Coronavirus

At anchor in Culebra 

At first I thought what an ideal place to be, our own private boat, during a viral pandemic. Indeed, natural barriers provide for social distancing.  But it turns out that we basically can’t go anywhere because so many countries are closing their borders.  We are stuck in paradise.

We are anchored in a natural harbor on the island of Culebra, 20 miles east of Puerto Rico.  The town dock is a short dinghy ride away, but there are no services like showers, dockside power or a even water hose. We have been able to get essentials by making four trips to the tiny grocery store, ferrying 80 gallons of water in jugs out to the boat (filled up at the sink of the closed waterfront bar) and finding the personal cell phone of the propane guy.  We have made connections with the cast of characters and old salts who live here on boats.  But other than that the whole place is shut down.  Throughout Puerto Rico, of which Culebra is a part, there is a 9pm curfew, but here in Culebra we’re told to get off streets by 6 and grocery store owner was telling us we were a at risk of getting arrested when we showed up at his store (which he was just locking up) at 5:30p.  No restaurants or bars are open, no tourists come by ferry from Puerto Rico or stay in what might be little hotels, none of the usual golf cart rentals to get to the further away, larger grocery store.  And there is not much point in going to Puerto Rico given that all the marinas are closed.  It would be harder to provision the boat there than at the slightly more expensive stores here.

By our original schedule (one of the most dangerous things on a boat) we should have already begun what was intended to be a 6 week passage through the Bahamas towards home. But with countries one after another closing their borders this past week we decided not to go. The concern is that there are 4 days sailing between us and the southernmost of the islands and they could close the border while we were en route. We would be forced to continue sailing on to Florida which is a LONG WAY during a season in which cold fronts roll of the US east coast once or twice a week.  Not being allowed to stop in the Bahamas and wait for cold fronts to pass would make for a very uncomfortable trip.  And looming on the other side of the Bahamas is the Gulf Stream which is dangerous.  We would have to find some way to wait for weather.

I was considering a plan go south of Puerto Rico then do a one-day hop into the Dominican Republic, sail up to the port of Luperon and do a one-day hop to Bahamas. That plan would reduce the likelihood that borders would close en route. That option became no longer viable within a day of conception when Noonsite announced closure of the Dominican Republic.  

Next the Bahamas announced an 11-day curfew.  This intention of this rule, per the Bahamas Land and Sea Facebook page, is to limit inter-island travel by cruising boats, but there is uncertainty being expressed on the Bahamas Land and Sea Facebook page exactly how it will be interpreted. I am much happier not facing uncertainty in matters of ocean sailing.  The wise assumption is that “If it can, it will.”

A more comfortable plan is to stay here until May at which time I will sail Gryphon to the US east coast. The decision then becomes whether Kate and the kids will sail with me on a10-day offshore passage.  We have never done more than a single overnight and all three of them are prone to seasickness, potentially leading to malnutrition and dehydration on a long passage.  I might be better off singlehanded than having to care for them.  On the other hand people often get past seasickness and they are not eager for air travel.  We have time to decide that.

We could also change our minds and go up through the Bahamas once things open up again.  We would need to transit much faster than we had intended.  We would need to make that decision promptly once things opened up and I am not sure I would want to sustain the level of readiness necessary before a passage.  Things get very intense for me prior to departure.  I would not be able to enjoy the time in Culebra between now and then.  

Complicating things further, The State Dept has issued a Level 4 advisory for Americans to come home or plan to stay abroad for extended time. The language of the advisory suggests flights may stop. For some reason they don’t address the implications for boaters! Our questions include:

1. Is this just written because flights may stop, or because they will close border?

2.  Are we considered in US when in PR or will we be treated like we are coming from a foreign port upon return to US?

3. Would we be more likely to subject ourselves to quarantine if we go home via Bahamas?

4. If Kate and kids do not want to do passage should they fly home now? We do not want to split up family, do not want to expose them to travel and do not want to send Kate&kids home right before an expected spike in cases. It may not even be an option—I tried to book flights from PR to Mpls on the Delta app today and could not. 

The State Department order seems to be causing some element of panic to return to the US.  Kate and I are believing the opinion of my friend’s son who is the Captain of a megayacht with 20 years experience (another cruiser said “those guys know”). Anyway he tells us that a US flagged vessel cannot be denied entry into a US state or territory.  The panic over the State Dept advisory, however, seems to have people trying to sail home.  The Salty Dawg Sailing Association, who organized the rally I did to come down her, is proposing options.  It may be a safe and comfortable trip to sail downwind, alongside the Bahamas, in late April.  That might be a way to sail home all four of us together.  I wonder if they would quarantine us upon arrival and may need to allow time for that.  I might also be able to argue that I was quarantined while sailing and need to get home to provide essential medical services.

Long and short of it is that we are not going anywhere soon  We are in the best place we can be. Most likely will sail from here to US as family. If we need to wait til June for settled weather so be it and work will probably understand.

The enjoyment of our trip is still intact.  None of us are sick. The travel adjustments dictated by the viral epidemic is real life, the same reality to which we have become closer connected through this way of life. It would be nice if we were at one of the beautiful beaches or reefs right around the corner, but we came back to anchor next to town to provision and the curfew rules do not allow us to move. But it is also helpful to dinghy over to other boats to share information and strategies and to be close to town where cell service is better.  If our parents were sick we’d feel pulled to return, but they are behaving themselves by STAYING AT HOME.   It’s a day by day. 

Nanny Cay by Ruby

Nanny Cay is a great place to visit because people are friendly, you can get boat fixed, fun for kids.  When you come into Nanny Cay there are two marinas — the old and the new.  The new marina has better wifi at the dock.  The old marina is closer to the pool.  There is also a special chair by the bathrooms you can get internet.  Directions to the pool from the old marina are when you get in your dock slip turn right, keep walking, go over the bridge. After the bridge you will see a low tree and a path and you will eventually see the pool.  When you get to the pool there is a bar and restaurant.  If you want a burger the burger on the kids’ menu is very small.  I recommend ordering from the adult menu if you want a big dinner.  There are also swings over by a really cool tree.  I recommend go on errands with your parents because most of the stores have air conditioning like Arawak, the grocery store and Budget Marine.  Nanny Cay also has lots of animals like cats and chickens. They like to roam around the neighborhood. There is also a hotel if you want a break from your boat. 

Leif’s block and tackle video

Leif’s video of how a block and tackle works

People we meet

The people we meet continue to enrich the experience of this trip.  For a while we hung out with the crew of Zipporrah who’d been members of our yacht club in Minnesota but who I only met when Doug and I entered a single-handed race to Bermuda. In Antigua they became our Exploding Kittens playmates and twice took our kids for overnights. Ruby considers them a “kid boat,” something few people would recognize. Then in Pointe-a-Pitre we struck up a conversation at the dinghy dock with a Swiss family on a 33’ steel boat, Laya, and kept bumping into them, leading to a friendship.  Their daughter is only three but Ruby still looked forward to playing with her. Both of us were meandering at the same leisurely pace so we were able to spend time with Laya at several subsequent anchorages.  Most recently we parted from Ramble Too who’s crew is a family of four cruising with grandpa for a year.  Their 8-year-old daughter and Ruby soon became BFF’s (best friends forever) and made chicken sounds to each other. We parted with them because they are having a family of 5 come to stay on the boat with them, and their boat is not much bigger than ours. 

Now that we have entered the BVI suddenly the people I meet are not fellow cruisers but staff on boats.  Charter boats dominate the scene here and it seems that the experience, especially the pace, of people on charter boats yields a much different experience.  Despite a couple attempts I have not forged any connections with charterers. Instead we met Sebastian, the captain of a 56’ charter catamaran when he dinghied over with leftover chicken paiaya.  We met Billy, a deckhand on the 105’ charter sailboat Crossbow, when he helped me rescue Leif after he capsized our sailing dinghy.  I met Ben, the captain of the chartered catamaran Soterion, when he came over to ask me about Gryphon.  I briefly met a young woman crewing on a 256’ megayacht after they invited Ruby and Leif to play with their child on an inflatable slide at the beach. I casually asked if it was a charter but she let me know it was private. That’s big money. 

These people working on boats often started out as cruisers.  They share the longitudinal experience of living on a boat.  They are living the life rather than having a flash-in-the-pan, rum soaked vacation.  They share with us good spots to anchor and understand that we are short of good food and probably short on beer.  It is not a novelty to them when they hear the sound of my drill.  They simply understand our situation more than the charterers. Nothing against the energy of vacationers. I was once a charterer as unprepared as anyone. But now I live here. We have a day-to-day routine with homeschooling and boat jobs. I am not on vacation. I still have to floss every night. 

At Nanny Cay (a marina in the BVI) I ran into all the people I met while fixing up Gryphon after Hurricane Irma. From the point when Richard was there to catch my dock lines it felt like a homecoming. I could hardly walk anywhere without stopping to catch up with someone I knew.