We made it to Roatan… but the passage here really sucked. Definitely not the worst one ever, but if it had continued in the same way for another week it would have been a close contender for that horrible award.
The anchorage next to Fantasy Island in Roatan
We thought it would take us about a week and everybody we talked to said it would be 3 or 4 days, no problem. So when we left Panama my mindset went from preparation mode to being a bit blase’ about the whole thing… 3 or 4 days was nothing.
It was not nothing.
As we were leaving Colon, motoring out through the entrance with big rock walls on either side, the engine stopped again. In almost the same spot it stopped when we came back from the San Blas. The bits of silicone in our fuel tank attack yet again. Garth was adamant that he pumped them all out when we were at the marina, but some of them obviously decided to stick around. The rock walls were rapidly approaching and we were completely surrounded by huge cargo ships either going towards or waiting to go towards the canal. I don't think you're supposed to have your sails up anywhere near the entrance to Colon, but we nobody cared when we sailed in last time. So we popped the sails up once again and sailed away from Panama. The seas were rough, so Garth decided not to even bother fixing the engine. It could wait until things calmed down in a few days. So we didn't leave on a good note and should have taken it as a bad sign... leaving on a passage with no secondary means of propulsion is not a good idea. When everything goes to shit if you don't have a reliable engine, you're screwed.
Things didn't all go to shit, luckily, but we didn't have a fun time. The wind was good for the first day and then it swung around earlier than it was supposed to. Which left us sailing straight upwind. We tacked back and forth for days, until the wind finally died down and we were left drifting on flat seas. That at least gave us time to fix the engine. But the wind eventually came back and it came back strong. We had about 30-35 knots for the rest of our trip, still on the nose. The last time we had strong, steady wind like that was In New Zealand. It felt just like home. Cold, wet, windswept home. It was actually sunny and windy at the same time for once and we would have been flying along if we had been downwind. But we were not. We had to tack every few hours to avoid reefs and islands, which doesn't sound like a big deal. But after a few days of constantly changing direction, we got really sick of it. I don't think we’ve ever had to tack so often in this boat. Like ever.
The one bright spot on this shitty passage was these guys.
I was watching this boat off in the distance when it changed direction and headed towards us, just as we were passing through the border to Honduras. Completely overloaded with people, thoughts of pirates definitely crossed my mind. But as they pulled up alongside us it was obvious that they were just out having fun. With a bbq going and music pumping, every single person on board was screaming and waving, trying to talk to us in Spanish. When it became obvious that we couldn't say much in their language (“I want five pineapples please”), they all took off their shirts and started waving them over their heads like a group of rowdy Honduran strippers, before turning around and continuing on their way. Oh Central America, you crazy mofo.
So after we spent a few days beating into strong winds and avoiding hordes of excitable young men, the weather turned bad and the wind got even stronger. There was torrential rain for a day or two and the boat was balanced on a frightening angle. I'm so sick of weather. We finally arrived at Roatan after dark with maybe 35 knots of wind blowing the spray straight into our faces and down our jackets, just in case we weren't wet enough from the torrential rain. So after nine days into our four day passage, we tacked back and forth in front of Roatan all night. Like a pair of tired, cold drowned rats. In the morning the rain still hadn't let up and we couldn't see a thing, so we just kept pacing back and forth in front of the entrance like vultures waiting to attack. We weren't sure if our charts were accurate or if the channel would be well marked, so we just waited. And waited. I found a book on Central America that somebody had given us, which had hand drawn charts for Roatan. They were pretty close to our Navionics charts, which was reassuring. The book said that the water was clear and to just follow the edge of the reef in, and it pointed out two sand banks to look out for. It said they would would be very easy to see. Awesome.
At around 11 am the rain finally stopped and was replaced with occasional drizzle, so we stopped pacing and headed in. I stood on the bow to watch for the reef, but the water was brown. Not just a bit murky, but a thick sludgy brown colour. We couldn't see a thing. A huge branch went past, and all we could see was the bit sticking out of the water. We weren't going to see any sandbanks or reefs in this water.
As we rounded the corner, the first thing we saw was a little sailboat stuck on the reef. There were boats all around him trying to help, with two big launches trying to pull him off. The boat was almost on it's side, and the poor guy onboard looked exhausted as he hauled on ropes. We later found out that he'd been there all night while we were sailing back and forth in the rain. He'd tried to come in at night, got stuck on the reef and had been calling on channel 16. Nobody was monitoring it, because everybody chats on a different channel. So he had been there out in the wind and rain for a really long time while his boat got more and more beaten up, smashing down on the reef over and over again as each wave went past.
I've never been so grateful for having to sit in the rain before… at least we were sailing and not getting smashed on a reef. It was enough to bring tears to my eyes for this poor solo sailor who had just wanted to get out of the rain. At least that was a lesson we didn't have to learn for ourselves… always wait until you can see where you’re going.
Xxx Monique
Our anchorage a few days after the rain cleared up
We thought it would take us about a week and everybody we talked to said it would be 3 or 4 days, no problem. So when we left Panama my mindset went from preparation mode to being a bit blase’ about the whole thing… 3 or 4 days was nothing.
It was not nothing.
As we were leaving Colon, motoring out through the entrance with big rock walls on either side, the engine stopped again. In almost the same spot it stopped when we came back from the San Blas. The bits of silicone in our fuel tank attack yet again. Garth was adamant that he pumped them all out when we were at the marina, but some of them obviously decided to stick around. The rock walls were rapidly approaching and we were completely surrounded by huge cargo ships either going towards or waiting to go towards the canal. I don't think you're supposed to have your sails up anywhere near the entrance to Colon, but we nobody cared when we sailed in last time. So we popped the sails up once again and sailed away from Panama. The seas were rough, so Garth decided not to even bother fixing the engine. It could wait until things calmed down in a few days. So we didn't leave on a good note and should have taken it as a bad sign... leaving on a passage with no secondary means of propulsion is not a good idea. When everything goes to shit if you don't have a reliable engine, you're screwed.
Things didn't all go to shit, luckily, but we didn't have a fun time. The wind was good for the first day and then it swung around earlier than it was supposed to. Which left us sailing straight upwind. We tacked back and forth for days, until the wind finally died down and we were left drifting on flat seas. That at least gave us time to fix the engine. But the wind eventually came back and it came back strong. We had about 30-35 knots for the rest of our trip, still on the nose. The last time we had strong, steady wind like that was In New Zealand. It felt just like home. Cold, wet, windswept home. It was actually sunny and windy at the same time for once and we would have been flying along if we had been downwind. But we were not. We had to tack every few hours to avoid reefs and islands, which doesn't sound like a big deal. But after a few days of constantly changing direction, we got really sick of it. I don't think we’ve ever had to tack so often in this boat. Like ever.
The one bright spot on this shitty passage was these guys.
I was watching this boat off in the distance when it changed direction and headed towards us, just as we were passing through the border to Honduras. Completely overloaded with people, thoughts of pirates definitely crossed my mind. But as they pulled up alongside us it was obvious that they were just out having fun. With a bbq going and music pumping, every single person on board was screaming and waving, trying to talk to us in Spanish. When it became obvious that we couldn't say much in their language (“I want five pineapples please”), they all took off their shirts and started waving them over their heads like a group of rowdy Honduran strippers, before turning around and continuing on their way. Oh Central America, you crazy mofo.
So after we spent a few days beating into strong winds and avoiding hordes of excitable young men, the weather turned bad and the wind got even stronger. There was torrential rain for a day or two and the boat was balanced on a frightening angle. I'm so sick of weather. We finally arrived at Roatan after dark with maybe 35 knots of wind blowing the spray straight into our faces and down our jackets, just in case we weren't wet enough from the torrential rain. So after nine days into our four day passage, we tacked back and forth in front of Roatan all night. Like a pair of tired, cold drowned rats. In the morning the rain still hadn't let up and we couldn't see a thing, so we just kept pacing back and forth in front of the entrance like vultures waiting to attack. We weren't sure if our charts were accurate or if the channel would be well marked, so we just waited. And waited. I found a book on Central America that somebody had given us, which had hand drawn charts for Roatan. They were pretty close to our Navionics charts, which was reassuring. The book said that the water was clear and to just follow the edge of the reef in, and it pointed out two sand banks to look out for. It said they would would be very easy to see. Awesome.
At around 11 am the rain finally stopped and was replaced with occasional drizzle, so we stopped pacing and headed in. I stood on the bow to watch for the reef, but the water was brown. Not just a bit murky, but a thick sludgy brown colour. We couldn't see a thing. A huge branch went past, and all we could see was the bit sticking out of the water. We weren't going to see any sandbanks or reefs in this water.
As we rounded the corner, the first thing we saw was a little sailboat stuck on the reef. There were boats all around him trying to help, with two big launches trying to pull him off. The boat was almost on it's side, and the poor guy onboard looked exhausted as he hauled on ropes. We later found out that he'd been there all night while we were sailing back and forth in the rain. He'd tried to come in at night, got stuck on the reef and had been calling on channel 16. Nobody was monitoring it, because everybody chats on a different channel. So he had been there out in the wind and rain for a really long time while his boat got more and more beaten up, smashing down on the reef over and over again as each wave went past.
I've never been so grateful for having to sit in the rain before… at least we were sailing and not getting smashed on a reef. It was enough to bring tears to my eyes for this poor solo sailor who had just wanted to get out of the rain. At least that was a lesson we didn't have to learn for ourselves… always wait until you can see where you’re going.
Xxx Monique
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