46. Sonic Boom's Christmas Special Part 2 Los Roques

Los Roques is an amazing place. A huge ring of reef, miles across, creates a massive lagoon, in which there are dozens of tiny islands, and more rings of reef making more smaller lagoons. The wind is still strong, but the sea is calm, sheltered by the outer reef – perfect for sailing. The water is such a bright turquoise that it can turn the clouds green, which I actually saw happen as I sailed past Aves; very beautiful.

Los Roques

From La Blanquilla it was another overnight sail to Los Roques, about 120 miles. The wind was very light so again it took longer than expected to get there. I was approaching the northern entrance through the outer reef at about 4pm. Really too late to get to Sarqui, but I didn’t want to spend a night hove-to so I decided to chance it and head in anyway. The light was fading, and a rainstorm was approaching, which was making it difficult to see the bottom, and my depth gauge (a crucial instrument in Los Roques) wasn’t working. I wasn’t having much luck.

I decided to change plan and head down the North East channel and round into Francisquis lagoon, the nearest one. I kept my jib out until the last minute because I was running out of time, but when I did try to roll it up, it wouldn’t move.  My furling line was tangled in the furlex, and the wind was picking up.

I turned into the lagoon too early and bumped coral, and then the boat jolted to a sudden halt. Crap. Quickly I reversed and pulled back, phew, but then hit coral with my rudder. Pinball. Then Pedro and Enrique appeared in their dinghy. They’d seen me from their boat – probably thinking ‘who’s this idiot coming in under sail.’

‘Put down sail, eez good idea, no? ‘ they asked. 

They helped me navigate into the lagoon and I dropped anchor at 5.45, just as the sun was setting. I immediately tried to get my jib down.

Francisquis

I’d wrapped the jib around itself to stop it flapping, but the wind was really picking up and the stress on the sail meant I couldn’t get it down. Then Pedro and Enrique appeared in their dinghy. Pedro came aboard; I explained the halyard goes up, sail comes down, and we went to the bow and pulled on the jib. It would not budge. Now it was dark and really blowing. So I gave up, tied up the jib as best I could and left it, still flapping a bit.

Going back to the cockpit I noticed that Enrique was in the dinghy clinging to a line…the jib halyard. ‘Oh Enrique, you can let go of that now, thanks.’ Pedro must have passed it to him and said if you let go the sail falls down. So we’d been playing tug of war with Enrique. I thought it would have been funny to have seen Enrique go flying up the mast as the jib came down, but as it was, it was just very frustrating. A stupid mistake, caused by exhaustion. I got up before dawn and pulled it down by myself, but by then the damage was done – rips and tares. I’m afraid this is going to be an expensive repair. For now though I would have to go to Bonaire under main only.

I spent a couple of days relaxing in the lagoon. I even managed to make friends with a captain, and he offered to winch me up the mast. So up I went, it took a while, and he was exhausted by the time a got to the top. By then I’d already realized I’d forgotten to release the clutch for the halyard, which therefore didn’t move when I grabbed it. There was just no way to explain to Carlos from the top of the mast, so I signaled and he winched me down. He was pissed off – I don’t think he thought it would be so hard. ‘Sorry Carlos, thank you so much. Here have a beer.’

The next day I waved back at a couple of Spanish cruisers. They later dinghied over and were very interested in where I’d been, and where I was going.  So we had a good chat, and they helped me go up the mast, again. I got the halyard, but I’m sure Carlos saw, and thinks I’m some kind of loony who goes round getting people to winch me up masts. Even though I’m singlehanded there are sometimes I absolutely need help. Luckily there’s usually been someone there to help. It’s always very touching; strangers willing to help each other, acts of human kindness.

El Gran Roque on the left

It was so beautiful I would love to spend a few weeks visiting all the lagoons, anchoring off my own tiny deserted islands. A real fantasy, but one that would be brought quickly back to reality with a visit from the coast guard, or running out of food and water. I decided to get going to Bonaire. So in the morning I set off early again, heading to Aves Barlovento for an overnight stop. Pedro had told me to avoid Aves Sotavento because there were coast guards there. I felt I was making good progress, just three more day sails to Curacao.