Key West, Florida

We have made it to the US and to Internet. Below are the blog entries kept offline until now.

Monday, March 23

This morning we heard on the Western Caribbean Net about the first reported COVID-19 case in Belize. The person had arrived recently from the U.S. and is now in San Pedro on Ambergris Cay a few miles north of us. There was no further news about ports of entry in the U.S.

We went to town on Caye Caulker to finish provisioning and have lunch.  Absolutely all of the tourists are now gone. Our first stop was the beverage distributor near the fuel and dinghy dock. We purchased beer, grapefruit ginger ale and Diet Coke in abundance. I ordered and paid while Shalako went to the nearby pharmacy, where he was able to get refills of his medications with no trouble. Then Peter and Shalako took all the beverages back to Mantra on the dinghy. I returned the two hand carts and then set off to find our friends Dan and Pam from Pau Hana. They had told us to join them for lunch at a particular restaurant. Walking across the three blocks of the islands, I stopped in a laundromat to see if I could bring all our dirty clothes in to wash by myself. I was happy to see a clean facility with modern machines. I can use my washing machine on the boat and hang clothes and linens out to dry, but the machine uses 30 liters of water for each load, and I had about 5 loads to do; we didn’t want to use our limited water supply on something so frivolous as clean sheets, towels and clothing in these somewhat desperate times. I told the owner I would be back later. She replied that she would be open until 5 p.m. and then would probably be closed in the following days.

Magnificent frigate birds by a dock, Caye Caulker

Shuttered hotel, Caye Caulker

Empty beach

On the main street, I followed their directions, heading south, but I found all the restaurants and shops shuttered. There were two grocery stores open. I backtracked and headed north, stopping in the only restaurant I could find that was open, La Cubana, and I found them on the beach side of the place. Peter and Shalako joined us there in a short while. After lunch, we cruised the streets, stopping in every open grocery store to purchase more milk and bread, sometimes taking everything off the shelf. More than previous days, more locals were in the store gathering supplies. The police came by at one store to enforce social distancing and limiting people in a store to five people. They told us that San Pedro is closed down, so we will not be going there.

Empty streets in Caye Caulker

No activity on the docks

Dan, Sherri, Peter, Pam and Shalako at La Cubana

At the only hardware store in town, we purchased a fishing rod—just in case! Before we went back to our boat, we bought what might be our last treat for a while, yummy ice cream bars. (There are two homemade ice cream shops in town, but they have been closed since we arrived.)

Back on Mantra, we gathered up all of our laundry and Shalako and I headed back to town to the laundromat. The machines were big, and we were done in less than an hour and a half. Back on the boat, Peter was successful in finding and fixing the problem with the auto-pilot, so someone will not need to be at the helm all the time while we are sailing.

At sunset, we dinghied over to Pau Hana for drinks and conversation. Generally, sundown finds cruisers getting together to share information about their boats and places they have visited and passages they have made, but the pandemic is the dominant topic now, as I am sure it is everywhere.

Still, the trade winds blow steadily, the weather is great, the water is delightful, and at night millions of stars are visible above and around us. We are concerned about the current global situation but grateful to be in such a lovely place.

Tuesday, March 24

Through my friend Lori in Washington, we learned that US citizens can return to ports in Florida, so we are thankful she was able to get that information for us. We will spend a few more days in Belize and then head north for the Yucatán, where we will cruise and anchor but not go ashore. 

We made one more trip to shore in Caye Caulker and found a restaurant open for lunch, although they were just getting ready to close the kitchen. There were few people on the streets and only a couple of local kids on the long stretch of beach on this bright and balmy day. We purchased some more vegetables after lunch and returned to our boat.

With nothing much else to do, we took our snorkeling gear in the dinghy and headed out to look for manatees and fish. We did not find any manatees, and there were no reefs close to the eastern shore of the island. We swam around over sand and grass but saw nothing of interest. 

Peter tackled the water maker off and on throughout the day and I think he has finally decided that there are too many issues to make it worthwhile to repair. 

Wednesday, March 25

After a visit from Pam and Dan in the morning, we pulled up anchor and cruised down to Long Cay (one of the many Long Cays in the world) with our genoa. Our days have become very slow-paced and uneventful. After lunch, it was nap time for the guys, and then we took the dinghy into the lagoon. The water was a bit murky but we decided to explore around some submerged fallen tree trunks and branches. The first couple just had grunts, but then I discovered, to my delight, another one that had not only large schools of grunts but small schools of intermediate French angelfish and, most impressively, schools of large lookdowns, a species of jack that is silvery and distinguished by their steeply sloping, blunt faces and the trailing, silver-blue, thread-like extensions of the dorsal and anal fins which stream out past the forked tail. I have rarely seen a lookdown and never encountered them in schools of a couple hundred. They seemed unperturbed by our presence; we could practically become a part of their group as they circled around the snag. 

Sunset, Long Cay

Pam and Dan came by for drinks after sunset. They are pulling up anchor tomorrow morning and starting north for their home in Fort Myers, Florida.

After dinner, the three of us played Hearts again. A feature of this card game is that you do not have to play the dreaded Queen of Spades or any hearts if you are out of suit, so you can choose whom you want to stick with points.

Thursday, March 26

Today, the same: listen to the Caribbean Weather and the Northern Caribbean net, eat breakfast and get ready to up anchor. Sail to another spot. 

It was another gorgeous day with 12-14 knot winds from the ESE, and we sailed with the main and the genoa on a close reach at about 7.5 knots until we reached the mouth of the English Channel. We then dropped the main and sailed to the lee side of Middle Long Cay with the genoa only. We anchored near the sunken barge to make it easy to snorkel from the boat. The only other boat in the anchorage was My Island Queen. With only a few dozen boats left in Belize, we have become familiar with most of them and can recognize many from a distance. We are all looking out for each other.

The school of barracuda was there as well as lots of grunts, jacks, and parrotfish, including one large rainbow parrotfish with its rusty head and smoky blue lips. The goliath grouper was hiding out, but we saw the spotted trunkfish as well as large, smiling porcupinefish. 

We were all a bit tired of playing Hearts, so we taught Shalako to play dominoes before another early bedtime.

Friday, March 27

For our breakfast, I made hard-boiled eggs and cut up the second and last of our pineapples. After the usual activities, we raised anchor around 10 a.m. and headed south with 15-16 knots of winds from the ESE. The sailing under nearly cloudless skies was wonderful and then we arrived at what used to be Glory Cay, destroyed to an awash reef in Hurricane Hattie decades ago. We had little guidance from the only guidebook of this coast by Freya Rauscher, first published nearly twenty years ago, and no information on depths or the extent of the barrier reef on our electronic charts. Nevertheless, intrepid sailors that we are, we dropped the genoa, turned on the engine and headed east into the unknown. As we got near the glistening white breakers on the reef, we started motoring along the inside with me on the bow looking for a passage. Light brownish-green water indicates reef close to the surface and when we approached these areas we turned away from the reef and headed further southeast to look for another way out into open water. Finally, after several approaches, we thought we found a cut. We had made it well through the reef as the waves from the sea increased when the depth under the keel, which was never more than 2 meters, dropped to 0.4! At that point, turning around would have been treacherous and we were almost free. We had no time for debate; as the admiral, I ordered us forward, and with trepidation we held our course and emerged on the other side without a scratch! We were able to breath easily again. That was certainly the most difficult and dangerous passage through a cut that we have ever made. 

We got back to sailing with both sails on a close reach at 7 knots, with the waves at 2 to 4 feet at 2 second intervals (the first “high” seas for Shalako), and continued to the southwest coast of Turneffe Atoll. We dropped anchor in 0.7 meters and had lunch. A visually imperceptible surging current from the south made that spot rocky and we thought we would find something more calm further north. We were wrong. Our second anchorage proved to be just as rocky, and the rolling increased through the night. The wind whistled through the rigging as the boat creaked and moaned with the torqueing. It was not as bad as the first night in Placencia a few weeks ago and didn’t even approach the lurching seas we experienced at Duck Island in Long Island Sound in 2018, where we pulled up anchor in the middle of the night.

Saturday, March 28

We couldn’t get out of the night’s anchorage quick enough. We listened to the single sideband radio for the weather and news about the pandemic, skipped breakfast and hauled up the anchor. The wind from the ESE was 20 knots when we got out of the lee of the land, with gusts up to 25. The seas increased to 6 to 8 feet with corresponding intervals, and we were sailing close hauled and pounding into the waves. 

After we got the main with two reefs and the staysail set, there was nothing left to do but be at the helm. The waves were coming high over the bow, so we had to close all the hatches below as well as the ones in the hard dodger. It quickly became stifling for me, and I moved to the aft of the boat to read. I was not comfortable reading behind the wheel, so I moved back to the dodger, but I couldn’t stand the still, hot air, so I decided to lie down in the salon below with the fans on. As we were tacking, I suddenly was overcome with nausea; I lurched toward the deck and the lee side of the boat, but I only made it as far as the galley sink before the crackers I had eaten earlier to keep down the acidity in my stomach came up as a yellow pasty mess. I felt somewhat better but not well enough to help out on deck. Thank God Shalako is with us and has quickly learned so much about handling the boat. I was able to rest in the aft cabin with a fan blowing on me until I was better. 

The rough sailing from Turneffe Island to Lighthouse Atoll took us seven hours. I had fully recovered by the time we needed to drop the sails and motor into the calm anchorage in the lee of Long Cay on Lighthouse Atoll, where two other boats were also anchored. We were all hungry, having skipped lunch, and I cooked up pasta with spaghetti sauce and made afternoon tea. Shalako has become at least a temporary convert to this British tradition; I have never taken to this custom. 

As the sun was hovering low on the western horizon, Peter and I jumped in the warm water and snorkeled to a nearby reef we had explored when we last anchored here. A large spotted eagle ray swam gracefully around us as we passed over the grassy bottom. On the reef were vibrantly colored fish of many species, some darting in and out among the convoluted contours of the coral, others swimming languidly above the reef and along the edges. We spotted a few striking yellow and black rock beauties, bright blue little chromis, a smooth trunkfish, damselfish, and juvenile French angelfish as well as large stoplight parrotfish, redband parrotfish, redtail parrotfish and greenblotch parrotfish. I am starting to distinguish among the many types of red fish with big eyes. Today I identified squirrelfish with their yellowish front dorsal fin, oddscale cardinalfish with their black eye stripe, little flamefish and the glasseye snapper.

The three of us played a fiercely competitive game of Hearts before settling into bed for the night. Our plan is to stay in this anchorage until this wind dies down and then head north to Mexican waters.

Sunday, March 29

After listening to the Northwest Caribbean Net and having omelet for breakfast, we got on to our chores. The priority for me was cleaning the windows of the pilothouse which were so caked with deposited salt from the sea spray from Saturday’s sailing. While Peter devoted himself to the inoperable water maker, Shalako and I used the saltwater hose and the brushes to swab the decks. Then I poured fresh water over the pilothouse and cleaned the windows to a sparkling shine with vinegar. I spent the rest of them morning cleaning various parts of the boat.

Work before play! At noon, Shalako and I took off for the nearby reef. Visibility was superb and the vibrant colors of the shallow reef were a delight. The fish were quite active. In addition to the usual suspects, there was a queen angelfish, a smooth trunkfish and a school of more than a hundred blue tang interspersed with other species. We stayed on the reef until Shalako was cold and ready to return.

Deviled eggs were on the menu for lunch, which pleased everyone. Peter had made a carefully drawn diagram of the water making system after his morning’s assessment and determined that the whole thing is not fixable, although some parts might be salvageable. We will be relying on what’s in our tanks and any rainwater we may be able to collect, although there is no precipitation in the forecast.

For Shalako and me, the rest of the day was spent reading and playing games. Peter fixed (again!) the autopilot, which failed early on our trip yesterday. It was a new issue. Once again, I wonder how non-engineers manage to keep their systems working while they are cruising. I am clueless about all these things. 

As the afternoon light waned, Peter paddled over to the only other boat in this anchorage, Bad Fish, for a chat. Like us, they plan to head to the U.S. in April. Belize is not issuing exit zarpes to any country that is locked down, so we will have to sneak out. Pau Hana has already left for Florida. Whenever we get cell or Internet service, we must check to see how it is going for them.

There was really no sunset. The sun just disappeared into the gray edge of the horizon. This is the first night in a long time that clouds have obscured much of the dazzling canopy of stars. The wind continues to roar by at 18 to 20 knots, but the boat is barely rocking.

Monday, March 30

Today, we sat at anchor off Long Cay at Lighthouse Reef. It was windy all day, but the sun was shining and the temperature was pleasant. Peter worked on various projects in the morning, and Shalako and I tackled the rust on stainless steel on the fore and middecks—the pulpit, the stanchions, the durade protectors and the base of the shrouds. I applied the polish and rubbed, rubbed, rubbed at the corrosion, and Shalako followed behind buffing the metal to a brilliant shine. The nearby reef was calling us, so we put off the aft stainless steel until tomorrow. 

A spotted eagle ray rose off the grass and sand bottom as we approached the reef, alerting us to his presence by the swirls of soft sand in the water. As he glided by, sand streamed off his back. At the reef, visibility was excellent again. Several varieties of grunts, wrasses (including the yellowcheek, the bluehead and the yellowhead), parrotfish, squirrelfish, jacks, porgies, chromis and surgeonfish abounded on and about the reef, joined by darting damselfish; delicate foureye butterflyfish; rock beauties; barracuda; a large, solitary mahogany snapper drifting among the purple fan coral, sponges and gorgonians as well as smaller snappers; a few hamlets and a couple of red speckled graysby and red hinds. The highlights were a couple of well-camouflaged lizardfish sitting still on the coral rubble and a large (maybe eight foot, even accounting for the magnification of the water) nurse shark with two sizeable remoras attached to its ventral side. Of course, I chased it, but it swam away from me.

Today’s sunset was better than yesterdays but was not spectacular. The sun dropped down behind clouds on the horizon, making it appear as a rosy glow, but the last rays of the days tinged the cirrus clouds with a subtle pink tone, like a Maxfield Parrish painting. (Nature imitating art!)

As night settled in, we had dinner and played cards before our usual early bedtime. Tomorrow we leave the waters of Belize to travel under quarantine through Mexican waters en route to Florida.

Tuesday, March 31

After cooking breakfast for the three of us, I cleaned up the galley and then Shalako and I finished our attack on the rust on the stainless steel in the aft part of the boat. While cleaning out the rags off the swim platform, I noticed some weed sticking to the edge of the stern and decided to get out the hull-cleaning gloves. Jumping in the water with my mask, fins and snorkel, I made my way forward along the port side of the boat. Cleaning the muck off the surface was easy, but swimming against the current made the task a bit arduous. On the starboard side, the current wanted to move me along more quickly than I could thoroughly clean, so I had to kick my way forward to maintain my own pace. Since the prevailing winds are from the east, the starboard side is usually facing south at anchor; with more sunlight, weed grows more abundantly, so there was more to clear off. Time and again, I dove under the hull to reach the weed along the midline of the boat. I am not used to being under the boat, so this was a bit scary. Exhaling quite slowly until I needed more oxygen, I surfaced each time gasping for breath. By the time I returned to the stern and climbed aboard, I was exhausted.

After half an hour, however, I was ready to snorkel to the reef. Shalako was napping in anticipation of night watch tonight, so just Peter and I went. We saw two elegant but unwanted lionfish as well as a juvenile French angelfish, the mahogany snapper and one bluespotted cornetfish blending in with the grass and sand along the edge of the reef. Swimming back to the boat, Peter skillfully spotted a web burrfish disguised in the grass. It differs from other burrfish in having a reticulated pattern on its back and sides.

We have had lunch and made sandwiches for a night passage. The jack lines are along both sides of the deck and the harnesses are out. A basket of snacks is topside. Peter is resting. We plan to leave within the next hour and make it to Cayo Norte on the only atoll off the Yucatan coast, called Chinchorro Bank. It is about 100 miles north from here. The wind is down to 12-15 knots from the east, so we are expecting a pleasant passage.

Wednesday, April 1

Yesterday, we set off around 3 p.m., sailing on a beam reach with 11-14 knots wind from the southeast. Indeed, it was quite pleasant, as expected. Early in the night, as Shalako was sleeping in the aft cabin and I was napping on the seat cushion in the pilot house, the wind began to pick up. Peter leaned over me to say he was putting a reef in the sail. I asked if he needed help, but he declined. However, I was now awake, so I helped anyway. We put in one reef and saw immediately that we still had too much sail up as the wind got up to 18 knots. The second reef was accomplished in short time, but then the wind was at a minimum of 20 knots, so we put in the third and last reef and then pulled in the genoa part way. Our point of sail was now between close-reach and close hauled, and the wind gusts made our boat a challenge to handle. By this time, Shalako was also on deck. We had done all we could. Peter and Shalako took turns man-handling the wheel and I retired to the aft cabin, where I was able to sleep.

The wind died down to ten knots after a few hours, and the two guys on deck were able to take out all the reefs and unfurl the genoa. I was oblivious to it all. By dawn, I was awake, however, so I took the watch as the sun rose, and Peter and Shalako went below to sleep. 

We were now in Mexican waters, and we had hoisted the Mexican flag with the yellow quarantine flag below it. With the wind down to six knots, we anchored near Cayo Norte on the top of the Chinchorro Bank, the Yucatán’s only atoll. Peter had not plotted a specific course into the reef-fringed and reef-filled lagoon and we didn’t have anyone on the bow, so it was not a total surprise when the depth went from two meters to none and we suddenly were stopped as the keel crisply crunched into coral. We were able to back off quickly and then took the time to look at the chart in our guidebook more closely and post someone (me) on the bow. By 8 a.m., we were safely anchored in one meter of water. It wouldn’t seem possible, but the water appeared to be even more clear than it was at Lighthouse Reef. Not even bothering to tidy up on deck, we got out our snorkel gear, ready to explore. 

Cayo Norte

We had watched a Mexican coast guard cutter motor in to the cay after we anchored. Shalako and I were already in the water and off to check the anchor when a small boat with six military personnel approached. Peter motioned us back. The boat came alongside as we hauled ourselves out of the water. Two young and smiling men in full camouflage uniforms came on board to check our passports and papers. They complimented me on my Spanish and were very friendly. After telling us that we could not harvest any fish, lobster or conch in the area because it is a preserve, they laughed when I explained that I am a vegetarian and the guys on board are dependent on me for meals.

The three of us went for a quick swim after the coast guard departed. The bottom was marl with a thin coating of soft sand, so the anchor was not dug in well, but it was safe. There were a lot of little fish to see, but no coral. 

After Peter and Shalako rested some more and we ate lunch, we moved the boat in order to chart our way out and to re-anchor closer to the patch reefs. The coast guard cutter was leaving its dock and waited for us to get under way and then led us on a path out through the reefs.

The anchor had probably not even settled in when I was back in the water, soon followed by Shalako and Peter. The patch reefs with their wide variety of colors and patterns of coral and sponges were amazing. In the sand between outcroppings, there were an enormous number of large conch. Floating above them, we could observe them lift themselves off the bottom and crawl along the sand, which was covered with their tracks. In addition to all the usual fish, there were a few nurse sharks, a French angelfish and a queen angelfish. Most impressive were the silvery ocean triggerfish in loose schools; we have only ever seen them before while snorkeling as solitary creatures. 

I actually made soup from scratch for dinner rather than a packaged meal, and afterwards we played dominos before an early bedtime. Peter had set the anchor alarm since the bottom did not provide good holding and the wind was picking up again, asking us to be alert (in our sleep!) for the beeping. Well, he and Shalako fell asleep readily, but his warning made me anxious, so I played solitary anagram for a while until the wind settled into sixteen knots and I was sure we were not moving.

Thursday, April 2

We were all up early as we had a long day of sailing ahead of us. We had the anchor up before 7 a.m. The wind was light and behind us, so, after sailing for a couple of hours, we replaced the genoa with our blue and red spinnaker. We were helped by a current of two knots, so we made good progress. At 1 p.m. we lowered the spinnaker, jibed to a port tack and sailed on a beam reach to the entrance to Bahia del Espiritu Santo. We passed some very shallow spots making our way to the lee side of Owen’s Island, an uninhabited green place with pretty beaches on its shores. The wind is back to 15 knots, so it is good that we dropped anchor in this sheltered place around 5 p.m.

Friday, April 3

It was just another beautiful day in paradise:  temperatures in the 80’s, green islands fringed with white sand beaches, an almost cloudless sky, and turquoise water all around. At 9 a.m., with 10 knots of wind from the south, we pulled up anchor in Bahia del Espiritu and headed out to sea. I spotted the first turtle when I went on bow watch, and then we were surrounded with turtles zooming by in various directions in the shallow water, one off the port, two off the starboard side, more aft, one crossing the bow. They were so swift and graceful. Shalako had never seen them in the ocean before, so he was particularly thrilled.

It was literally touch and go as we motored in the shallow bay; we moved forward at a slow speed with only a foot or two under the keel until we came to a soft halt twice, touching the bottom, backing off and going again in another direction, weaving our way out to sea.

Back out in the Caribbean Sea, we sailed north not far off the coast. With 2 knots of current aiding us, we were able to average 8 knots. Around 2 p.m., we dropped the main and headed into Bahia de la Ascension. Passing the reef was easy; the challenge was making our way across yet another shallow bay to an anchorage. A bow watch was useless as the water was a milky, translucent pale blue-green. Luckily, we made it to the most northern of the Culebra Cays with no problems, watching the magnificent frigate birds soar all around us while pelicans and cormorants floated on the surface and dolphins swam by.

North Culebra Cay

Even though visibility was nil, we decided to swim to an inviting beach on the island. I jumped in first and found that there was a strong current. Kicking hard, I had trouble making forward progress for more than a short distance and as soon as I stopped kicking I was swept back along the hull. I changed my mind. At least it was nice to be in the water and then shower afterwards. 

About an hour before sunset, Peter decided to go in the water. The current had abated a bit but was still strong. Since I was clean and dressed, I decided not to join him. After checking the anchor, he set off with his strong crawl stroke for shore. I watched him get there and wade up on the beach. He spent a little while looking around and then stood on the edge of the water, looking out at the boat. Finally, he waded out and put on his gear, but even then he did not start swimming back right away. When he did begin stroking forward, he made fast progress, aided by the current, I assumed.

Indeed, the current did assist him, but what really propelled him was his fear of being pursued by an alligator! He was on the beach when he saw an alligator watching him from the water with its head and upper body sticking out of the water. The alligator was nearly between him and the boat. Tentatively, he got deeper in the water while contemplating whether to return to shore, climb a tree and signal for us to bring the kayak to rescue him. At last, he made a get-away, worrying the whole time that the alligator was following him but not wanting to slow down to find out! He made it, but it is still a question whether he was courageous or fool-hardy in his attempt.

Every day, we still listen to the Northern Caribbean Net. The situation is even more uncertain in Belize than it was a few days ago. Those who are still hoping to get into the Rió Dulce in Guatemala for hurricane center are still waiting, but Guatemala has no date for opening its borders. The authorities in Belize are not issuing exit zarpes to go to countries with closed borders, which is just about everywhere except Mexico, and they are not being cooperative about extending visas and clearance, so the cruisers still in Belize legally can’t leave and legally can’t stay! Meanwhile, park authorities have closed the national parks and marine reserves and are asking boaters to leave those areas, which include a large portion of the cays and atolls offshore. Many are hesitant to be on the coast because the authorities might choose at any time to restrict all movement in Belize waters, eliminating the option to leave. We left illegally, as did a few other boats, and it seems that others will need to do so also.

Because we do not have an exit zarpe from Belize and do not plan to check into Mexico in order to maintain at least a two week self-quarantine on the boat before arriving in Florida, Peter is behaving like a fugitive. Personally, I don’t think the Mexican authorities are going to bother us as long as we stay on board and let them know we are in transit. Peter has vague concerns about the authorities and so plans to avoid anchoring anywhere near the port authorities, which rules out anchorages on our way north. On his own, he would just sail directly from the southern Yucatán to Key West, not turning our AIS back on until we are in international waters, but as the admiral, I have overruled him. I believe that all the Mexican government could do is require us to check into and out of the country, which we would be doing anyway except for the pandemic. It might delay our exit to the U.S. by a couple of days, perhaps, but it would not be catastrophic.

Saturday, April 4

Before going to bed last night, we reviewed possible sailing plans. The two remote anchorages where we could have stopped on the southern tip of Cozumel and at Punta Hut on the mainland are not good in the prevailing winds, so they are not an option. We decided and re-decided until settling on leaving late this afternoon and going to Cancun, arriving Sunday morning. Based on the latest weather forecast, we will leave Monday afternoon and sail directly to the Dry Tortugas, more than a 300 nautical mile journey with two nights of sailing or motoring. I am so, so happy to have Shalako on board. He has learned everything so quickly, he doesn’t get seasick and he is willing to stand watch at night! I still do not look forward to a two to three day passage, but it will be a lot easier.

On the Net, Jade, Vela, Bad Fish and other boats we have encountered were discussing their exit plans. We may be at the forefront of a small flotilla escaping tropical paradise for Florida. They couldn’t hear us on the single sideband radio, so we sent them a telegraph-like text via InReach about Cayo Norte, hoping that helps them make plans.

As we spend the day in this slightly rocky anchorage, Peter is servicing some of the winches. I have been preparing sandwiches and snacks. I know that if Peter sees a weather opportunity, we will blow right by Cancun!

Sunday, April 5

We had a good night of sailing with no strong winds, and we did not pass Cancun by. We anchored off the north shore in the early morning, appreciating the crystalline water that e will miss once we leave the Caribbean. There was only one local boat anchored here. The miles of white sand beaches fronting enormous hotels were totally empty. No lounge chairs were out. The Mexican government has closed all hotels and restaurants and bars, so Cancun as well as other tropical destination will be missing the Spring Break crowds. 

Empty hotels and beaches in Cancun

During the day, Peter did some electrical work and switched back to the newer autopilot. We have found that the 20+ year old one does not do well in following seas. Its response time is too slow. Other than that, it was a lazy day. A few jet skis zoomed by; some locals must be enjoying having the place to themselves. After sunset, as we gazed toward the shore, we saw that the windows representing thousands of hotel accommodations were all dark. The only lights on shore were emergency stairway and security lights. 

Monday, April 6

We are no longer in leisure mode; we are on a mission to get home. We will pull up anchor later this morning and set off on a two day journey to the Dry Tortugas off the Florida Keys. After staying there one night, we will continue on to Key West and check in to the country. We hope to get some provisions, but the entire area is in lockdown. I know that we cannot go into a marina; they are all closed to transients. And we will have to figure out some way to get Shalako to an airport.

As the weather allows, we will make our way up the east coast to the Chesapeake Bay a little early than originally planned, stopping when State and local regulations allow us to do so. We will be traveling in the end of winter weather.

It’s strange to think that we will have made the decision to increase our risk of infection from COVID-19 by returning to the States. We are safer in the northwest Caribbean than we will be at home. However, Shalako needs to get back to his wife Patty, and we would like to be home with Katya and to have Internet. And so, as the Blues Brothers said, we are on a “mission from God.”

Tuesday, April 7

Yesterday, we raised anchor at 10 a.m. and set off with pleasant winds and a current to help us.  The highlight of the day was half dozen barn swallows arriving; they flew around checking out the possible accommodations and chose to hunker down in the sail cover. We saw cargo ships and tankers and one big monster that we could not identify. We contacted them by radio to verify our course and then asked what type of vessel they were and learned that the ship was an oil rig transport. The sun set just after the rig transporter crossed in front of us, painting the cumulus clouds to the west a lovely shade of pink. The sun itself glowed like a red-hot furnace above the edge of the water; it was almost too bright to look at.

Peter, Shalako and I took turns taking brief naps in the evening, and I stayed up until it was apparent that Peter would remain on deck. We had already put the lee sheets up on the sides of our bed, so I spent the night on our nice percale sheets. It would have been nicer if they had been washed recently, but we have done no laundry for two weeks to conserve water.

Today, our speed decreased as the wind abated and the current provided less assistance. In the middle of the afternoon we had to haul in the genoa and turn to the “iron genny,” the diesel engine. Fortunately, we have an abundant supply of fuel. We were on the radio with another boat heading to Florida and learned that they are low on fuel, so they are using the wind and current as much as they can before they are forced to turn on the ignition. Because we don’t want the current to hinder us (It flows west in some places.), we cannot head directly toward the Dry Tortugas. Of the three hundred miles for this passage, we still have over one hundred to travel. We have been lucky with calm seas.

Earlier today, bottlenose dolphins frolicked on the bow. Watching them play broke up the tedium. I have played gin rummy with Peter while he was awake today and backgammon with Shalako after his long afternoon sleep. The nights are cool, making it possible to spend time down below, and I actually cooked dinner tonight—nothing exotic, just pepper jack grilled cheese sandwiches and sliced cucumbers. 

Dolphins off the bow

Night has settled in and a round, white moon hangs above the eastern horizon and will provide illumination most of the night.

Wednesday, April 8

We are no longer in the tropics, having crossed the Tropic of Cancer around midnight of Tuesday night. We had light but favorable wind yesterday, but it died down and at 3 a.m. this morning and we had to begin motoring, with the reefed main up for stability. 

When I came on deck this morning, the surface of the sea was shining like satin. It looked as if we were in the middle of a giant circular pane of old lead glass, consistently a rich blue, although in the early hours of sunlight, there were hints of pink among the undulating ripples. 

The view in all directions

We spotted dolphins a few times, but only one group came to play in the bow wake. All in all, it was an uneventful day. 

I ran out of books to read about a week ago, so I am re-reading a book of Scottish sea stories. Shalako has sudoku on his iPad and I borrow it to while away the hours sometimes. Peter is keeping busy learning how to do celestial navigation using our sextant.

We have anchored in the Dry Tortugas at 5 p.m. The enormous red brick, six-sided Fort Jefferson on Garden Key was impressive but we could only look at it from our boat. It would also be interesting to visit the rookeries on some of the other keys. Alas, the park is closed, and we are still self-quarantined (since March 24).

Fort Jefferson

Thursday, April 9

There were a few pleasure boats around as we approached the mainland, and tankers and cargo ships were going about their business in the Gulf of Mexico for the last couple of days. Starting this morning, there has been more VHF radio traffic also, mainly the US Coast Guard communicating with pleasure boats needing assistance. The wind was 5 knots or less, so we had to use the engine again.

Our provisions are dwindling, although we are in no danger of starvation. This afternoon, we finished all the water in one of the 200 gallon tanks. We switched the feed to the other tank; at this rate of consumption, we can continue without going into a dock for fresh water or needing to collect rain water for another 18 days at the same level of consumption (11 gallons for three people per day). That is a good thing, because there has been no rain in over a month, I think, and there is no precipitation in the short-term forecast. Until we get to the mainland, we will not know if there are any marinas open for transients to dock or take on water.

We anchored off Cottrell Key in the late afternoon in shallow water. I went for a snorkel. There were only small patch reefs in the rippled white sand. The coral provided the only color; the fish were all silvery and large, mostly snappers and jacks. We have left behind most of the tropical fish with their bright colors and interesting patterns as well as the large coral reefs off the coasts of Belize and the Yucatan. I will miss them!

Anchoring near sunset

The tide dropped and we had less than a foot of water under the keel, so we re-anchored as the sun was setting. Tomorrow is the big day—we will be on land for the first time since March 24.

Shalako plans to fly out of Key West if that is possible. For the first time, we will be putting ourselves in danger from Covid-19. 

Shalako, an able helmsman

Friday, April 10

We are now anchored west off Fleming Island at Key West. We have been cleared by Customs and Immigration, but we have to wait until tomorrow morning to get a cruising permit at the airport.  Shalako will fly back to Sacramento in the afternoon.