Little Walk sails to Solomons Island

Part 16 marked the end of the Boat Quest series. As of May 15, I am the proud owner of Little Walk, a 1980 Valiant 40. As one dream is made real, a new one is enabled. I now have the means to sail anywhere in the world. Where to go?

Well, the first stop is the boatyard, to make the necessary repairs and upgrades that will ensure safe travels. During our Central America sailing trip a few months ago, I spoke with John Kretschmer about my plans to sail the boat--if I ended up buying it--from Baltimore to Savannah, where my parents have a vacation home, to get the necessary work done. He had a better idea: his sister Liz and brother-in-law Trevor are partners in a marina and boatyard in Solomons Island, Maryland. Their people are experts at the kind of work I needed, and as an FOJ (Friend of John), they would take extra special care of me and my boat. What more could I ask for? John said he would contact them to make the necessary introductions.

That just left figuring out how to get the boat from the Riviera Beach area, southeast of Baltimore, to Solomons Island, a distance of about seventy-five miles. To be safe, I didn't want to sail alone, especially on an unfamiliar boat. I needed to find someone to go with me. The kicker was that the boat needed to be moved from its current location at Tony's dock within a week and a half, so I needed someone who would be available on short notice. Kevin Harrison, from our Odyssey sailing trip, came immediately to mind. He lives in Elizabethtown, Pennsylvania, only a hundred miles from where the boat was docked, and he would have just completed teaching the spring term at McDaniel College. I emailed him an invitation, and he emailed me back right away with an acceptance. We spoke over the phone a couple of days later to work out a strategy for meeting at the boat, driving two cars down to Solomons, and leaving one there for the return trip. Kevin agreed to bring his toolkit, just in case, and I agreed to provision for the short trip and cover his expenses.

Kevin and I met at the boat on Sunday morning, May 23. We hauled our stuff aboard, and I gave him a quick tour. He liked what he saw, except for all the bird poop on the deck. We took the time to wash down the deck so it would be clean and dry when we returned, and then we got into our respective cars for the drive down to Solomons.

A couple of hours later, we met up again at the Spring Cove Marina's parking lot. We wandered around to get a feel for the place and its facilities and then walked into the office and asked to see Trevor. He came down from his office, and we spent a few minutes getting acquainted through our mutual connection to John Kretschmer. I ended the conversation by telling him we were headed back up to Baltimore to sail my boat down to the marina and that we would be back by early the next afternoon. He wished us well, and we left in my rental car to drive back up to the boat.

Tony was home when we returned, asleep in the hammock that overlooks his dock. He roused as we were preparing to depart and came down to talk with us. It's a good thing that he did, or we might have left the boat's meager fenders and dock lines behind. He assured us that they went with the boat. We thanked him, fired up the engine, and shoved off. There was only one problem: no water was coming out with the exhaust. I tried frantically to remember what Ray had said about where the water coolant seacock was located, but I had no idea. There had just been too many details during the orientation. I also forgot the way out of Rock Creek, because we found ourselves going up a dead-end tributary. It was time to call Ray. Fortunately, he answered--maybe he was expecting my call. He calmly told me to turn off the engine before it overheated and then directed me to look under the seat in the aft cabin for the seacock. I sent Kevin below to find it so I wouldn't lose the call, and he reported that as soon as he turned it, he could see water flowing through the associated filter's clear top. We fired up the engine again and looked over the side to see water coming out with the exhaust. The engine's temperature fell to about 110 degrees and stayed there. One disaster was averted. But we still didn't know where we were going. I still had Ray on the phone, so I tried to explain the landmarks around us. He didn't recognize anything but told me to follow the starboard-side shore until I could see the White Rocks Marina, which I should recognize from our sea trial sail. From there, I should know where to go. I thanked him and told him I would call later to let him know how we were doing.

Kevin and I could have cheered when we reached the open water of Chesapeake Bay, but we noticed that the water was extremely shallow--no more than fifteen feet deep--even at White Rocks, a small formation of bird poop-covered rocks (thus the name), about a half-mile offshore, and we were concerned about running aground. After we passed the rocks, we rounded up into the wind, put up the sails, and bore off to the south for Annapolis, our destination for the day, all the while keeping an eye on the depth meter.

There was enough wind to just sail, and we were in no great hurry, so we cut the engine and trimmed the sails. The GPS showed us at six-plus knots, with occasional bursts over seven, not bad for the blustery, unsettled weather conditions. Kevin and I took turns at the helm since neither the windvane or electronic autopilots were working. Before long, we had passed under the William Preston Lane Jr. Memorial Bridge, which was our cue to turn west toward Annapolis. We started the engine and doused the sails as we passed the Naval Academy and sighted the public docks, where we picked up a mooring for the night. We settled up with the harbormaster who came out to greet us and then hailed a water taxi using the VHF radio. The taxi driver suggested the Middleton Tavern for dinner, so we gave it a try. Good steaks and atmosphere.

We were up by 5:00 the next morning to get an early start on the remaining sixty miles. I tried to boil water for instant coffee, but I couldn't figure out how to get the stove lit--guess I should have covered that in the orientation with Ray. We made due with juice and muffins as we motored out of Annapolis harbor and headed south for Solomons. Spring Cove Marina normally stops hauling boats out at about 2:00, so we motorsailed all the way to make good time in the hopes of meeting that deadline.

We arrived at a little after 1:00 and were directed to tie up at the end of a T-shaped dock. Kevin wasn't feeling well and went to find a bathroom. I went off to find Trevor, who informed me that the haul-out bay was busy and that they wouldn't be able to haul my boat out for a day or two. Oh, well. At least we were there safely, even if we hadn't needed to leave Annapolis quite so early. Trevor introduced me to his wife Liz, who is John Kretschmer's sister, and we chatted for a few minutes, mostly about John and his escapades. The family resemblance was easy to see. Liz excused herself, and Trevor and I walked over to the haul-out bay, where I met Trevor's brother Alan, who was stepping a mast. We walked up to the shop and met Don, the boatyard manager, who was painting a mast. Don would be the person coordinating the work on Little Walk, so we set up a meeting for the next morning. To give him an advance idea of what was involved, I told him I would leave a copy of the boat survey on his desk.

Kevin and I hauled our stuff off the boat, readjusted the dock lines, and drove to a nearby hotel. After showers, we went off in search of a cold beer, which we found at the famous Tiki Bar, and then dinner at a waterfront restaurant. It had been a long day. After dinner, we returned to the hotel and called it an early night.

Kevin and I had compiled a short list of items the boat needed, so after breakfast the next morning, we went to the local West Marine store to see if we could find it all. We did. Those places are amazing, like boating toy stores. We returned to the boat to drop off the new goodies before my meeting with Don. When he showed up, Kevin wandered off to look at boats and said he would meet me at his car when I was ready to go. Don and I walked around on the deck, looking at the mast and rigging, and then went below to look at the chainplates and engine. He was pretty matter-of-fact about things, saying that a thirty-year-old boat should be expected to need the types of repairs we were considering. I mentioned that I wanted to get the ratty cushions reupholstered. He said I should pitch them, that the foam was old and disintegrating, and get new ones, plus a real mattress for the aft berth. He also suggested replacing the manual windlass with an electric one. I hadn't thought of any of these things, but he was right. All it would take is money, of course. Don said I should probably expect to pay almost what I had paid for the boat to get it into top condition, more if it needed a new engine. I nodded knowingly, but I was thinking, "Whoa! That's a lot more than I was expecting!" The first order of business was to pull the mast. Don thought they would have that done within a couple of weeks. We agreed to stay in touch about the work as it progressed, and I went off to find Kevin for the drive back to Baltimore and the flight home.

Thank you for all your help, Kevin!

Boat Quest, Part 16

Nan and I returned home from our Central America sailing trip on Saturday, May 8. The following Monday, just two days later, I flew to Baltimore to take a second look at Little Walk. John Kretschmer flew up from Fort Lauderdale to meet me and take a look for himself. The two of us met Ray, the owner, and Bob, the broker, at the boat, which was docked at Ray's friend Tony's pier on Rock Creek, near Riviera Beach, southeast of Baltimore. John and I spent about an hour looking at the boat, inside and out, using copies of the marine survey as our guide. I took advantage of Ray's intimate knowledge of the boat and asked dozens of questions, which he answered patiently and proudly, providing me with an invaluable orientation on the boat's many systems. John checked the chainplates, mast and bilges, looked into every nook and cranny, and then started a conversation with Bob in the cockpit, while I continued the orientation with Ray and took photos until the camera batteries died.

The weather was threatening rain, but we all agreed that we should take the boat out for a quick sea trial. Ray showed me how to power up the diesel engine and turn on the water coolant seacock. We let the engine idle for a few minutes to hear how it sounded before casting off the lines and motoring up the creek to Chesapeake Bay. Once we had reached open water, Ray revved the engine's RPMs up to cruising speed and insisted that I take the wheel. The boat steered smoothly and responsively, and the engine sounded smooth and steady. We put up the mainsail and unfurled the jib, and they filled immediately with the wind blowing in from the west ahead of the imminent rain. There was enough wind to just sail, so Ray cut the engine and we enjoyed the relative silence that followed. We tried different points of sail, and the boat handled nicely at every angle.

We could have stayed out all afternoon, but the sky was getting dark, and John and I had flights home to catch. Ray took the wheel as we sighted Tony's pier and slipped the transmission into neutral while we were still over a hundred yards away. Momentum carried us to a smooth stop just as the first raindrops began to fall. We quickly secured the boat and exchanged parting words. I thanked Ray profusely and told Bob I would call him within a couple of days.

John and I drove to a seafood diner and ate lunch while discussing the boat. John said that it was in better shape than he expected given all the negative comments in the survey. He was pleasantly surprised by how "stock" it was, lacking much of the stuff that most owners pile into their boats. But he cautioned that the rigging and mast issues were serious and needed to be corrected before considering any bluewater sailing. He advised replacing the engine, to give the boat a fresh, reliable start in its new life. And he recommended replacing the furling gear, windlass and bimini with "beefier" gear that could stand up to bluewater conditions. Overall, though, he thought Little Walk was a sweet little boat and that if I could get her for a good price, I should go for it.

I called Bob a couple of days later to discuss a revised offer based on the marine survey and a ballpark estimate of the necessary repairs. He said that he doubted if Ray would accept the new offer but that he would run it past him. Bob called back a little later with a counter-offer from Ray. I wanted to accept it, but Nan insisted that I offer a thousand dollars less. Ray accepted it, Bob wrote it up, and we had ourselves a deal.

Chicago Basin

It is the most beautiful place in Colorado, a state that already boasts the most spectacular scenery in the continental United States. The Chicago Basin is an area of pristine wilderness in the middle of the San Juan Mountains in the southwestern part of the state. One of the reasons for its unspoiled condition is that it is only accessible by foot and then only after first taking a train ride from either Durango or Silverton. The closest road is many miles away.

The world-famous Durango & Silverton Narrow Gauge Railroad stops to drop off climbers and backpackers in the ghost town of Needleton, near the intersection of the Animas River and Needle Creek, at an elevation of 8200 feet. After crossing the footbridge over the Animas River, it takes a six-mile hike along Needle Creek, with about a 2500-foot elevation gain, to get up into the basin.

The trail was originally built by the Civilian Conservation Corps during the Great Depression, and it is well maintained to this day, but it is still a grueling grunt. Having hauled a heavy pack up it twice before, I packed as lightly as possible last weekend when I returned for the first time in fourteen years, along with my neighbor Rich, his stepsons Wes and Miles, and Wes's friend Rich. This was a second annual trip for Rich, Wes, Rich and me after our Rim-to-Rim Grand Canyon hike last June, with Miles filling in for Jake this year.

By mid-afternoon on Saturday, we had reached the upper part of the basin, where the good campsites are located. There is a recent restriction on camping within one hundred feet of any water, so the campsite I stayed at with Dave Beckwith back in 1996, which we checked out along the way, was not usable. This turned out to be a good thing, because as we walked further up the trail, we spotted the basin's renowned mountain goats on the hillside above the creek. The goats are not indigenous; they were transplanted from Glacier National Park in Wyoming at about the same time that the trail was built in the 1930s. They are thrilling to see in the wild and add incredible charm to this already magnificent area.

Instead of shying away from us, the goats came down to investigate. Some in our group were afraid they would be head-butted, but the goats were only curious and came right up to us as we stood on the trail taking numerous photos. They moved on after a while, and we continued up the trail to a good campsite with easy access to the creek. As we were setting up our tents, the goats returned and wandered around our camp until they located a place at the edge where Miles had urinated. They pawed the ground and ate the wet dirt! It was gross to think about, but they were obviously craving the salt in the urine. With a group of five men, it wasn't long before we had marked most of our perimeter, and the goats started to fill up our campsite, but the novelty of having them so close by never wore off.

We played sheepshead, ate dinner, and then played more sheepshead until it started to get dark and cold. The goats finally went to wherever it is that they sleep and we retired to our tents. The next morning, the sun didn't reach our campsite until almost 8:30, and no one was in a hurry to get back on the trail until things warmed up. The day's plan called for all of us to hike up to Twin Lakes, in the upper basin that separates the area's three Fourteeners, Sunlight Peak, Windom Peak and Mount Eolus, which I had climbed with Dave Beckwith during our two previous trips. After appreciating the moonscape-like vistas and figuring out their routes, the others would climb Sunlight and Windom while I returned to camp, packed up, hiked out, and caught the train back to Durango so I could be back at work on Monday morning. The others would go back to camp after their climbs, return to climb Eolus and its subpeak, North Eolus, the next day, and then hike out on Tuesday.

The climb from our campsite to Twin Lakes was as difficult as I remembered it, maybe more so, even though I was using trekking poles to help ease the strain on my knees. I must be getting old. A few times along the trail, I thought to myself that I was happy I wasn't climbing the peaks again. It was enough just to see them once more from the lakes. I wondered if Nan would want to join me on another trip to the area someday. Places this beautiful need to be shared.

Happy birthday, Dad!

Boat Quest, Part 15

The marine survey for Little Walk arrived by email while we were at the Barefoot Cay Marina on Roatan. I sat at the computer in the marina office and read all twenty pages of it immediately. There was an unexpectedly high level of detail about every aspect of the boat, and most of it was negative, like this paragraph from the introduction:

This model vessel is well-known for its bluewater sailing pedigree. However, this particular vessel is in need of a major refit prior to venturing beyond protected inland waters, including significant renewal of the electrical systems, rigging, safety equipment, etc.

The report didn't get much more positive in the pages that followed. It was broken down into seventeen sections, each with three columns: a title, like "Propulsion Engine"; a detailed description of the particular item or feature; and a statement about its condition. Unfortunately, the "SEE RECOMMENDATIONS" condition outnumbered the "Appeared Serviceable" and "Operational" conditions by a total of forty-four to thirty-seven. The recommendations were listed in a separate section near the end of the report. Under that section's title, it said: "Recommendations in BOLD are considered essential for the safety and proper function of the vessel." Almost all of the recommendations were in bold.

When I finished reading the report, I felt sick to my stomach. There was so much wrong with the boat. Would it be worth the time, effort and money to try to correct all of its problems? I walked down the dock to where Quetzal was slipped to talk with John Kretschmer. He could tell by the look on my face that the news wasn't good. He asked if I wanted him to read the report, and I told him I would appreciate it. We walked back to the marina office, I called it up on the computer, and then I left him alone.

When I caught up to him later, John was smiling. He said it sounded like the boat was in pretty good shape. This was coming from a man who has written hundreds of sailboat reviews for Sailing magazine and is the author of Used Boat Notebook. He knows boats, and he was saying that there was hope for Little Walk. "Really?" I said. "What about all those recommendations?" He said that most of them weren't all that critical and that he hadn't read anything that he considered to be a deal-breaker, like hull damage or deck delamination. And the best part, he said, was that the surveyor included a fair market value that was more than ten thousand dollars below my offer price. The broker and owner would need to adjust that price down accordingly, and I could probably negotiate an even lower price. If I was willing to spend the difference on improvements, I would come out of the deal with the boat in great condition for what I had expected to pay in the first place.

Photos and captions from the marine survey of Little Walk:

Photograph of Little Walk as seen from the starboard bow, taken at the time of survey on 4/26/2010.

Photograph of Little Walk as seen from the starboard quarter, taken at the time of survey haul-out on 4/26/2010.

Photograph of Little Walk as seen from the port bow, taken at the time of survey haul-out on 4/26/2010.

Photograph of a blister on the port aft hull bottom, taken at the time of survey on 4/26/2010. Blisters up to 3” diameter were found randomly throughout the hull finishes.

Photograph of a port cap shroud chainplate attachment to its plywood knee. The knee has deterioration along its bottom and there is likely crevice corrosion of the chainplate. All of the shroud chainplates need removal and inspection.

Photograph of engine exhaust as seen from the starboard side, taken at the time of survey on 4/26/2010. The insulated piping is deteriorated, and there is minimal vertical separation between the point of seawater injection and the waterlift muffler.

Boat Quest, Part 14

It has been well over a year since I last wrote a Boat Quest post. The most recent one, Part 13, was about Otter II, the Valiant 40 I looked at with Stan Dabney while I was in Miami in January 2009 helping the Caouettes prepare their Valiant 40, Wild Iris, for a transatlantic crossing. Otter II sold several months later, much to my disappointment, before I could get anywhere close to making an offer. I went back occasionally to YachtWorld.com to check the Valiant 40 listings, but there were no other affordable boats worth considering.

Late last fall, I was checking the listings and noticed a 1980 Valiant located in Baltimore. As I looked at the photos in the listing's slideshow, I had the feeling that I had seen the boat before. I dug through my computer's photo archive and found the set of photos I had taken of Little Walk (Boat Quest, Part 10 and Part 11) back in May 2008 when I was in the Washington, D.C. area for an Internet conference. There was no question about it. It was the same boat, just located in a new place and listed with a new broker. I had not been able to get adequate answers from the previous broker to my questions about the boat's condition, so I had given up on it and assumed when it disappeared out of the listings that it had been sold. Apparently not. It was still priced higher than I thought it should have been but not as high as the previous broker said it would be based on some improvements the owner was putting into place.

I studied the description and the photos in the listing, and I studied the many photos I had taken myself. In addition to the basic design of the Valiant 40, which I had decided several years ago was the perfect boat for us, there were many features to like about this particular boat. Some Valiants have been almost excessively customized to meet the needs and desires of their owners, but not this one. It was close to stock, looking very much like it must have when it left the Uniflite factory in Bellingham, Washington back in 1980. The distinctive wooden hatchcovers, the fold-down saloon table, the tapered mast, the port-side pilot berth, the original electrical panel--it was all there.

I watched the listing compulsively through the winter, hoping for the right combination of factors that would make my dream of owning a Valiant 40 come true. The first factor was, of course, my wife Nan. If she was not in agreement, then that would be the end of it. But then, during her charmed birthday weekend in Denver back in January, Nan proposed the idea of living in Isla Mujeres, Mexico for a year. We could rent an apartment at Color de Verano on Laguna Macax. And since there is a pier right out back, we could maybe have a sailboat there to sail on weekends in order to help build Nan's confidence for more ambitious trips. Since I can work from anywhere that I can get a high-speed Internet connection, as I did last fall when we spent a month in Isla Mujeres, I was thrilled with the idea.

The second factor fell into place at the beginning of April: the listed price came down by $10K. At the previous price, the boat might never have sold, but at the new price, I was afraid it would sell quickly, so I called the broker to find out what it would take to put in an offer. He emailed me a form that I completed and faxed back to him, and I mailed him a deposit check for ten percent of the listed price--I didn't want to lose the boat to a better offer. I had been saving money in a "boat fund" for just this day since giving up on Sea Hawk back in November 2007. The offer was contingent on the results of a marine survey, so there was no risk of losing my deposit if the boat proved to be unseaworthy. I was able to coordinate getting the survey conducted before Nan and I left for our Central America sailing trip, but I wasn't able to get the results until we arrived in Roatan.

"The Odd-yssey" in Latitudes & Attitudes

Of course, as soon as I had given up hope of Latitudes & Attitudes ever publishing my article about our 2008 Odyssey sailing trip, they finally did publish it in their May 2010 issue, along with fourteen of the eighteen photos I submitted. If you missed it at the newstand or at the seafaring.com website, you can still read it in its published format at Capt. John Kretschmer's website: "The Odd-yssey" by John Lichty.

Editor Sue took a few liberties that I wasn't overly happy about, and there are some misspellings in the photo captions, but the article finally made it to print and that's what matters. She even mailed me a check, which went immediately into the "boat fund."

If you would like to read the original article, in its original format, with all eighteen photos, which I posted here back in March when I was sure it would never get published, here's a link to it: "The Odd-yssey".

The rest of the Central America sailing trip

The next morning, after our terrific day with Eric and his family, we sailed the short distance around the corner to Roatan's West End and picked up a mooring. The idea was to shorten the distance we would need to sail to reach our next destination, Lighthouse Reef, off the coast of Belize, making it a long one-day sail instead of an overnight passage.

The West End is Roatan's original tourist area. The beaches are beautiful and the snorkeling is surprisingly good. The still-unpaved road that runs parallel to the water is lined with funky shops and restaurants. The area seems to be a magnet for "trustafarians" and Lonely Planet types. Capt. John and I drank beers at a beachfront bar while Nan and Jan explored, and then we all dinghied back out to the boat for sundowners and Capt. John's jambalaya.

We were up at dawn the next day to take full advantage of the available daylight. The southern entrance into Lighthouse Reef is tricky and cannot be navigated safely at night. We made good time surfing a broad reach most of the day, accompanied by dolphins feeding on the fish fleeing our wake. Unfortunately, the late afternoon light and significant wave action when we arrived at the reef made it too difficult to exactly locate the entrance. We dropped anchor in shallow water outside the reef, with the idea of spending the night and trying again in the morning, but the holding ground was poor and the water too rough. Capt. John made the decision to press on for Ambergris Caye, off the coast of Belize, and we sailed on. So much for the Great Blue Hole. Maybe next time.

We arrived at San Pedro on Ambergris Caye early the next morning. Unlike Lighthouse Reef, the entrance through the protective reef was well marked. The water inside the reef was extremely shallow, so we ended up anchoring a few hundred yards offshore and dinghying in. The first order of business was to clear in with Customs and Immigration, but we arrived before they were open, so Nan and I wandered up and down the main drag looking for an Internet café and a cheap hotel room for much-needed showers. We found both but returned to clear in with the crew first before going our separate ways. We regrouped for lunch at Elvi's Kitchen, probably the most famous restaurant on Ambergris Caye. The food was excellent, as was the Belikin, Belize's one and only local beer.

After lunch, John and Capt. John spent time in an Internet café while Jan, Nan and I did some gift shopping. Belizean Arts Gallery and Toucan Gift Shop offered the best native arts and crafts we could find. We met up again late in the afternoon for a wet-bottomed dinghy ride back to where Quetzal was anchored and spent a quiet night on the boat in anticipation of another early departure the next day.

The final passage of our two-week trip was an overnight to Isla Mujeres, Mexico. Light winds on the second morning, as we passed Cozumel, prompted us to fly the spinnaker, but we doused all the sails as we approached the shallow water at Punta Sur, Isla Mujeres's southern point. Quetzal's old diesel engine, which had been giving us consistent trouble with overheating due to a worn-out heat exchanger, came close to calling it quits on the final stretch to Marina Paraiso, just south of the main downtown area. Capt. Doug Dorn, who met us in his dinghy to offer advice and assistance as we were approaching the marina, asked Capt. John why he didn't want to back into the slip instead of going in bow first. Capt. John told him that he was afraid the engine would give up for good if he shifted from forward to reverse; that's how close he thought it was.

Nan and I like to get off a boat when the trip is over instead of staying on until it's time to fly home. Mostly, it's a comfort thing: marinas are the hottest, buggiest, most humid places you could ever hope to stay. We had made reservations to stay at Color de Verano that night, in one of the new ground-floor studio units, so after we checked in with José in the marina office, we gave Louis, the owner, a call. He said he would open the unit for us, and I asked if he would also be willing to give us a ride there since he would be passing right by the marina on his way. He said he would pick us up in twenty minutes, so Nan and I hurriedly packed our duffel bags and made plans to meet the rest of the crew at Brisas Grill for dinner.

Louis and his wife Teresa have done a wonderful job with their Color de Verano building at the corner of Rueda Medina and Mateos. Nan and I had stayed there three times before, once in the third-floor apartment and twice in the penthouse, most recently for a month last fall. While we were there that last time, the ground floor, which once housed a coffee shop, was being converted into two studio apartments. They turned out beautifully, with creative art-deco touches and one-of-a-kind fixtures. Louis put us in the unit closest to the building's lobby, and after seeing how nice it was, we wished that we had made the reservation for two nights instead of just one, but Nan had been able to use credit card reward points to get a free night at the Privilege Aluxes hotel across the street for the next night.

As we walked down Rueda Medina toward Brisas Grill, who should we see but our Spanish tutor from last fall, Juan Torres. He has been impossible to reach since then, and he told us the reason was that his computer had died, so he had no email access. I asked if he would be interested in having me pay him to translate the cookbook I am writing in conjunction with Juan Gomez's family into Spanish. He said that he would be, but then he shrugged when I told him he would need a computer. On a whim, I offered to give him my laptop. His face lit up immediately. We still need to work out how to get it to him, and I will need to buy a replacement laptop, but having Juan involved with the project will make a huge difference.

Entering Brisas Grill was like a homecoming. Our great friend Juan Gomez greeted us with hugs, as did Ventura, Irving and the owner, Weimar. There were big smiles all around but obvious disappointment that we were there for only two days. We took a table on the beach and ordered two of Ventura's special margaritas. Capt. John, Jan and John joined us shortly and we all ate a fantastic dinner as the sun set on another day in paradise.

We had an appointment with Louis for the next morning. Back in January, when Nan and I were in Denver to celebrate her birthday, she had tossed out the idea of spending a year living in Isla Mujeres and renting Louis and Teresa's apartment overlooking Laguna Macax. We had looked at the apartment briefly during a previous visit when it was being built but had not seen it since its completion. Louis was more than happy to show it to us. He is rightly proud of the innovations he designs into everything he builds, whether it is a simple window or an elaborate chest of drawers. The apartment is located directly on the lagoon and has two levels, a main living area downstairs and a private rooftop deck with breezes and views upstairs. It would be perfect for us, and Louis said that our dog Scout would be more than welcome to join us.

Nan and I returned to Brisas Grill for lunch and to make arrangements with Juan Gomez to stop by his house that evening with some gifts we had brought for his children. As we passed the beach across from Jax Bar and Grill on our way back to Color de Verano, we spotted Eloy, the old man who sells popcorn and chips on the beach, sitting on his adult tricycle with his basket full of snacks in the back. Last fall, we had noticed that he was in need of new shoes, so we promised we would get him some. We ran inside to get the new Reeboks we had brought for him and then ran out to the beach to give them to him. Eloy doesn't speak much English, but we could tell he was touched.

We spent the rest of the afternoon moving across the street to the Privilege Aluxes hotel and reading on the beach. It was a relief to escape the unseasonable heat with a quick dip in the cool ocean. It made me wish we weren't leaving the next morning. We regrouped back in our room and then drove our rented golf cart down to Juan and Paula Gomez's home in the Salina Grande colonia. It was fun to spend time with the family and see the photos from their daughter Paulina's first communion. We talked briefly about the cookbook, and I told them about inviting Juan Torres to do the translation. They promised to take more photos of Paula's dishes and send them to me. I hope to have the book close to completion by the time Nan and I return for two weeks in September.

We met the rest of the crew that night at the central plaza and walked up Hidalgo to find a restaurant for our final meal together. We agreed on Rolandi's, Isla Mujeres's most popular restaurant for Italian food, and ate another excellent meal. We all had flights to catch the next morning, so we called it an early night and said our good-byes.

A day on Roatan

Our day on Roatan with Capt. John's friend Eric Anderson and his family was the highlight of the trip. We got off to a late start because Eric had a flat tire while driving over to pick us up at Barefoot Cay Marina from his home at the east end of the island. On the drive back to his house, he gave us a guided tour of Roatan and how it has developed since he first moved there more than thirty years ago. Eric was the Cessna Aircraft rep for South America in the '70s and flew small planes over Roatan frequently in his travels back and forth. From the air, it looked like paradise, so he convinced his family to purchase property there. To this day, they own a good portion of the east end of the island, including Port Royal Harbor on the south side, where Eric and his family live, and Camp Bay Beach on the north side, where Eric has a beach house. As he told us during our tour, he sees himself as the steward of his property, so he does what he can to control development on the parcels he sells off and is active in preserving the island's coconut palms, which are dying from a yellowing disease epidemic.

When we arrived at Eric's home on Port Royal, we were greeted by his wife Sarita, his three-year-old son Axel and the family's two friendly Rottweilers. We admired the views, flipped through scrapbooks containing mementos from all the past boating visitors to Port Royal, and then walked down to the pier for a boat ride in Eric's skiff. He showed us the small island a little ways offshore where he had built a runway so he could fly directly to his home, the ruins of a failed marina that was also the scene of a bloody murder, and a maze of mangroves that could be negotiated as a shortcut around to the north side of the island. They're rare in the area, but Eric told us to keep an eye out for alligators. He had once rescued one that had been knocked unconscious by a fisherman.

Sarita and Axel, who did not go on the boat ride, had a nice barbecue dinner waiting for us when we returned. After dinner, Eric suggested that we drive over to Camp Bay. Nan and I exchanged contact information with Sarita, said our good-byes to her and Axel, and promised to sail into their beautiful harbor someday. Camp Bay was a long, pristine stretch of beach, spoiled only by a profusion of plastic bottles brought ashore by the waves. Eric's beach house was nestled back in the palms, almost invisible from the beach, which was intentional, according to Eric. He said he doesn't understand the desire to build right out at the water's edge, detracting from an otherwise uninterrupted view up and down the beach. The beach house itself was a marvel, a spiral construction around a central courtyard, with compact buildings for life's functions--cooking and eating, sleeping and relaxing--in the four corners, connected by stairways, like a modern Swiss Family Robinson. Bats had taken up residence under every eave and were dropping their guano everywhere. It was dusk when we were leaving, and the bats were busy hunting biting insects, so it was probably a worthwhile trade-off.

Greetings from Roatan!

We are sitting poolside at the Barefoot Cay Marina in Roatan, one of the Bay Islands of Honduras, enjoying the cool breezes that propelled us here from points south. We arrived yesterday morning after four days and three nights of continuous sailing from Providencia, a small Colombian island off the coast of Nicaragua.

Capt. John wasn't kidding when he said we would knock out a good portion of the total sailing distance in the first half of the trip. We departed the Careening Cay Marina in Bocas del Toro, Panama last Saturday and sailed three days and two nights to Providencia, stayed the night and then headed out again the following afternoon. We have covered about six hundred miles so far in seven days, and a fair number of those miles have been motor sailing in light winds. Our best sailing so far was on Friday evening, when we were zipping along at 8.5 knots or more in a broad reach with a fast northerly current.

Backing up to the beginning, Nan and I had an uneventful trip from Colorado to Panama City, where we stayed at the Country Inn located at the Pacific end of the Panama Canal. The first photo shows Nan standing on our balcony, with the bridge over the Canal and boats from the Balboa Yacht Club behind her. The next day, we flew over to Bocas del Toro and met up with Capt. John and fellow crewmembers John and Jan on Quetzal at the Careening Cay Marina.

Providencia was a bit of a let-down. The tiny island is parched from seven months with no rain, so there was no water available to refill our boat's tanks and no produce to be bought at the tiendas. Nan and I rented a scooter for the day and motored around the island, being careful not to add to the considerable iguana and black crab road-kill we saw. There were some nicely kept houses here and there, but the poverty was stark and the litter overwhelming. The island is not set up well for boat visitors; there were no facilities of any kind at the public dock, not even restrooms. We stayed pretty sweaty and grubby, except for quick boat showers, until we arrived here in Roatan.

Today we are going to tour Roatan with Capt. John's friend Eric, who lives here with his wife Sarita and young son Axel. They are going to take us to some nice snorkeling spots and then we'll find a good spot for a picnic.

Tomorrow we will set sail for Lighthouse Reef in Belize. It should be a long one-day sail that will put us close to the Great Blue Hole. From there, we will do another day sail to Ambergris Cay in Belize and then an overnight sail to Isla Mujeres, arriving on Thursday afternoon.

Upcoming Sailing Trip

On Thursday morning, Nan and I are off to Panama to begin the sailing trip I wrote about last August in "A change in plans". Since I wrote it, there have been other changes in the plans. Instead of sailing from May 1 to 15, we will be sailing from April 24 to May 7, and instead of ending the trip in Key West, Florida, we will be ending it in Isla Mujeres, Mexico. The shorter distance means that we can take our time and explore more areas of coastal Central America.

According to Captain John, the for-sure stops are Providencia, a small Colombian island off the coast of Nicaragua; Roatan in the Bay Islands off Honduras; and South Water Cay and Placencia in Belize. With our added time, other likely stops could include Corn Island, off Nicaragua; Cayos Cochinos in the Bay Islands of Honduras; Banco Chinchorro and Cozumel, islands off the east coast of Mexico's Yucatan Peninsula; and Punta Allen, along that same coast.

Our starting point will be Bocas del Toro, Panama, where John left his cutter-rigged Kaufman 47 sailboat, Quetzal, after his last trip. Bocas is on the Caribbean side of Panama, close to the border with Costa Rica, but we can't fly there directly from the United States, so we will be flying into Panama City and spending a night at a hotel right on the Panama Canal. I hope to do a tour of the Canal the next day since we don't catch our puddle jumper to Bocas until mid-afternoon. We'll meet up with the rest of the crew and spend the night on the boat before taking care of final provisioning and shoving off by noon on Saturday.

We're looking forward to returning to Isla Mujeres again, at the end of our trip, after our month-long stay there last fall. We have asked John if we could arrive a day earlier than planned so we can spend a little more time with our friends there. I am still working on Los Sabores de Isla Mujeres (Tastes of Isla Mujeres) with Juan and Paula, and we would like to take a look at Teresa and Luis's apartment on Laguna Macax as a possible future rental.

It is my hope to update this blog with photos and descriptions over the course of our trip, depending on the availability of Internet access, so please check back starting later this week. Away we go!