Santa Cruz-Galapagos

From San Cristobal, we had a comfortable day's sail to Peurto Ayora on the island of Santa Cruz.

This island is far more populated than San Cristobal and the town is heaving with tourists and tour companies vying for their business. Not as many sea lions though!

Again we did various tours during the day and whiled away the early evenings at the Oyster  happy hour.

Oyster Happy Hour Terrace

End of Happy Hour -Dedicated driver.

Flasher at pool on Oyster Terrace-come a little closer Girly!

Bonkers street...Oyster crews adding to the ambiance.

Hmm..should I go for the large or the Extra Large?

Successful pairing.

May I have the pleasure Senorita?

We had dinner ashore most evenings to avoid the enormous  swell in the bay which had the boat rolling alarmingly. We may as well have been at sea rather than anchored in a seemingly protected bay.

We found an area frequented by the locals which Helen nicknamed "Bonkers Street" where we 'dined' at crowded tables from open  barbecues in the street . The food was great, the beer was cold and the company was excellent- all for less than 10 dollars a head. 

The locals on Santa Cruz were welcoming and friendly and on our tours we were once again fortunate to see more of the unusual wild life which inspired Charles Darwin and his Theory of evolution.

The frigate birds on Santa Cruz have been particularly impressive and at this time of the year the males are a sight to behold. In order to attract a mate, they inflate their red balloon like neck pouches spectacularly. Possibly a very demoralising experience if you are a male frigate bird surrounded by other fully inflated competitors displaying  to the circling females who are making choices based on the size of the equipment.

The blue footed boobies are also unique to the Galapagos and their comical mating dances were a source of great entertainment to us and obviously to the Spanish explorers who gave them their name....bobo or "stupid " in Spanish. 

The males blue footed boobies attract the females by energetically displaying their feet .The brighter blue the feet are and the higher they are lifted..no mean feet (?)when you are a duck..perhaps this is where the term "goose stepping" comes from. ....the more likely the booby is to get lucky.

San Cristobel, Galapagos

Our first port of call in the Galapagos was the island of San Cristobal.

As we put down our anchor, we were visited by a curious sea lion who came out to explore a new platform on which to sunbathe..the stern platform of the good ship Legend. Unfortunately for him, his personal hygiene, most notably his breath and poor toilet etiquette,  belied his charming demeanour  and we dispatched of him post haste.

"Requesting Permission to come aboard Skipper"

 Within minutes of his ignominious departure we  discovered that Wreck Bay is alive with sea lions. The town on the bay is home to 6 000 human inhabitants and 20 000 sea lions,  all competing for a comfortable spot in which to relax in-between fishing forays. The seals are winning.....

We were forced to herd them off our boat 24/7...the sea lions not the locals!

2 Star accommodation -despite the name.

The determined creatures have taken over the newly built sea front promenade and children's play area and  the  locals deter them from climbing onto their boats with barbed wire…so the white leather cushions in our  shady cockpit, sensibly accessed via a swim platform and a stainless steel ladder must have seemed like a 5 star retreat.

No room at the inn

Bigger and stronger locals fight back!

 Once our anchor was down and we had dealt with the seal lion reconnaissance parties, we were expected to wait on board for several hours before dealing with the most painful and complicated immigration procedures we have yet had to endure.

The militia of San Cristobal, men in big boots with guns, came aboard to 'welcome us to the Galapagos". They required 5 copies of every single document we possessed and charged us over $1000 for the pleasure of visiting their Archipelago for 2 weeks!

The Galapagos ecological balance is being carefully protected by these military fellows and the numerous photocopies of our documents seemed to prove their diligence. Somewhere on the islands however, there are massive warehouses filled with several rain forests worth of paper work..all being guarded by men in boots...or sea lions!

As a general rule, I would say that the officials in most of the countries that we have visited have obviously never met the PR people in these same countries. One group spends millions dreaming up posters and slogans to entice people to their destinations while the other group does their best to ruin the experience for the tourists once they get there with mindless bureaucracy and rude and unwelcoming officials.

In the Galapagos, the officials take the "treat 'em mean and keep 'em keen" philosophy to the extreme and once you have completed their strenuous formalities, yachts are free to anchor in very limited demarcated areas. From there you have to pay handsomely for tours on land or boat with official tour guides.

Finally ashore...hair awry after battling sea lions and officials.

Turn your back and they take over again!

Keeping an eye  the sea lions and officials for over a hundred years...nothing surprises him any more!

Al and I were however quite determined to make the most of the Galapagos on this trip. In 1987 we were given only 72 hours on the islands. We managed to stay for 5 days in the end but we were given enough of a taste of the unique wild life on the islands to encourage us to cough up for several tours on each of the islands

Small rays circling the boat in the evening..they feed on insects on the surface.

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The San Cristobal tours took us to volcano craters, giant tortoise sanctuaries and beaches covered with land and marine iguanas, marvellous birds and the ubiquitous sea lions. Our distaste for the officialdom began to fade as we began to appreciate the need for conservation of this environment and the sometimes extreme efforts of the authorities to protect their heritage.

Will refrain from beauty and the beast comments...know that someone out there will be rude!

Our favourite trip on San Cristobal took us drift snorkeling through a deep fissure between two volcanic outcrops alive with sharks turtles and eagle rays.

The sharks, harmless white tips and less  harmless Galapagos v
ersions of bull sharks were alarmingly curious and at any one time we were surrounded by 5 to10 sharks..some within a metre or two of our nervous fins.

An amazing experience but next time I might wear the pink floral swimsuit languishing in the aft cabin rather than the possibly more flattering but distinctly more seal like black Lycra number that seemed to attract more attention than I had in mind!

Al- happy to circle one of the harmless curious denizens of the deep.

Crossing the equator- las Perlas to Galapagos

PACIFIC DOLDRUMS-flat calm but sharks, dolphins or Neptune disturbing the peace.

 

I was somewhat dreading our trip to Galapagos from Las Perlas. The reason for the apprehension was the fact that the same trip in February 1988 took us 16 days to cover a mere 800 miles.

 I remember bobbing up and down in the Pacific doldrums on Legend I for days on end in sweltering heat, praying for wind. On one particularly  soul destroying day we even went backwards when a current caught us and pushed us in the wrong direction. I seem to remember drifting past vegetable peelings we had thrown overboard the day before!

On this trip, we did no bobbing or drifting and, thanks to Chris's accurate weather routing, we made it to the Galapagos in just 4 and a half days- A 400% improvement if my calculations are accurate.?

Chris accurately predicted where and when we would run out of wind and with a little more cash in the kitty for diesel this time, we  fired up the motor and proceeded to cross the doldrums at a sensible 6.5 knots which kept our morals in fine shape.

Equator Celebration

On our 4th day and final day at sea on this voyage, we crossed the equator and headed into the Southern Hemisphere.  Alan and Chris and I had all crossed the equator by boat before. (Useless fact; Naval tradition refers to those who have had this distinction as 'Trusty shellbacks'. )

We had no need to be singled out for a drubbing by  Neptune therefore and  the three of us chose to take a swim in on the equator to mark the crossing. According to the charts, the water was more than 3 kilometres deep... a long way down and plenty of big creatures besides Neptune himself, potentially lurking in the depths.

Nervous smiles from the Trusty Shellbacks...shark bait?

 
 We survived to blog again and Nellie , a Southern ocean virgin, or a Polly wog (another vital Naval term ) appeased the sea Gods by pouring a good dose of rum overboard -the cheap stuff we keep for anesthetizing fish or for emergency rations-and cooking us a delicious dinner…pistachio encrusted tuna..freshly caught a few hours earlier..with fruit salsa and chocolate cake. Another fine dining experience on the good ship Legend.

Sunrise off Kicker Rock Galapagos .

Las Perlas -enroute to Galapagos

After our rushed whirl of shopping, stacking and packing in Panama , we were relieved to see the city skyscrapers  receding into the distance as we headed for Las Perlas, a small group of island about 30 miles off the coast of Panama.

Volcanic Beach at San Jose

The Las Perlas group is largely uninhabited apart from a few holiday homes for wealthy Panamanians and scattered fishing villages. Their claim to fame has been the fact that the islands were used for several series of the reality television program, Survivor.

 The original Indian inhabitants were not the greatest survivors apparently. They were slaughtered by the Spanish Conquistadors in their greed for the pearls that the Islands produced. One particularly brutal Spaniard rounded up the island chiefs and fed them to his dogs! That would have given  reality television a new dimension!

There were  no vicious dogs in sight as we meandered down the chain for a week, but we did see whales and rays and dolphins and huge colonies of frigates and boobies and pelicans. The only nasty critters around were jelly fish who curtailed our swimming activity somewhat. They would give you a nasty little sting when you encountered them..just unpleasant enough to spoilt your day but thankfully not lethal. 

Apart from these inhospitable natives, we enjoyed wonderful anchorages in calm, quiet lagoons with few other boats in sight. We took a dinghy ride up a freshwater river, collected cowrie shells on a never ending beach and somehow managed to survive.

 

Alan and Dylan..fishing strategy circa 2013.

Alan and Dylan on right..fishing strategy 1987. Dave and Nicholas, Dylan's Dad and brother on left.

Alan tried out his new, deadly spear gun and caught a small snapper but Dylan proved to be the king fisherman and speared a large snapper which comfortably fed 6 of us at a beach barbecue. Apparently  justifying the undisclosed but reportedly hefty price tag .

Piscatorial death on hand - reportedly.

Hopefully the spear guns on Orion and Legend will continue to keep the freezer stocked on our journeys  across the Pacific. Food prices in Tahiti are reported to be astronomical and the spear gun will pay for itself over and over again…etc, etc... man talk for the equivalent of shoes and handbags.

Shell collecting..thirsty work.

Survivor Oyster Style

We lingered in the Las Perlas waiting for a weather window to open for our trip to the Galapagos Islands. With Chris, the highly regarded sailing meteorologist on board, we were fully informed as to when to leave and which course to steer.

Our intrepid Weatherman...out on a limb!

As Legend sailed out of Las Perlas and headed for the doldrums, I noticed a few members of the Oyster fleet hurriedly dropping everything to up anchor and follow in our footsteps knowing that we had inside information at hand...

PANAMA CANAL TRANSIT

One of the great advantages of joining a group of yachts on a Rally,  is the fact that a great deal of the paperwork is seen to by the rally organisers. Debbie and Eddie are  the invaluable Oyster dream team that keep the rally running smoothly.

Oysters rafting up in Gatun Lock

They ensure that a great deal of annoying bureaucracy is avoided by the individual boats...(they have yet to arrange a Pacific coffee drop for the Nespreso machines on the boats though!)

This backup was particularly invaluable in the organisation of our Panama Canal transit. Normally, the transit involves visits to office after office of disinterested Spanish officials and/or big bucks paid to an agent..all very time consuming and frustrating.

Not so for the Oyster fleet I am pleased to report. We gaily consumed canapes and cocktails in Shelter Bay and waited for Debbie  and Eddie to give us an appointed day and time to head out and do battle with the locks en route to the Pacific Ocean.

On Tuesday 19th Feb at 12pm, Legend was given the go ahead to proceed to the Canal zone for our transit.

The Canal transit authorities require  each yacht going through the Canal to have on board one of their appointed advisers, in addition to a skipper and 4 line handlers.

On board Legend IV were Alan and I, Chris and Helen and Dylan and Sally. Dylan's Dad, Dave, line handled for us on Legend 1when we went through Panama  in 1987. At the time Dylan was 5 years old and was sailing around the world with his parents on their yacht ,Nyati. Today Dylan is sailing around the world on his own boat, Orion, along with his fiance, Sally. Wonderful to have them on board for another round of deja vu!

Sally, Dylan, Skipper and Admiral heading for the Pacific Ocean..Bridge of the Americas in the background.

The Canal trip takes 2 days. On the first day you "lock up" from sea level through 2 enormous locks and spend the night at anchor in Gatun Lake, a freshwater lake which is reported to be inhabited by man eating crocodiles. We resisted the temptation of a freshwater swim this time but on our previous trip no one had mentioned the crocodiles and I seem to remember games of water polo being played in the lake. Heaven knows where the crocs were in the olden days or are we all just getting old and soft?

Dylan and Sally in an idle moment while locks close behind us.

Early the following morning, we "locked down" back to sea level through another 2 locks and entered the Pacific Ocean..a big milestone on our trip.

Once the boat was settled at anchor, we spent several days frantically shopping in Panama City. There will be very little decent shopping for provisions between here and possibly Australia in July. Legend 1V is loaded with to the gunwales with food and drink and hopefully we will survive the epic adventure ahead.

Sloth in Marina at Panama City!

Note to anyone who may be worried about me...there is plenty of Bombay on board! Bit of a blow that low cal tonic is no where to be found...perhaps Debbie and Eddie can help!

Panama City from the Anchorage

Shelter Bay Marina, Atlantic Coast of Panama

After almost 2 weeks in Paradise, we bid a sad goodbye to the San Blas...somehow I don't think it will be the same when or if  we ever get back here again..the charming culture of the Kuna Indians is slipping from their grasp and global warming is causing many of the tiny islands to simply disappear from the charts.

Kuna children entertaining the lady with the candy!

We headed to the big smoke of Panama where we joined up with the rest of the Oyster fleet at a marina in Shelter bay.

The marina is relatively isolated from the city of Colon and the Marina restaurant was the only place for the boat crews to eat and drink. A great time was had by all and the fleet is getting to know each other really well.

Too well in some instances! Several home truths were shared at the bottom of dozens of bottles of wine and rum  and some people have gone home! However, what goes on on the rally stays on the rally!

The forest surrounding the Marina is inhabited by Howler and Cappuchin monkeys and the noise of the Howlers at dusk and dawn was matched only by the revelry of the Oyster youngsters at a 2am pool party and the drunken sailors at the pirate party at Fort San Lorenzo.

Blood thirsty? or just thirsty?

Really blood thirsty!

Oyster treated the fleet to a lavish lunch at the old Spanish fort which was overcome by Henry Morgan and his blood thirsty band of real pirates in the days when the Spanish were plundering  South American gold. Entertainment was provided by Voodoo dancers and the previously mentioned Oyster revellers.

Oyster revellers or voodoo dancers?

While we were in the Marina we hauled the boat out of the water and had the bottom cleaned and antifouled...For the benefit of the uninitiated, a boat needs to paint its under water bits with toxic chemicals regularly to keep weed and barnacles from growing. These unwanted passengers slow the boat down and heaven forbid this should happen to any competitive skipper!

The main advantage for the skipper's  wife is that she got to spend 2 nights in a hotel while the weeds and barnacles were being nuked. All very civilised ..not for the barnacles of course!

Ready to face the Pacific Ocean...clean bottom.

San Blas Islands, Panama Coast

From Santa Marta, we headed for the San Blas Islands. The trip was rough and there were several more unladylike epithets hurled at the universe but the destination was worth the journey.

View through my porthole

There are hundreds of islands in the San Blas group, each more picturesque than the last.They are inhabited by the Kuna Indians who have attempted to preserve their culture against the tide of civilisation and when we were last there in 1987, they were pretty much succeeding.

Kuna Indian lady Circa 2013

Today the Kunas are far more streetwise and the mighty dollar is starting to feature strongly in their ethos. They now charge yachts a fee to anchor off their idyllic islands and sometimes, another fee to come ashore. In the more inhabited atolls, we were regularly visited by Kunas in dugout canoes offering seafood or molas for sale.

The seafood was eagerly purchased....enormous crayfish and spiny crab were frequently on the menu on Legend IV. The moray eels were politely declined.

Slumming it in San Blas

In spite of his best efforts, the crayfish was not caught by the skipper himself..

The molas are colourful, reverse applique embroidery pieces which are traditional items of clothing for the Kuna women. On our previous trip I purchased a mola blouse directly off the washing line of the woman who had made it!

but he did a great job of cooking it!

The blouse was unpicked and framed and is still on our wall at home today. I bought a few more on this trip to add to the collection but the Indians have learnt that the tourists will pay big bucks for their handicrafts and they no longer blow in the island breezes  on washing lines.

Nellie choosing Molas from travelling sales ladies

Life's a beach...had to say it sometime!

In spite of the advent of commercialism in the San Blas, the islands are still very special. The snorkeling was excellent..lots of rays and barracudas and some spectacular live coral gardens. We spent most of our time in the outer islands where there are fewer yachts and fewer persistent Indians.

Sailing...hi tech and lo tech

The advent of the internet has ensured that spots where there is no signal are avoided by many boats, leaving the more beautiful and unspoilt anchorages without internet to those of us who are not quite slaves to Microsoft or Apple ..or blogspot!

Santa Marta Columbia

Places to come back to or to recommend.....put Columbia on the list!

Santa Marta was a complete surprise...as we blasted into the bay in 40 knots of wind after 3 days at sea, my first thought was "Perhaps we should just keep moving!"

However, the opportunity to step on Terra firma for a day or two outweighed the unappealing sight of the coal dumps guarding the harbour mouth and the untidy beach we could see through the binocs.


Al and I first came past the Colombian coast on the first Legend 25 years ago. Drug running and piracy were a big problem at the time and yachts gave the  area a very wide berth..it was the Somalia of the time.

We had hoped to slip by without drawing attention to ourselves and were dismayed to spot a menacing warship on our bow early on the morning of our 4th day at sea.

It turned out to be a US coast guard vessel heavily armed and hailing us on the radio. We tentatively answered them and when they asked us were we were headed and how much money we had on board, we foolishly answered, "Cape Town and $5000.00."

They must have been quite convinced that we would never make it home on that amount of money and the only way we could be supporting ourselves was by nefarious means.

They immediately launched a rib and boarded us in rough seas, searched the boat and frightened the wits out of us.

Skipper in his son's Espadrilles..ready to Samba!

The search of course revealed only the declared amount of cash and our determination to make it home before it ran out. They politely left, thanking us for avoiding an "international diplomatic incident", and returned to their gunboat shaking their heads at our foolhardiness.

On this less eventful trip, we enjoyed great restaurants, excellent supermarkets and shopping and a comfortable, reasonably priced marina.

Perhaps we were particularly lucky because the town was vibrant and full of energy.We were in the city just before carnival and the squares and plazas were alive with huge groups of beautiful youngsters practising their Samba routines.

Street food!

Carthegena would also have been worth a visit, but we were in a hurry to spend more time  in the San Blas islands before our date with the Panama Canal transit authorities. Perhaps better to fly in and explore the whole area at a later date.

Vibrant street..great shopping..hats and shoes and handbags..crew in her element

All great fun and worth waiting 25 years to get here without having to dodge gunboats and drug runners!

Whine and Roses

We are under way to Santa Marta in Columbia and have been at sea for 3 days. The weather is ghastly and the seas are enormous.

For the first time this morning I wondered to myself "What on earth am I doing here!" In fact the language was a little more graphic but, however impolitely it was expressed, the emotion  came from deep within my pampered soul.

The reason for this unladylike sentiment was the 6am wake up call to stand my watch. This may not sound too onerous and I am sure that some eyeballs are rolling; but you had to be there to appreciate my reluctance to rise at what may seem to be a reasonable hour.

Al and I had gone to bed only a few hours earlier leaving Chris and Helen on watch. We have slept in our clothes which are damp from the earlier evening dew...the boat heels and rocks and rolls, as it has done for the past 3 days so sleep is difficult unless you tuck yourself into some tight corner.

To make matters worse and to eliminate any remaining chances of a little much needed rest, pots and pans, cutlery, empty gin bottles, anything that isn't tied down or  wedged in, bangs and crashes mercilessly no matter how determinedly I attempt to track  down the culprits  in order to stop the racket.

The good days outnumber the bad

As I get out of bed , I trip over the  laundry bag. It has grown too big to fit in its customary slot. Most of the laundry in the bag is damp and mouldy and need I add slightly rank?

On this point, and mainly for the information of those of you who may be thinking that my housekeeping standards are not up to scratch; the washing machine on board can't face the task of handling the job required of it in a rough sea. In addition, the rudeness of the Bonaire immigration lady put paid to having it done there as had been planned. This is just a temporary aberration so no need to judge!

I shrug on my life jacket and harness..it cuts into my collar bone...and heave myself upstairs to face a pitch black morning with the lights of fishing boats and tankers cluttering the horizon.

The tankers are no problem..they have AIS which tells us where they are headed and with a little luck, we can work out if we are on a collision course and get out of the way if necessary. The task of avoiding being run over by a massive ship has the advantage of  keeping you from falling asleep on watch!

The fishing boats are however  a different kettle ....shocking pun... only one of the boats had a light and the rest of the fleet showed on the radar but were invisible to the cursing watch woman on Legend IV.

We changed course to avoid them but the palaver of gybing a boat with a downward rig  in the dark when you have just woken up beats anything that I have ever faced in suburbia.

Things got better as the sun came up and it wasn't long before I was back to counting my blessings. And then when Al announced that "with all this rocking and rolling, it  looks like you have lost weight" ,  I knew that none of the discomfort had been in vain.

Anyone who has ever asked me for a favour or a loan knows that this is a sure fire way to guarantee a positive response. So all is forgiven, Legend IV.

Colour co-ordinated G and T