The day I lived many days….  Monday, 06/06/2022

Had a fairly tough trip south from the Dominican Republic. Set off at about 11:00 on Wednesday 1st from Barahona, delayed a couple of hours by the bureaucracy involved in getting my international despacho. The course was simple: head directly south to deal with the initial southeasterly wind, and then bear somewhat southeast as the wind became more easterly. 

It proved a bit more difficult, because the wind remained more southeasterly than forecast. The waves were steadily from the southeast, making it uncomfortable sailing, the bow regularly slapping down as we crested a 2-metre wave. Two-thirds of the way through the three-day crossing I made a decision: give up on Curaçao and head instead for Aruba, roughly 50 miles to its west. Avoiding what would have been a fairly long, hard slog.

I was only 11 miles off Aruba when I made an unfortunate discovery. I’d just taken the sails down and intended motoring in. Turned on the engine and it rapidly cut off. Tried again, nothing. I pondered this for a couple of minutes and realised that something was probably caught around the propellor. I didn’t particularly want to go down and see – we were in about 300 metres depth and Manuka was bobbing up and down in (fortunately only) one metre waves. 

But I had no choice, so donned my goggles and went overboard. Yep – a long piece of rope caught round the propellor. It took me a few attempts diving down to grab hold of it and get it free of the propellor blades. But it was caught around the shaft and wouldn’t come away. So back into the boat, got a sharp knife and back in. Cut the rope short and pulled myself back on board – not so easy. I was sure that this wouldn’t be enough, so it was with trepidation that I tried to start the engine again. It started! What a relief. Deliberately kept the power low, because black smoke was coming out of the exhaust, suggesting that the engine was straining. And hoped for the best…

Well, made it. Stopped a mile off when I got good mobile signal. First phoned Anna to wish her a happy 30th birthday (I felt like doing something nice before anything else!). Then called a marina. Good, they had space for me. The only problem was that I couldn’t come straight in – the chap said I had to go a mile or so down the coast to the commercial port first, to check in with customs and immigration. No way to avoid this. So very reluctantly I headed down there, fearing that the engine might suddenly seize up – a case of so near but so far.

In addition, I’d read a few comments on my Navionics electronic charts that said how impossible it was to dock at customs due to the strong crosswind, a concrete dock and a reef just a few metres away (one captain had given up trying and dropped anchor 50 metres off, but customs had refused to deal with him, saying that it was compulsory to tie up to their dock – he’d had a blazing row with them, upped his anchor and sailed on to Colombia, three days away!). 

So I approached warily, but with determination that I was going to succeed where others hadn’t. There was a ship in the way, went around inside of that and came along the concrete dock. The wind pushed me away. At its end a wooden dock, but it was immediately clear that the water was too shallow for a seven foot draft. Rapid reverse, right back to the start of the dock – not easy against the wind. By this stage two Spanish guys on duty had come to help. I got close enough to throw one of them a long line. So he had me, even though the bow was blowing out putting me almost at a right angle to the dock. Reversed against this line and gradually managed to bring the bow in, enough to run to midships and throw another line to the second guy. Now I was fine: with the two of them hauling around bollards and judicious use of the engine (good old Volvo, still going!), forward and back, I was secure. 

They were so happy, and were both congratulating me! Which made it pretty obvious that people really do have problems docking there. The larger guy asked me where I’d come from (my Spanish is clearly improving!). I said the Dominican Republic and his question was Solo??? Si, si, mi solo! They were very impressed, which gave my spirits a useful boost! Ready to deal with Immigration! Had I completed my online form? No! I put on my very best charm and managed to persuade her – another Spaniard (a lot of Colombians and Venezuelans working here) – to let me do a written form instead. Then Customs, no problem (the guy was actually very pleasant and friendly to me – maybe just because I’d passed the docking test!), and back to my two friends on the dock. Easy now: they just released the ropes and threw them onboard and the wind took me off the dock nicely. A tight turn, very narrowly passing the reef, and I was away! 

Coming into the marina required more difficult manoeuvring: basically reversing onto the dock against the wind. Took a couple of tries, the key being to avoid being blown onto the rocky breakwater, but in I came. The marina manager was there: threw him a rope and then a second one and had the stern secure, so then it was easy. A second guy in a dinghy to take a bow line and attach to a floating buoy, and eventually there I was, nicely secured against the constant wind. Chatted with the manager, a Dutchman, relating my trying day. Thanked him and said What’s your name? Unbelievably… Hans! I said, well Hans, to find another charming and competent man called Hans – wonders will never cease!

So Saturday the 4th of June was a day in which I felt I had lived several days. I thought I’d be exhausted in the evening and sleep like a baby, but I didn’t – I think my body was too full of adrenaline. But that’s of no account. What was important about the day was that I faced several challenges, and I think that I performed well under the circumstances. I have no desire to seek risk for the sake of it – I wouldn’t want to go overboard in the ocean like that very often, because it’s dangerous – but when you have no choice it is good to know that you are capable of doing what needs to be done. It’s more psychological than practical. Afterward, I marvelled at how ruthlessly focused I had been – 100% determined. No room for doubt.

Now: Aruba. What a colossal change compared with the Dominican Republic. The island is heavily geared to tourism (US tourism in particular), which makes up 75% of the economy. This includes cruise ships, for which it’s a favourite stop – in 2019, pre-Covid, something like 340 cruise ships docked, disgorging over 700,000 passengers. The cruise ship dock is just along from the marina and facing it is a parade of luxury boutiques, some operating from buildings in “traditional” Dutch style (making it look like a sort of mini Las Vegas!). All the usual culprits: Cartier, Bulgari, Gucci, Louis Vitton, Prada, Chopard… People on cruises love coming ashore and shopping, and it’s exploited to the hilt. 

Aruba is very First World – in fact it’s layout is very American, and totally car-based. I walked 35 minutes north to a good supermarket today, and I was the only person around who was on foot. Lots of restaurants, all nationalities, Cuban, Peruvian, Dutch, Japanese, as well as the more obvious Mexican, Italian and American. I’m not knocking the place at all – it’s great to have choice and predictability again if I want to eat out. The simple truth is that life is so much easier in the First World than in the Third, where everything is rather hit and miss. 

Oh, and the marina is part of the Renaissance Resort (Renaissance being a luxury brand within the Marriott hotel chain). Actually there are two: over the road is the Renaissance Resort and Casino, and alongside the marina is the Renaissance Wind Creek Resort (where rooms cost $400 a night, even though this is off-season). And by being in the marina they give you a wrist band and a key card which allow you to use all their facilities (even though you’re only paying $40 a night!). So after washing the boat on Sunday morning – everything outside was sticky with salt, which I’d partly transferred inside – late afternoon found me swimming in an artfully constructed sea pool and then reclining on a lounger on the sand, with the main swimming pool alongside. Lovely!