166. Ile A Vache

Storm clouds over Haiti

It was an exhausting sail to Ile a Vaches, beating against the wind and waves, and the worst – current. I suffered more damage: my main sail ripped again – the same spot as last time; and my mast winch broke. I will have to fix that before I leave Ile a Vaches, or else I’ll have to hoist sail using a winch in the cockpit.

Dodging rain

The best way I’ve found to go east is to motor sail at night, using the katabatic winds coming off the land. Eventually (24 hours to do 66 miles), I managed to anchor in Baie a Feret. It’s an old pirate base, Henry Morgan used to stay here. Overlooking the bay is Port Morgan Hotel.

Port Morgan Hotel

Port Morgan Hotel was an absolute oasis; very laid back, lovely pool, horses (not cows) roamed around the beautiful gardens. I went for breakfast – eggs, toast, pancakes, juice, coffee, and some free Wi-Fi.

www.port-morgan.com

Port Morgan Hotel pool

I met the owner, the lady who opened the hotel in the 1980s. It was fun to listen to all her stories, of how she and her husband sailed across the Atlantic with no GPS, came to Haiti and built the hotel. And tales of hurricane Mathew, which sat on Ile a Vaches for days. They also gave me some bread, eggs and drinking water (I was very low on supplies) for my onward journey.

Sonic Boom anchored in Baie a Feret, Ile a Vaches

165. Haiti

I cleared out with Jamaican customs and immigration. Again. That’s the fifth time I think. In Port Antonio they are a bit more reasonable. In Montego Bay, the lady seemed a bit annoyed that I ‘seem to just pop up whenever I feel like it’ and expect customs and immigration to be here waiting.

Restocked, refueled and refreshed I sailed out of Port Antonio and out to sea early Friday morning. Almost straight away I was headed for a rainstorm, so I reefed in and sailed through it. For the rest of the passage I managed to avoid three more huge storms, sailed through the night, all the next day and made it to within sight of Haiti Saturday evening.

Anse D'Hainault, Haiti

Before I saw anything I could smell the island – burning wood, cooking maybe. The wind died and I motored the last ten miles. Then I saw a little cluster of plastic bottles glide past my hull – fishing lines and lobster pots. They were everywhere, and almost immediately I heard a horrible clanking juddering from my engine. I shut it off, and saw a couple of small water bottles and some string disappear off my stern. Couldn’t go forward, tried reverse, nothing. Stuck until morning I thought. I tried again and got going. For five minutes, then exactly the same crunching – more fishing lines. I was trying to spot them but seeing a very small clear plastic bottle on a moonless night was nearly impossible. This time I got in and cut the lines free.

I anchored off Anse D’Hainault, which looked fairly poverty stricken – children without clothes on bits of wood and dugout canoes came to ask me for money, food, anything. I saw no engines, just lots of little sailboats. Seems like a step back in time, or vision of the future…

The next morning I freed up my prop, and headed off to Ile a Vache.