Marie
“During 2023 my priority was my health. You get things into more perspective when you’re suddenly faced with a dead stop in life. I was so lucky to learn I was not facing cancer as I was first diagnosed, my issue was a rare complaint that emulates cancer but is eminently treatable. Now I knew I could get through this, though it would take time with treatment that was nowhere near as severe. Even so, it affected our sailing plans because it meant me being back in the UK in the hands of the oncologists of the NHS. Time was a jewel to me nevertheless, I decided to get on with things as best we could… and in the circumstances everything began to work out.”
For all manner of reasons we were not gonna get far in 2023. Having left Sänna in Aruba over Christmas and New Year to travel back to England we returned in early January to find the boat in reasonably good condition in the Varadero Marina – a mainly sports fishing boat harbour with few sail boats berthed there. Aruba was nice enough, the capital Oranjestad a typical colonial Dutch town with a heavy dose of Disney added for the relentless cruise ship visitors who drench the place every single day. Aruba is a relatively small island – with up to three cruise ships per day offloading maybe eight to ten thousand tourists then things rapidly deteriorate into a tourism farce, the row after row of cheap trinket stores, designer label shops and expensive jewellery outlets defies logic. But after these super-dreadnought hotel hell-ships leave then Oranjestad returns to a semblance of normality and is quite nice. Aruba’s beaches are what draws normal sane tourists to the island, the ones who can at least walk on their own two feet – and Aruba’s west coast beaches are spectacular.
The other big problem we had was actually getting away from Aruba. The easterly trade winds were by now relentless, there was no way we could contemplate even the seventy miles to the next island in the ABC chain, Curaçao. The three Dutch island of Aruba, Curaçao and Bonaire are collectively named the Nederland Antilles – or more commonly the ABC Islands. Located close to the Venezuelan coastline, the islands have historically enjoyed close trading relations with Venezuela including refining huge chunks of Venezuela’s oil. But sadly, the current mess that is Venezuela means that economic sanctions enacted by the United States dictates the oil trade has all but dried up, there is little trade interaction between the Dutch and their Venezuelan counterparts and tourism is being rapidly boosted to breach the economic gap – hence the complete madness that is three giant cruise ships each day. Oil or cruise ships polution – it’s difficult to pitch which is the worse of Aruba’s evils.
But, along with the relentless trade winds, our main concerns was Marie’s ongoing NHS treatment that needed frequent visits to her oncologist for what was turning out to be a lengthy recovery process. Without doubt Marie was fighting off everything her bastard infection could throw at her, I sincerely believe the organisms, viruses or whatever they are that have blighted Marie have bitten off more than they could chew when they spied Marie as their target, Marie’s fighting spirit so evident in our battles against a stormy sea, against big winds and anything else that could be thrown at us meant these little microscopic bits of evil stood little chance of winning against a formidable adversary. Slowly, with pain and heartache, Marie was winning her battle – but we needed to stay close to the wonderful institutional mega-giant that is England’s NHS (National Health Service).
Curacao
At last, having waited nearly six weeks in the shelter of the airport anchorage there was a lull in the easterly trades and we did the seventy mile overnight passage to Curacao. The ease of customs and immigration in Aruba was not matched in Curacao – we anchored up in the huge Spanish Waters anchorage before taking the local bus into Willemstad to get our entry formalities completed. Whereas in Aruba we got things done with all the departments in one building all within a one minute walk, here in Willemstad it was a long painful trek in the heat having alighted at the right stop from the bus. Customs was easy enough, they were super friendly and helpful but the route to immigration then the harbourmaster was a long drag. First we had to trek across Willemstad’s spectacular swing bridge then make our way into the main port. Immigration were the usual dour faces as they stamped our passports – and the harbourmaster, for some obscure reason, was closed. We would have to make the same journey once more the next day to get our anchor permits that are obligatory in Curacao. Then, a curious and bitter experience when we arrived back onboard Sänna still anchored in Spanish Waters.
When first anchoring after our arrival we had noticed a second sailboat following us in thru the narrow passage into Spanish Waters. Nothing strange in this but this boat then circled us while we anchored before itself anchoring rather too close to our starboard side. There were about seven guys with one female onboard – a big number for a forty-foot boat. When we arrived back on Sänna following our long day on the bus, our freshwater pump was running dry meaning our rear water tank must be empty – but we had completely filled the tank with our watermaker prior to entering the harbour. The pump was now burned out and, indeed, our rear water tank was empty. We later established that the entire crew of the French registered vessel had waited for us to leave, knowing that we needed to get ourselves into Willemstad for immigration and customs. They then used our our rear transom swim shower to each take a shower. We also later found out they were a Venezuelan crew – we learned this when a Curacao Coast Guard helicopter intercepted their vessel having left Spanish Waters without completing immigration procedures.
But the sorry episode didn’t end there. Without our freshwater pump we had no freshwater onboard. Also, the seawater in Spanish Harbour was not fit to put thru our watermaker so we had to refill our tank making four return journeys in the dinghy using five twenty-litre water containers we keep onboard for emergency transporting fresh water. This took nearly two hours to fill the tank, then we had to find a new pump. Luckily, Budget Marine have a store on the island, we could get one there tho the price was extortionate when compared to the cost of the same pump online, in the UK and in the US. We had no option, we bought the pump.
Livid, I dinghy’d across to the Venezuelans now knowing why we were out of water. Turns out there were eight onboard. I argued and made my point tho it was obvious I was wasting my time, they made out they spoke no English and denied stealing our water. By now I had it on good authority from several anchored boats who had watched the whole showering episode. What could I do? It’s only water said a couple on an anchored Dutch boat, I should give it freely. Yes, I would, but not every damn drop we’d got. Then there was the pump… that’s not their fault if we had a faulty pump said the same Dutch. I gave up. A French boat I spoke to said the same had happened to them in Bonaire – Venezuelans are illegally making their way to the ABC islands then trying to get US visas at the US embassy in Willemstad rather than make their was as refugees to the Mexican border.
April & Back to the UK
Clearly we would not get any further than Curacao before Marie’s next hospital appointment back in the UK. We decided to stay the summer in Curacao Marine Zone, we could haul the boat there knowing that Curacao is south of the established hurricane zone that blights the Caribbean. So, we made our way from Spanish Waters to the entrance of Willemstad Harbour and its unique swing-bridge. We called the harbourmaster on the VHF for permission to enter, then watched in wonderment as the floating bridge swings open by means of a motorised wheelhouse at one end. We realised that two cruise ships were moored on the cruise ship dock meaning that we provided a viewing spectacle for nearly eight-thousand tourist spectators both on the waterside and on the bridge itself courtesy of the closed gates either end of the bridge. We could see the flashes of hundreds of phone cameras until we were past the bridge into the main harbour.
We then passed under the main road bridge before reaching Curacao Marine – this excellent boatyard was to be our port for the few months although we ourselves would return home to the UK. Curacao Marine is a yachtsman’s paradise, many sailboats were hauled out in the boatyard with sailors of many nationalities congregating there – many had crossed the Atlantic from Europe intending to make their way the same way we had already come – Panama and the Canal, Colombia, the San Blas Islands and all the way across the Pacific thru Polynesia, New Zealand and Australia. We were able to pass on valuable information, making new friends in the process during the many BBQ nights in the communal recreation area provided by the boatyard. We had a wonderful time there.
England
Once back in England it was a case of more hospital appointments for Marie and, for me, sorting out my late mother’s estate. My step-brother and my brother (both called Gary) were my mother’s estate executors so my role was quite easy, even so we had a tough time resolving everything. My mother’s house eventually sold so finalising the financial side of things took time. In between I frequented the horse-racing track in Nottingham, which I love, with many summer evenings going to Trent Bridge to watch the cricket – my favourite sport. In the July I took a week out to make the ninety-mile trek on foot from Bowness-in-Solway in Cumbria to Wallsend on the mouth of the River Tyne following the two-thousand year Roman ruins of Hadrians Wall, much of which is still intact. This was a memorable adventure for me on my own – Marie had taken herself off to Georgia with her son Henry. While they were gone I had a treasure time.
Our other pastime, which both Marie and I love, is music festivals. In May we camped at the four-day Bearded Theory festival held at Catton Hall, in June the Beardy Folk Festival held in the Hopton Court Estate in beautiful Shropshire and then in August, our favourite, the Wickham Folk Festival in Hampshire – the rendition of ‘Maggie May’ by Rod Stewart’s Faces band was forever memorable. In the August something special – I took my eight year old grandson Dylan and his good friend Ruairi (who happens to also be our next door neighbour) to our holiday cottage in Norfolk. We had a marvellous time there, great sunshine weather on the beach except for me having to continually drag them out of the sea. That evening, I sat them both down and we watched the movie ‘Jaws’ – the next day I had no trouble keeping them out of the sea.
At the end of September I returned to Curacao, Marie having further hospital treatment arranged while I readied Sänna to be launched from the yard. There were thru-hull fittings to be changed, especially the leaking seawater cooling intake for the engine. More importantly, Sänna’s hull needed extensive antifouling work to remove the substandard bottom paints applied back in Panama and Colombia. This was gruelling work, in the event the late summer temperatures and humidity were excessive, my attempts to stay onboard overnight in the boatyard caused me near heat exhaustion. To remedy this, I hired a wreck of a car for only three hundred quid a month and found a more than satisfactory Airb&b with its own swim pool, air conditioning and en-suite showers. This was particularly welcome during the late afternoon rain storms when otherwise I would have been holed up in Sänna with all the hatches closed dying of heat.
Two weeks later the yard launched Sänna, we were tied up in the marina area in more windy slip that cooled things enormously. Marie joined me and we slipped out of the yard to the Spanish Waters anchorage. Here we had a restful few weeks until early December, we made no plans to leave Curacao just yet, the easterly trade winds were relentless and we planned to return to the UK for Christmas. We again tied Sänna up in Curacao Marine Zone. First and foremost we had a longstanding appointment at the US Embassy in London to renew our expired US B1/B2 visas which had expired the previous March.
Our longer term plan was to leave Curacao heading north across the trade winds to the Dominican Republic. From here we could more easily head eastwards to Puerto Rico and the US Virgin Islands, these all being US territory and for this we needed our US visas. Not until these were granted could we contemplate leaving Curacao, so our plan was made to return to Curacao in early January when Sänna would be ready waiting. Apologies, this is just a short update for 2023, with events taking place back in England it’s difficult to expand on things not related to our day-to-day sailing life – undoubtedly we are beginning to put down landlubber roots.
Our 2024 plan was made, little did we know at the time but more heartache and drama was waiting for us in the new year…
Dave – April 2024.
For further details of our Norfolk Holiday Rental Cottage, please see Henry’s Cottage for full description and availability.
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