Holy Week in Cartagena with The Fantasy tied up at the exclusive Club de Pesca. Massive ramparts, colonial architecture and colourful markets. And all expenses paid!
1 April, Friday, Club de Pesca, Cartagena, Colombia. Cartagena is in full-blown party mode. Music until dawn, crowds of revellers, firecrackers, dogs and kids. The city sleeps late. Only the markets show any signs of life before 10am.
The ancient Mercado de Bazurto, just a short walk from the yacht club, is a bustling kaleidoscope of colours and aromas and comes alive well before the city stirs. Anne and I would stroll over to scope out the succulent pineapples, mangoes, bananas, melons and other tropical delicacies. Each stall holder would shout out the price of their freshest seafood, exotic vegetables, prime cuts of beef and goat and assorted cheeses, aphrodisiacs and dried roots. All our senses would be stimulated. Underfoot squishy organic layers felt wonderfully cool on my bare feet.
We’d stock up for the day, Jim was generous with the food budget. Prices were dirt cheap, mere pesos for the best cuts. We ate well on the Fantasy whilst in port, all of us taking turns in the galley. Both Anne and Jerry are exceptional cooks and whip up delicious dinners with the local provender. I watch and pick up some good kitchen skills.
More work on the boat, of course. Jim wants to head north by next week and still a lot of re-arranging the cabins and caulking suspect seams. While the Fantasy is not flimsy by any means, she got battered on the leg to Cartegena. The passage home via the Gulf Stream and notorious Yucatan Channel will be longer, windier and rougher. So Jim wants everything super ship-shape.
But still time to party.
2 – 7 April, Club de Pesca. Actually getting anxious to move on. Been putting in longer hours every day on the Fantasy but we’re well-prepared for the passage north. Cartagena has calmed down (relatively speaking) after a week of non-stop music, dance and revelry and has assumed a more staid and venerable nature. It is a compact city, perfect for walking, with the narrow, cobbled streets lined with beautiful old colonial houses. Entire neighborhoods of overhanging balconies and shuttered windows. Mostly well-preserved, peeling paint here and there, but solid beam and stone construction with red-tiled roofs.
The last few days have been pretty busy, stowing away food for a two-week passage to Florida, if things go right. We have a freezer on board and it is jammed with the best cuts of prime Colombian beef. Hit an American-style ‘supermercado’ and stocked up on canned goods and other supplies. Fresh fruit and veggies stashed everywhere, a huge bunch of almost ripe bananas hangs in the galley.
The Fantasy is trimmed and taut. Caulked everything that might leak and tightened all the lines and shrouds. Aired out the sail lockers. Jim and Brian tuned up the diesel and it purrs. Jim takes good care of the engine and has a knack for turning a wrench…a good skill to have.
Captain Jim also takes good care of the paperwork. Multiple layers of bureaucracy to engage, each one with different rules, requirements and, of course, fees, legit and otherwise. Oddly enough, my Spanish is the best amongst the crew so sometimes, if the official don’t speak English, I help out (or at least try to) with translating.
Jim has two essential traits: endless patience and deep pockets. Without either, driving a boat from San Diego to Key West would be much more challenging, if not impossible.
I’ve sure enjoying my all-expense working vacation in Cartagena. Met some fun people, explored the colonial city and ramparts, ate well and improved my Spanish. So far, at least, my trip has worked out even better than I could have hoped for. A yacht-ride back to Key West via Jamaica? Yahoo!
8 – 13 April: Under sail to Jamaica. Motored out of the Club de Pesca after a busy morning hitting the market, topping up water and diesel tanks, lashing everything down and saying adios to all of our new friends. Kinda overcast, highlighting the brooding ramparts and towering bastions dominating the inner city. Cartagena is a major port and there is a constant stream of ships and boats crowding the narrow channel. Coastal mahogany traders, tankers, freighters and even a few cayucas, you name it. Continued south to Boca Chica, the heavily-fortified harbor entrance. Once we cleared southern point of the aptly-named ‘Isla de la Tierra Bomba’ we steered due north. Soon we picked up favorable winds and hoisted the sails. Jamaica lay 600 miles far away beyond the horizon.
Steady winds, moderate seas. Easy sailing for the first couple of days. The trades blew out of the east north east, pushing us along at about 7 or 8 knots. We shared watches, two hours at the helm. With the fair winds the swells were regular and rolling, giving the Fantasy an easy motion.
I’d been on board the Fantasy for a month and was an accepted member of the crew. Jim, the owner, had founded a chain of rest homes in California and was living out his fantasy of sailing to the Caribbean. Jim looks after the engine and electronics as well as all the paperwork. Plus he bankrolls the entire operation. He buys the food, pays the fees, organizes the logistics and plans the journey. In his mid-60s, Captain Jim is competent, soft-spoken and fair minded. After all, he’s giving me an all-expense paid ride back to Key West.
Jerry is the sailing master. A San Diego native, he’d been working the yacht scene for about six years, after his tour as a grunt in Vietnam. He plots the courses, sets the sails and knows what to do. Quiet but forceful, Jerry keeps the Fantasy running smoothly. He had been with Jim since California and was the only paid hand.
Anne is also a Vietnam vet, but she had been a combat nurse. Born in Tyneside, England with a thick Geordie accent, Anne manages the galley and can repair almost anything. She is about 40 years old with short blonde hair and a raucous sense of humor. Like Jerry, Anne was a yachting pro and had signed on (unpaid) in Punta Arenas, along with Brian.
Brian was total fun. 20 years old and full of life, Brian loved to surf, sail and chase babes. He knows his way around the deck and takes great pride in stowing the lines neatly and keeping the brightwork shiny. He and I work the sails, clean and scrub, help Anne in the galley and do whatever else is needed.
Brian helped Jim in the engine room and I worked with Jerry on navigation. We were having fun playing with Jim’s sextant. The Caribbean was perfect for star sights. Jim had a Loran, but it always gave us screwy positions, hence the sextant. It’s pretty accurate if you know how to use it.
As we neared the northern reaches of the Colombian Basin the swells got progressively choppier and the winds more variable. We started to thump through the waves rather than cut through them. The hull took a beating. It wasn’t dangerous or anything, just uncomfortable and loud.
The seas picked up and the wind died down as we approached the Jamaica Channel, the strait separating Jamaica from Haiti. It was a major shipping lane and we saw lots of traffic both ways. We were a bobbing cork in a busy sea.
Decided to motor through the passage into Port Antonio. But when Jim fired up the Cummins Diesel it made a hell of a noise. Turns out the engine mounts had broken loose during the passage from Cartagena and the engine was vibrating like crazy. We were bouncing around a dangerous passage under reefed sails with a dodgy motor.
But Jim is a resourceful guy and not afraid to get down and dirty. He and Brian rigged up the chain from the small anchor and literally chained the engine to the frame using an assortment of bolts and levers. Filthy job in the oily bilge, rocking and rolling. Took about eight hours of awkward manoeuvring in a tight spot. But Jim’s makeshift repair did the trick and we were able to limp into the laid back town of Port Antonio on the north east coast of Jamaica.
The engine was stuffed. We would need new fittings, repair facilities and a professional mechanic. Jim was apologetic. “Sorry everyone, but we’ll have to hole up here. Maybe up to three weeks.”
Three weeks in Port Antonio, Jamaica? All expenses paid. Living on a yacht anchored off a funky port town. Reggae, ganja, forests and beaches. Not a bad life at all.
14 – 30 April, Port Antonio, Jamaica. Incredibly scenic, Port Antonio is a sleepy little port town with a few shops and pubs, modest houses, a boat yard and a dance hall. It’s main claim to fame is that Ian Fleming, the author of the James Bond novels, had an amazing cliff-top estate overlooking the harbor. It was the perfect place to hang out for a few weeks.
Anne didn’t want to stick around and decided to fly up to Miami to look for a berth going back across the Atlantic. She was good value and we’ll miss her. So it was just us guys left.
Brian, Jerry and I worked most mornings on the boat. Everything got pretty wet on the passage and it all to be rinsed, dried and stowed. The hull was filthy and needed a major clean, lots of scrubbing over the side. But only a few hours in the morning and we had the rest of the day off.
Jim battled with logistics. Parts are hard to come by and expensive, the haul-out at the shipyard might or might not handle a 50-footer, nobody was quite sure when the mechanic would be back. Sometimes Jim would go on shore and hassle all day. But we worked through the issues and slowly whipped the Fantasy back into shape. One nice thing about Jim. He never, ever complained. This was his trip of a lifetime and he meant to enjoy every minute.
I was flat broke, a grand total of $10 to my name. I could eat and sleep on the boat but had no cash for beer or anything else. But in Jamaica, being poor isn’t an obstacle. In fact, it is quite liberating.
Blue Mountain ganja could quite possibly be the best dope in the Caribbean. Potent and beautiful, the primo buds are a take on an almost spiritual aspect. Click Here for the full story.
I could hitch-hike along the northern coastal road for the afternoon. Bluff Bay, Annetto Bay, Ocho Rios. Or up into the Blue Mountains, high up above town. Everyone would stop to give me a lift. I didn’t look like the typical tourist. My hair and beard were getting shaggy again. My shorts and T-shirt were well-worn with a few holes. I had a deep tan and no shoes. My feet and hands had built up hard layers of callouses…I could walk on the reef barefoot.
The north coast was beautiful, rocky cliffs, secluded coves. Rushing rivers spilled out of the Blue Mountains through jungle gorges, over waterfalls to the beach. Orchids and mosses festooned ancient trees. Little villages dotted the coastline. Idyllic.
The Blue Mountains were a cooler contrast to the coast. Usually cloud covered, the roads were much quieter so I did a lot of walking. Not many settlements, just isolated farmhouses in the forest. Pineapples, tiny and super sweet, were in season. The higher elevations were ideal for coffee, the bright red beans ripe for harvest. Climate, latitude, elevation and soils are similar to Volcan Atitlan, also famed for its coffee. The farmers would always rotate their crops: clear, burn, plant, harvest and let be. There were always smouldering piles of vegetation.
Like Roatan, Jamaica was English speaking. I’d enjoy lively conversations with everyone I met.
Montego Bay was abuzz. Dr Michael Manley, Jamaica’s high-profile, high-flying Prime Minister, would be addressing the adoring masses at the football stadium Saturday morning. The entire town was stoked. Click Here for the full story.
Bit by bit Jim repaired the engine, remounted it on reinforced hull struts and re-aligned the propeller shaft. We spent three nasty days in haul-out where Jerry, Brian and I scraped the barnacle-encrusted hull. You get covered in itchy, smelly muck. Then sanding to even out the nicks and scrapes. Working together, the three of us re-painted the hull with anti-foul paint in an afternoon. A lot of hard work, but very necessary.
Towards the end of April the Fantasy was ship-shape and well-provisioned. Brian, Jerry and I were an efficient crew. We had crawled into every nook and cranny on board and tightened every seam. We could repair – indeed had repaired – almost every piece of gear onboard. The rigging was in tip top shape and the sails were aired out and salt-free. And the hull was sleek and smooth. Jim set 1 May as our date of departure.
Click Here to read about the passage up the Yucatan Passage into Key West.
Around the Caribbean by Bike, Thumb and Sail 