Arrival in Culebra, Puerto Rico

We jibed all through the night, waiting till the change of the watches so it didn't disrupt our sleep scheds. The shore lights and loom of St. Croix dimmed as we skirted around its west end and then we could see the hazy lights of Vieques, Culebra and an all-but-glowing, very well-lit St. Thomas. We made our final jibe about 0330. By 0630, we were heading through the well-marked Canal del Este (Eastern Channel) into Ensenada Honda. Remember … red, right, returning. (For you landlubbers … keep the red markers to the right.)

According to Wiki, Isla Culebra (Koo-lay-brah - "Snake Island") is an island-municipality of Puerto Rico. Located approximately 17 miles (27 km) east of the Puerto Rican mainland, Culebra is Puerto Rico's least populous municipality. The island is hilly, lush and green with what appear to be, high-end houses built on the hillsides. We made our way through the reefs, hugging the marked channel, and anchored off the main town of Dewey, aka Culebra, with about 25+ boats as neighbors. The anchorage is large and we found a fine spot without much effort and dropped the hook. Yahoo!

As we've previously noted, we had registered with the US Customs SVRS (Small Vessels Reporting System) before returning to Trinidad. We had filed a “float plan” according to procedure before leaving Trinidad in hopes that this would streamline the check-in process for U.S. Immigration/Customs. All we can say is “Wow!”. First of all, our iPhone worked within 5-6 miles of Culebra (thank you, ATT & sister, Lin). Once anchored, we called Culebra Customs and Border Protection and provided the necessary information. The officer welcomed us back to the USA and said he'd call back within the hour. Good as his word, we received his call, got our clearance number and sha-bang … we were all cleared in. That was it. Nine of Cups is back in American waters after 9 years abroad and her crew is all legal and checked in.

This called for a cuppa and a sit down in the cockpit to celebrate. The breeze was exquisite and the scenery was candy for the eyes. We'd thought we'd go ashore, but after a bit more discussion, we decided to stay aboard for the day, get our chore list together (yes, there's a list … no surprise there!) and perhaps get a head start on what needs to be done. And then, perhaps, a nap somewhere in the mix.

Total mileage for the trip - 520 nm.

Trinidad to Puerto Rico - Days 3 & 4

Day 3 - 255 nm to go Following an awesome, star-studded night, we welcomed our first sunny day. The sun wasted no time at all in rising and shining. By 0630, Old Sol was brilliant and blazing. The constant tradewind breeze keeps things cool enough, but we're slathered in sunscreen and very happy we have a bimini to keep the direct UV from frying us.

As we watch the Windward Islands to the east slip away on the charts, there's some small regret that we're not island-hopping our way north. Grenada, Bequia, Barbados, Mustique, St. Lucia, Martinique … maybe next time.

We had lots of entertainment during the day. Two flying fish were in the scuppers this morning, both quite stiff and stinky, definitely part of Bob's family. Dolphins paid us a visit in the afternoon and stayed to play for about 15-20 minutes. A brown noddy landed on the solar panels and despite efforts to chase him off, he managed to return time and time again, depositing voluminous amounts of poop with every landing. Too bad we're not in the guano business. A curious laughing gull cruised by several times, hovering close to the noddy and we wondered if they were sea mates or if the tern was thinking he'd like a rest as well. After five unsuccessful attempts at discouraging the poop fest, David finally ended the noddy's respite by flicking him with a line. He squawked a “hrumph” and took off disgruntled. So much for our hospitality at sea.

We finally found the other end of that pesky adverse current that's been slowing us down and now we're enjoying a 1 knot push. The  currents in the Carib are clockwise with Atlantic waters entering through the Windwards with the North Equatorial Current. They swirl around and begin exiting in the north through the  Leewards and north of Puerto Rico and Cuba … forming the Florida Current and Gulf Stream. We're most happy to be on the positive end for a change.

Directly on our route is a tiny island, Isla Aves, not to be confused with the Islas Aves en route to Bonaire. It's really no more than “a speck of  sand in the east Caribbean Sea, barely large enough and high enough to support a small field of grass, seabirds, and endangered sea turtles, let alone people. The islet, however is a location of great international interest. For Venezuela and Dominica, in particular, control of the tiny islet represents the gateway to thousands of square miles/km of ocean-based resources. Whoever control Aves controls the resources of the ocean around it – [purportedly] about 20%  of the world’s natural gas resources.” Venezuela has set up a base there and we thought we'd stop to check it out.  Alas the charts for this “speck of sand” are not detailed and we arrived at about 10pm on a moonless night. We gave it a pass.

We are enjoying another stellar evening. It's a new moon which means no moon at all and the night's are pitch black, save the shining stars and planets. It's spectacular, but I miss the moon. She'll be back in a few days.

Day 4 - 147  nm to go

Another spectacular night followed by an eye-blinding sunrise. The clouds moved in around 0900 … big, puffy clouds that look like cotton balls suspended in a blue field.  They weren't ominous and only served to filter the blazing sun a bit and save our retinas.

Dolphins played in our bow wake throughout the day and another noddy stopped by. We love the birds, but the poop detail after they visit is pretty gross.

By the way, since our furler foul, all sails have been full out and we've not made a single adjustment. Talk about easy sailing for lazy sailors.

After I wrote that line above (shame on me for bragging), the wind went more southerly and we ended up poling out, wing-on-wing, and continually jibing all through the rest of the day and evening. We'll be in tomorrow morning. By mid evening, the shore lights of St. Croix came into view and that old restless feeling “we'll be in port soon” grabbed us, like a horse heading to the barn. The trip has been pleasant and it's good to be back on the sea, but heading into Culebra will be pleasant, too.

Trinidad to Puerto Rico - Days 1 & 2

Day 1 - 509 nm to go We were up with the light at 0530, bright-eyed and bushy-tailed. It was drizzling out and pretty grey as we sipped our cuppas and did all the last minute checks we'd already done the night before. Just before 0700, David cranked up the engine, I threw off the mooring lines and we were puttering through Chaguaramas Harbour. We passed by our friends on Ave del Mar to say goodbye. Betty and Luis were on deck waving, shouting that we'd reunite in Nova Scotia next summer. We slid past all the big, moored fishing boats and tugs and barges and scooted between Grand and Little Gaspar Islands. Seagulls and terns cried overhead. Pelicans were out in great numbers, swooping low over the water or floating in rafts of 10 and 12. They barely acknowledged us at we motored past, obviously well used to passing motor vessels and more intent on catching up on pelican gossip with their neighbors.

We took a hard turn to starboard and caught a big tidal push through the narrow Boca del Monos  passage (Monkeys' Mouth) which spit us into the Caribbean Sea once again. It was still misty and we could barely see the Venezuelan coastline, only 11 nm away, on the hazy horizon. David toasted Neptune with the last of our St..Helena White Lion rum. At last, we were on our way again.

There have been several recorded pirate attacks as recently as January 2016 on yachts plying the waters between Trinidad and Grenada. We had filed a float plan with the Trinidadian Coast Guard and weren't feeling overly concerned, but concerned enough. Thankfully, we encountered no pirates, nor did we even see that many other vessels. An occasional ship passed by, but nothing closer than a mile or two. We could see Trinidad's oil platforms in the distance.

The morning mist burned off and the Caribbean welcomed us with 12-15 knot easterly winds and 3-4' (1m) seas. As the day wore on, the wind increased and we zipped along nicely. That uneasy seasick feeling lurked close by, but never manifest itself with more than a bit of nausea.

Our first problem occurred when we tried to furl the jib in anticipation of an approaching squall-line in the late afternoon. The furler fouled and we could not get the jib in. As it turned out, the squall missed us and David was able to make a quick fix to the furler though he reckoned it would require more attention when we arrived in Culebra. Other minor stuff went wrong, nothing critical and we considered it typical of any passage beginning. All were put on “the list” for another day.

We sat and chatted and napped frequently. Evening came and our first night watch passed without a problem. Winds alternated throughout the night between 10 kts and gusts to 25 kts with a few showers to keep us on our toes. After sweating in Chaguaramas, it was a pleasure to pull out a light blanket to take off the chill during the night.

Day 2 - 357 nm to go

Another grey day and the waters were choppier and with it came a touch of seasickness. We nursed ourselves with another dose of Stugeron, dry toast and tea and by late afternoon, we were both feeling better. Nothing broke that we were aware of.

We'd made good time yesterday and were hoping to continue, but we were thwarted by a 1 knot adverse current that kept our distance-made to a minimum, barely over 100 miles. It showered on and off, but the overcast skies and constant breeze kept the temperature very comfortable. By late afternoon, we were both feeling well again. The true test was making and eating dinner and being able to read without being nauseous. We were successful.

Dolphins visited throughout the day and provided some welcome entertainment. We saw a large flock of noddies around dusk, raucously discussing the best fishing possibilities for the area. Flying fish are common, but none have made their way to our scuppers yet. After Bob the Stink, it would be hard to meet another flying fish as loveable.

The overcast skies dissipated and the night was incredibly clear and beautiful. What a show! More stars than you can imagine, twinkling and glittering overhead. The Milky Way was distinctive and bright, millions of stars dazzling me with brilliance cast light years ago. I wondered who else might be out there appreciating this same spectacle.