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. 

45. Sonic Boom's Christmas Special

The sail from Trinidad was a long one and full of adventure. Had lots of fun, but lots of damage also. Both my sails are ripped to pieces, and my new outboard – my pride and joy, my Johnson 5HP, now lies at the bottom of the ocean under 1000feet of water. I feel wiped out at the moment. It’s going to take me a while to tell the whole story, so in the meantime I just wanted to let everyone know I made it to Bonaire safely, Merry Christmas, and here’s part one:

Part 1

La Blanquilla

I left Trinidad early in the morning and was escorted past Scotland Bay by lots of very playful dolphins. They were jumping right out of the water (very difficult to photo though).

Dolphins off Scotland Bay

I sailed north to avoid pirates and was sailing fast. I was past Grenada by nightfall. Making good progress I turned east and sailed well through the night. The next day though the wind completely died and I wasn’t anywhere near Blanquilla by sunset.  On the second night feeling completely exhausted, I hove-to for a few hours and got some sleep.

I like heaving to; it’s a good way to stop the boat so you can make a cup of tea, but I don’t really like doing it at night, and trying to sleep while you’re bobbing around in the open ocean in the dark is difficult. In the morning as the sun was coming up, I set off again toward Blanquilla.

La Blanquilla is a really magical place. Firstly it was almost impossible to see, invisible until you get right up to it. I thought I was going crazy, looking at my charts and my GPS, but still not seeing anything. Then from a mile or so I could see what looked like a very long 5ft high wall in the middle of the sea. It seemed like an Arthur C. Clark kind of thing. After two nights without sleep I had started hallucinating, so I was doubting what I was seeing. As I got nearer I could see it wasn’t a man made wall, but a very smooth and tiny cliff face, maybe 10 feet high. I sailed along it for miles and miles, and finally reached the other side of the island, which was just endless beautiful little bays with white sandy beaches.

La Blanquilla

I still had an hour or two of sailing left before I reached the spot where I wanted to anchor, I stood up in the cockpit and stretched and yawned really loudly. Like a bear. I scanned the completely empty ocean and noticed a boat heading towards me. Did they think that my stretching arms in the air thing was a call for help? ‘Guys I’m just yawning’. Then I thought there’s no way they could have tuned toward me so quickly; they must have been heading my way before I yawned. In which case maybe they think that was my fighting growl or something.

I still wasn’t sure if they were pirates. The boat was an old fishing boat, OK, but with three big outboards; that’s a bad sign. Then again it was painted yellow and orange and looked like it was called Daisy Tom. I thought that was a good sign; just lots of friendly Venezuelan old men out fishing. I wave. They wave back. And then one of them holds a severed arm above his head and starts shaking it madly, and their boat is still heading toward me, fast.

As their boat comes even nearer I can see that it’s not a severed arm, but a lobster. He wants to know if I want to buy it. I shout ‘hola’, then shake my head, say sorry and off they go. Lucky for them, I was just about to let off all my smoke bombs and start going round and round in circles. What would they have made of that I wonder?

I anchored here

Blanquilla was like a beach holiday, but just me. No one else on the island, no other boats (once the pirates had gone). I stayed for two nights but would have liked to have stayed much longer. It was exactly what I needed after Trinidad.

sunset off Blanquilla

Not all was well though. Anchoring, I noticed that my depth gauge was broken. I checked the gauge, and the monitor, and finally found that some of the cable between the two had chaffed, and partly worn through. It should be an easy fix once I get to Bonaire. Also I had tangled my main sail halyard around my radar reflector, and had to pull it tight, so that now I would have to go up the mast to get it back down. But since the wind was directly behind me I was sailing jib only, so I was happy to leave it up there for the time being. In the morning I would set off early again for Los Roques.