Sixty knot winds and plenty of Caviar

"Thats fish'n" as they say. What it means is, once you think you've seen it all, the elements conspire a curve. Tokiak herring is a highschool reunion for me. I get to see my childhood friends and catch up on all thier crazy stories from the year gone by. As the ice peeled away from one of the worst winters in twenty years, the Hearring made their anual pilgramage to the Northern Coast of Bristol Bay Alaska, where we lay there waiting. The fleet sat for two weeks before a single fish was spotted. Japanese freighters lined up on anchor, three dozen off season Berring Sea crab boats, thirty commercial fishing boats, and six bush planes, were coiled as thousands of tons of fish finally boiled into the bays.
With spotter planes swarming the airspace pointing out schools the fleet pulsed and sampled for three days untill the female roe sacks were ripe enough to catch.
If you can imagine the nerves of those who have invested millions to facilitate the fishery. Some companies were soo eager and had been sitting soo long that they wrecklessly bought imature fish.

We on the other hand waited it out. We waited, waited and when the fish finnaly rippened up, a steady breeze of sixty knots with gusts to eighty sat on us for three days. And at that point we regretted waiting. The shallow boats scurried up shallow bays grounded thier hulls and tied them selves to shore. The Crab boats, from Discovery channels Deadliest catch, were forced to weather it. Several boats broke their anchors and simply had to drive around in the wind untill the storm past. When the system let up the water was terribly churned up and the fish were no longer visible to the pilots. For the next couple of days the entire fleet drove around aimlessly trying to land dirrectly over a school of fish, recognize it on the depth sounder with out scaring them away, turning around and setting around it with their net.
The fish must be caught right at the moment they are ready to spawn, not before or after.A fish can go from green to ripe to fully spawned out in a matter of hours. The fish carcass is worthless. Its the golden herring eggs that rippen to an apetizing state, that are then used soley in one specific Japanese ritual. The whole show is for a little sack of eggs that sit on a fancy plate and the novalty Custom for the Japanese is even going out of style. Soon enough it will be all for not. One ton Herring fetches around 100 bucks.

In this senario there are so many fish that acre wide patches of water take on a velvit shine like the fish. A lone fishing hook pulled through the water will snag a fish, and we repeatedly used this method to sample the maturity of the fish.
We scratched around making little sets slowly filling our tenders,with good fish and got the wheels turning in the processing lines. Soon they would clog up as well and we would have to stand down while more fish slipped by. The stress built along with the frustration. The entire spawining activity lasts ten days and we had caught very little fish. Very little means around 2000 tons. The days slipped by with beach combing, campfires and card games but the stress and cabin fever continued to build. Caviar hung on every fathom of our net, globs pilled on the rails and deck, little eggs glazed our rain gear and stuck in our hair. We were smothered in it, but at the same time not getting any.

As the season closure loomed over our heads we snuck in another thousand tons. All of the sudden it was over, and we fled to our respective callings. Furtunitly the forces of supply and demand take effect and when you catch half as much you sell it for twice as much and some how it all turns out the same. And thats fishin.

The fun stuff

Glory left her life in Boulder to sail the high seas only to find us in St. Thomas with day jobs, shore power and dock lines made fast. For Derek and I after six months on the water the list of chores, the list of options, and the lack of money weakened our defense to a payed stint of land life with free cars, hot showers and great people.

So for the past month Glory, Travelin D and I have acted as Eco-tour guides by day in a beautiful Mangrove preserve, and dock security/ bug killers by night. On our off days from Kayak tours we rebuilt and repainted the marina, restructured the rain cistern and sold a dighy for a profit. All the while wondering how we ever landed in St. Thomas.
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Glory has brought life and pride back into the boat. She sewed new cushion covers with our miniature sewing machine, layed carpet in the rough looking corners, sanded the unfinished teak bungs and oiled the insides. Its amazing how new energy can call one to action. Four months ago we broke the step that leads one in and out of the galley. For four months escaping the galley was a full body leap up to the counter and a 42 inch drop to get back in. While Glory was buzzing away on her projects I took a look at that list that had paralyzed me for so long. It took me all of six minutes to rebuild the step that for so long I was un able to fix.
Next a new solar panel mount was fabricated with a piece of stainless rod that Jon and I pirated off a sunken boat one year ago in Great Inagua. Our mast head chain plate that had sheared on both sides was re-welded, the decks re-painted, the rails cetoled, and some of the long awaited cabinetry finished off.
Another example of boat burnout overcome was our ever present fuel problem. Back in the Bahamas and again in the Turks and Caicos we thought we were out of fuel. The comradery of other cruisers kept us moving with fresh fuel and council as we sputtered and stalled in every precarious spot. All the way to St. Thomas one of us would steer and the other would hand prime fuel to the engine. With earmuffs and a sweat rag one would hang over the engine acting as a four dollar fuel pump restoring the engine to a roar as it choked through dirty fuel. At the time it was all we could do to keep things going, but as it turns out diesel grows and tanks must be completely flushed out. So weeks of hand priming and a life time supply of costly filters was then made redundant by a twenty minute flush and scrub of the fuel tank.
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So now the with coolant flushed, transmission oil changed, new motor mounts, engine oil changed, tank polished, racor scrubbed, new fresh water pumps installed, sea strainer and bilge cleaned I am on top of the list. Hows this one for ya, the heat exchanger zincs are new and ready to cross the Atlantic.
Burn out is one thing, but boat projects are complicated by the fact that everything takes longer than you think, you never have all the right parts, you want to do it right. Needing to live, cook, be a nice person and sleep in that project area which is constant motion is a challenge. Paints take days to dry, glues kick off fumes, rain always comes when you need it the least and that part you need is ALWAYS right underneath the foot or seat of the other person on the boat, but most of all you have to sail when its time and that usually means breaking away before your done. So why start?, it only makes it hard to sail on, or does it make it easier to sail, I don't know.

Today the crew of Ultima Noche are in their respective states. Glory back in Colorado, Derek in an airplane somewhere and me on my way to Alaska to "work just for a couple of weeks". By the end of May we hope to be crossing the North Atlantic for the Med.

Rolex Regatta

hehe, we made our way into the Rolex Regatta.... It all started out with skipping a day of work, then hitch hiking down to the yacht club and laying on our charm.


Right off the bat, we found one spot on a beach cat. A beach cat is a small and fast two person catamaran. The seas were choppy and the wind blowing twenty knots. I geared up without a clue of what was in store.
















This is what its supposed to look like:

This is more like what I was doing:

My job was to run the jib, the spinnaker, and the down haul, while using my body mass to balance the boat and counter its heal. This means I clip my harness into one of the side stays and hang off the side with sheets in hand. In big swells and heavy winds in a race it means getting bashed into waves, tossed around and yelled at like a gumby for the duration. I was literally getting pummeled and knocked off my feet by the waves, and correspondingly yelled at. I was secretly relieved when we broke our jib roller and had to turn back after an hour. Due to the conditions all the other beach cats capsized and some completely turltled, meaning they were upside down in the water and required tow assistance in.


Day Two of the Regatta, we sold our selves as spinnaker men and we landed on a 52ft sloop. In the interview the captain asked us if we knew spinnakers, and technically we did since we had flow ours that one time in the Bahamas. haha This is a picture of us under spinnaker. It totaly looks like we are winning. I'm up on the bow and Derek is in the cockpit
running the lines.

The skipper was laid back and the crew fun and casual. We filled in the gaps and worked our young backs into knots grinding the winches as we tacked up wind race after race. We finished dead last in four races, but enjoyed every minute of it. The other boats in the regatta were well funded with racing sails and matching t-shirts, while we were sporting old cruising sails and hauling eight peoples vacation luggage from point to point. We danced the night away at the race party and blended in with the other racers.

Day three the crew came together as a team. Bow team and cockpit team. Our execution seemed flawless compared to the day before, but we were still in above our heads. After completing half the course, the entire fleet had finished and the committee requested that we accept our place and quit so they could collect the race marker buoys. :) We had a great time and saw our improvement, and from this who would know that we finished last.




I still think this is the most beautifull boat out there.

Derek and I got some more experience and hope that we can pick up the pace as we set off for longer distances across the Atlantic in our own boat. haha

Getting to it in St. Thomas

Our current project is the Special Olympics here in the USVirgin Islands. Sybille is the head of the local chapter and we are raising funds and support for the up coming events. Stay tuned as we will be holding a Regatta and bowling turnament for the special talent here in the USVI.

Rags to Riches

Where do I begin. Its been an adventure. Our car got robbed in San Juan, it cost us $3,500 bucks, then we hopped the wrong ferry and landed in the arms of strangers who took us in with cold beers, our first hot shower in months and a bed with sheets. We danced the nights away in the streets at the Culebra Regatta. Sailed in the lee of the Virgin Islands during the largest waves this region has seen in years. Met wonderful people, landed a free dock for a few months, and have been escorted first class around these Islands by the great hearted wealthy community here. And to top it off we are gainfully employed now as eco-tour kayak guides in a beautiful protected lagoon here in St. Thomas.

The stories between here and there would clog up my inspiration from what has happened to us most recently, so I’ll just skip to now.
We left Culebra, a beautiful Island off the coast of Puerto Rico, full of locals and endless trails to explore for the big city lights of St. Thomas. A large Atlantic Cold front was came with mountainous waves and we didn’t want to get stuck so we pressed our luck against time in our little boat in the lee of the Spanish/ US virgin Islands. We made it to the big ship harbor of Charlotte Amale in St. Thomas. With out a clue of what to do, we hitched a $2 ride on a public “Safari” which is a truck with bench seats in the back which circumnavigates the island. We got off at the first hardware store and that is where our good fortune began.
Inside we met young Sybille, the owner of the USVI Eco-Tour company. She was looking for someone to splice rope, and I was looking for work. We carried on with her to her business, then to lunch at the yacht club, and on it went. We needed her, and she needed us. She owned a marina that needed more human presence for security and we needed a dock. We moved Noche to the dock and planned to head out to the British Virgin Islands for a full moon party. She was going already and knew everyone in the Islands we needed to meet. She offered to take us, “her treat”. So off we went.

We were hosted for the weekend in a beautiful marble home with cushy couches, fountains and open airways. We were treated as kings and shown the highlights of a beautiful Island by wonderfully generous people. Our host was AJ Sanger the renowned Chef / understudy of Wolfgang-Puck and the financier of the replica tall ship the Nina. Remember that boat Columbus discovered the new world with? AJ was a hoot, sharp as a tack and full of personality. She showed us how to cook an Omelet, the way a great Chef would. Lots of technique, great ingredients, high heat and eggs have never tasted so good, sorry Mom. :) Sybille, and AJ lead us around introducing us to numerous people, showing us the top restaurants, undiscovered beaches, and mountain hikes.
The highlight for me was Sybille dancing on Stage at the full moon party, champagne everyday and getting to Captain a Forty Seven foot Catamaran for the former BVI Chancellors family,
out to an Island for an afternoon of great food, and snorkeling in sea caves after Captaining a 47’ Catamaran.
Also I got to Captain a forty seven foot Catamaran. :)
This weekend was such a blessing and beyond our wildest dreams. Let this blog entry be a thank you letter to all those who’s generosity continues to inspire us to do good to others in this journey around the world by sea.

Luck lands on us by day out here. A friend of a sailing friend offered us a house on the beach and a convertible for four days in the old city of San Juan. Hastily leaving the boat we set out from the southern coast on the highway with our thumbs out and some snacks in the packs.
Getting a ride requires all your wits when you look like you haven’t showered in a week and there are two of you. We pulled all kinds of stunts to build our value, including clever bi-lingual signs with dollar bills and the age old rolled up pant leg displaying a bare leg to on-comming car followed by a giggling smile. Being a guy the leg thing draws a laugh and shortly we landed a ride from a fantastic guy in a nice car. He drove us all the way across Puerto Rico. We stop along the way to service some errands, and all the while became great friends.
Hitch hiking is a great way to get around down here. We have met half a dozen great people who end up touring us around for a while before they drop us off. We love it because its always different, the price is right, and we wouldnt know were to go if we had to drive our selves.
So then in San Juan our new besti Kim arrived with a car and keys to her place. She took us to old San Juan and offered to show us inside the Coast Guard command center. We’ll that’s a boys dream to see a top secret war center. So we jump on it. We show our id’s and surrendered all electronic devices, as we passed through one guard then a coded security door, long hallway, then another coded door where we called into the center and gave notice that civilians were entering the facility. Minutes passed and clearance was granted to enter. Inside the hum of at least thirty flat screen monitors and a large wall screen tv with world news channels were playing. The walls were lined with large maps of the local area, with fridge magnets of boats, displaying the locations of vessels around Puerto Rico. The room was divided by a glass wall with blinds drawn on the other side.
The entire wall was covered to protect us because if we were to see what lies beyond the curtain it would compromise national security and we would surely been sent to the morg. Inside that top secrete room all radio transmissions are recorded and monitored. My suspicions recall the Wizard of OZ, and a game of Texas hold’em. That perception of intelligence, and technical advantage works as a more powerful deterrent than all the technology in the world. That room could have been filled with old dusty files and a jury rigged VHF in front of a nineteen year old recruit with a pencil and paper for all we know. Regardless the perception remains of some incredible technology existing behind that wall and we will go on from that experience ready to fold, rather than gearing up to call the bluff. So that was a boys dream come true, and to revisit that boyish top secret fantasy world was a cool moment.
We were flying high as we returned to the civilians walking the cobble stone streets of Old San Juan. We found the pathway that strolls along the ocean and lines the steep Spanish fortress walls. It started out as the usual story, romantic lit streets with live music in the air set amongst beautiful walls bearing tremendous history and charm. What unfolded was a wild phenomena of feline behavior. A colony of domesticated cats had squatted along this pathway. For hundreds of yards healthy looking kitties roamed, lounged, cleaned, and slept amongst the rocks and foliage that lay on either side of the path. They peered at us from the rocks and from the bushes, they ignored us and they snuck across our path as we traversed their domain. They did as cats do, they were normal, but wait, this wasn’t normal. How strange and distracting it was to have this city of kitties stretch the length of this magnificent display of old world masonry. How cool it was, life is so full of surprises.

Speaking of pleasant surprises, after the fort we then went to a house party with some fellow Americans at a high rise flat set right on the beach. The host was a twenty four year old yank who put 25 cents in a slot machine back in Vegas and won two million dollars. What a stroy the people you meet out here make the places. We were introduced to beer pong on the beach and listened tales from Senor Frogs till we grew tired and retired.

Crossing the Mona

Dominican softball will carry on without us, but it will not be the same sin crew from "Ultima Noche". We made great friends and built quite the commmunity in a short period of time there in the DR, but the tradewinds died down for us and it was time to cut loose. The furry set in and we made the mad dash to Puerto Rico with twelve other boats. Traveling east in the tradewinds means motor sailing tight along the coast when the cooing air on land rushes back out to sea canceling the incoming winds forming a night lee. Columbus took advantage of this effect by rowing east by night and anchoring through the day. Sunrise after sunset we snuck along the coast. The weather window was short, and the pressure to stay in the comfort of the group was intense. We were all crossing into new territory and none the less the passage has a rough reputaion. Being small and slow we lead the pack off the line in order to stay with the group. Our friend Christa left his anchor and two hundred and twenty five feet of chain because it was hung up on a coral head and the prospect of falling behind and gettting left on the North coast when the weather picks was worse than replacing $1500 of ground tackle. All in all we had sunny days undersail filled with cardgames and watermelon, and the ocasional mecanical problems, but nothing tragic. Sailing around the world, is more or less getting as ready as you possibly can, then setting of when its time with tiller in one hand and wrench in the other.


Humpback whales escourted us along the way, and as we pointed due east just north of the hourglass shoals I saw a whale as big as our boat jump completely out of the water and hang in the air. It was one of those moments where staring off into the sea payed off. The experience was thrilling, and it wasn't far from the boat. The memory will remain and forever testify for me that some of the most amaizing life and natural phenomina happen in that vast and seeemingly void expanse we call the sea. I have spent days on end watching it, and I still see new phenomina after years on the water.
We slipped into Puerto Rico at 3 AM under a cloudy sky illuminted by the industrial lights of Mayaguez. Two boats abondoned the passage due to fatigue and two pulled in behind us. Overall we finished seventh. The race wasn't official, in fact no one else knew about it, but amongst the bigger boats we tend to place better when the race goes on un-announced.:)

Waterfalling

If you were wondering what projects the Peace Corps are resposible for here in the DR, here is an example: Adventure waterfalling!! If you havent heard of it before, it involves a helmet, life jacket, sturdy shoes and two able bodied guides. The idea is that water runs down hill over cliffs and occasionaly carves out narrow slot canyons. The game is to traverse up these features against the water, then to get back you cliff jump into these water holes and slot canyons. Its slick, the rock is hard and the water is powerfull. The rainforrest backdrop and the teal colored water makes the entire experience complete. Its ten bucks and there are 27 waterfalls.