huddled in groups - play excited games of dominos.  Women gather in gaggles toting their smiling, chubby babies by their arms, wiping the sweat off their brows with the backs of their hands...

Children shriek and scream as they run down the sidewalk to greet you with wide smiles.  Scooters and dirt bikes zig-zag down the street, their mufflers (or lack of?) grunting and spitting loudly.  Mangy dogs amble lazily down the road - giving little gruff barks every now and then to assert their aggression as they look over their shoulders...

Unlike in the islands where there were typically no more than a few little store fronts to choose from, the main street here is a yellow dirt road whose shoulders are crowded with ramshackle shops and cinderblock homes painted brightly.  Rooster calls sporadically join the cacophony of car horns, music and life...

Women periodically toss buckets of water into the road to limit the dust outside their doors, which are all open to the warm, tropical breeze.  The latin influence here is obvious.  Everyone sits outside their respective little plots in plastic lawn chairs, they settle into their own little spot of shade and watch the world go by.  It's lovely.

We love it here.

Love,
Brittany & Scott