Cruiser's Stories - Volume 10
Welcome to the SaltySailors.com cruiser's story pages. Many cruiser's
are sharing their adventures....
to
arms to arms
a troll is on the loose!
by Howell Cooper, s/v Why Knot
All boaters, but especially sailors have a bit of a problem yet to be
completely defined. Perhaps it is something we all accept, especially
cruisers “out there” for extended periods of time. After much study,
and more than a few recent incidents, I have actually determined the
problem to be a Troll.
I speak of that little dirt bag that has a secret locker, known only
to himself, in which he retreats with that item you just laid down
whilst working on a project. He does take some pity on the crew in
times of peril, but he is merciless at the dock. More to the point, he
is merciless to the male in the crew.
I am not sure if he challenges the younger sailors quite a much as
those of us who fit into the tastier crowd, those of us who, from time
to time, may have an adult beverage whilst repairing some tedious little
gizmo deep in a locker through which we know we can make only one
attempt before the knees or back locks up. You know the locker; we all
have at least one where you get one shot and one shot only to attach the
dooderflaam to the quirkwhirler. You have deftly staged the former on a
ledge you can only reach one time. You take a break, have some water,
wipe your brow and dive in only to find the item in question has been
stolen by --- Little Prick, the Troll. That’s what our Troll is called.
He scurries around at the speed of light hiding stuff you saw not two
minutes ago. I have decided that Little Prick came with the boat,
ensconced in a locker he built somewhere just after the boat wrights
took off one afternoon. He is a clever Little Prick. Even they did not
know the location of the lair.
I am equally convinced Little Prick likes to work on the frustration
quotient by occasionally leaving the item where my mate can find it
easily. I just looked there, says I. You must be blind, says she when
she hands the part to me. I can look for hours for a tool and she can
find it on one pass through the cabin. Little Prick waits until I pass
then pops out of one of his passageways with an invisible trap door at
the speed of blink to leave the part before my mate. I am sure he does
this at the speed of blink so that my mate does not see him do it. She
thinks I have lost my mind.
Little Prick is a menace and I suspect he is part of a greater
conspiracy to get us. If I ever catch him, I will force him through my
Baja filter then throw him in the diesel tank for further processing.
Only then, will I truly be the master of Why Knot.
by
Yvonne Cameron, s/v Usquaebach
Have to tell the story of Lighthouse Reef. Before arriving
there we were in Cucumber Beach Marina south of Belize City. Left
there headed to Water Caye. Got to Water Caye
then the starter motor decided
 to catch fire. Never fun, but we
dealt with it. A tow from a
great guy we’d met in Cucumber got us back to their docks.
Miracles of miracles, we got the starter rebuilt and were back to Water
Cay within 24 hours.
Met s/v Kaija’s Song at Goffs Caye about noon. Dinghied to the Caye,
had a thunderstorm or two, dinner aboard, said our farewells and were
off to Lighthouse Reef at first light. Great Sail – hello, sail
only- to Tureneffe. Then had to motor sail east, slightly north
east to get to Lighthouse.
If I knew then what I know now I would have been too chicken to have
attempted to get into Lighthouse Reef atoll. But others had done
it successfully, so what the hey, so could we. The entrance was
not even close to what the guide books said. All we had were way
points we had been given several years ago by a sailor we didn’t really
know who had been there before us. And just as we were about to
make the commitment to enter, we started getting faulty readings from
our depth sounder. Right, just what you need….wrong! We
pulled out the hand held depth sounder and by then the on board depth
sounder had settled down so we “sailed on”, with only a few white
knuckles.
To get in you line up the outside wreck with the inside wreck (what does
this tell you…there’s a clue here) then you head east and a little
south, then at some magical way point you turn left for about a quarter
of a mile then turn right for about a quarter of a mile then proceed
south till you get to the far east side of Half Moon Caye. Right,
you got it…east, a little north, a little east, and then a soft curve
toward the south. Well, whatever, we made it past the
affectionately named “coral garden" where there is only 3 ft. of water
and trust me you could see the coral heads quite clearly. What you
couldn’t see was where the deep water was.
We made it past all the really bad stuff and were slowly, very slowly
moving toward the beach; I am calling out the depths, 7 ft. & holding,
7 ft. & holding, 6 feet & holding, 6 feet & holding, 5 ft.! – time to
stop! Which it was, cause that’s when we went “crunch”. Oh
@#!*, we’re on a coral head! Not on the dangerous reef, just not a
soft bottom like the Chesapeake. I only heard that crunch once in
over 2000 nautical miles, but I just knew I’d hate that sound when it
came…So, Don is going to kedge us off, is lowering the dink when the
Ranger for Half Moon Caye comes on the VHF. “Sail boat off Half
Moon Caye, what are your intensions.” I pick up the hand held and
say, “what did you say?” He asks me to identify the vessel, which
I did. Again he asks our intension and he points out that we’re in
a protected Belize marine reserve. “Yes sir” I reply “please stand
by” at which time I hand the radio to “Captain Don." Don tells
him: “our intensions are to anchor here as soon as I get free of the
bottom, we are aground sir." No big whoop from the Ranger, he just
says, “ok, sorry I wasn’t at the station when you were coming in, would
have told you you were in shallow waters." Great, now you tell us!
We had tried to hail them for info. earlier.
Don rows the dinghy to the bow and I have to let the big anchor down
slowly into the dink. Don reminds me that he wants the anchor in
the dinghy, not through the bottom of the dinghy! She’s a heavy sucker
but I did manage to lower her gently and Don rows it out a few yards and
plants it to port. Back on the boat he attempts to kedge us off,
no luck. He could have tried again but must have thought it would
not work. He calls the Ranger and asks for assistance. The
very cordial Ranger says, “no problem I’ll launch a boat right away.”
And so they came, the Ranger, his young son, and 4 other able bodied sea
men. Their first attempt was a no go. Their second attempt
broke their thin hawser. By now Don had secured a heavy tow line
just where he wanted it on the bow and tells them to head to port, told
me to turn the wheel hard to port as far as possible and to gun it!
Hard!...which I did and in seconds, we are off the coral head. By now
it is after 5 pm. The Ranger yells over, “please check in in the
morning" (no overtime for this crew, I am thinking). We anchor
happily in 7 ft, where we should have been in the first place and pour a
stiff one or two. One for the Captain and one for me! Though
rations were low this was no time to save the reserves.
“Well damn it," I said, “you just had to go a little further” – now I
must explain this remark was not made in a nasty way, I did say it with
a smile, “you just couldn’t anchor in 7 ft. like the guide book said,
just had to go a little further.” With a fat scotch and a happy
smile Don replied “well you know me, just had to go a little further to
see what was there.” Like I don’t know him. If it weren’t
for his curiosity, courage and tenacity, we’d never have made it as far
as we had. It was so awesomely beautiful, what’s a little crunch?
After a quick diner, we enjoyed the crystal clear water full of
bioluminescence, the velvet black sky full of stars and the sound of the
surf crashing on the reef. We were at anchor simply enjoying the
fact that we were where few people ever get to be. At 10 am the
next morning Don announces, “it’s time to go to shore and see what is
here and to find the 4000 red footed Bobbies (birds).” I figured
when we got to shore we would have to pay Sylvester the Ranger for the
tow and I had expected a fine for destroying some coral, but not so.
Met the ranger, paid our modest fee of $10 US per person, gave him a $10
dollar donation for his tow efforts, which was appreciated but not
expected and presented his son with a 2 liter bottle of orange soda.
Sylvester’s son Isaac was our guide. He took us along all the
nature trails leading to the observation deck. Once we’d climbed
the 20 steps we were above the tree tops and then let out a gasp.
There they were, hundreds of brown and red footed boobies and frigates
hanging on branch after branch in the tree tops. Just under the
canopy we saw the iguanas. Grey and green ones, just lounging on
branches with their heads into the wind. Our favorite being the
Wild Willie Iguana which are green. (Oh how we have missed Bill,
but no more so than seeing the Wild Willie Iguanas of Half Moon Caye.)
continued.... |
