Adventures In Belize - Day Four

Sunday, October 14, 2012

     A day much like Saturday, our second day at Hatchett Cay. Waking up as the first light began to brighten the glass hatch and ports of our cabin, I got up and climbed out on deck to watch the sun rise out of the sea at 5:45. It is delightful to be reminded just how pleasant just sitting and observing the evolution of the day can be.
    I noticed one of the Hatchett Cay workers sitting quietly in the dock house, watching the sunrise as I was. Pelicans appeared from wherever pelicans spend their nights, and began to patrol the shallow waters close to the cay, looking for breakfast. The clouds displayed an evolving minimalist symphony of colors, shapes, and movement. They changed from dark shapes rimmed with silver, the highest cumulonimbus tops first turning pink, then peach, and then at least fifty shades of gray and white as the sun climbed higher.

    A finch with bright yellow feathers on each side of its tail flip-tipped its wings and stopped for a moment's rest on the jib sheet before flitting off again. A few dozen little silver fish, each no more than two inches long leaped out of the water and plunged back in again simultaneously, their bright sides flashing in the early morning sunlight. A few minutes later I saw them leap again, this time synchronous with the leap of a three foot long barracuda in hungry pursuit.

     All six of the group scrambled into the dinghy after breakfast for a trip back to the cay. Donning swim fins, masks and snorkels, we all floated again above the graceful sea fans, coral, and multitudes of fish for an hour, and then walked around the tiny island. 

     This time we stopped on the invitation of the manager to climb stairs three stories to a lookout tower on the top of the main building, where we had a beautiful 360 degree view of Hatchett Cay and other cays scattered in the distance.
    After lunch back on board Jane and I motored over to the dock for one more dive session before coming back to spend the night at the same mooring. Late in the evening (which means about eight o'clock when cruising!) the cloudy sky cleared, and Jane, Sheila, Mary Ann and I went out of the forward deck to look for stars and constellations.

      The Big Dipper was too low to see, but Cassiopeia was high in the sky, pointing the general direction to the North Star that hovered, just barely visible only sixteen degrees above the horizon. Cygnus had its wings spread across the Milky Way, which arced high overhead horizon to horizon. As we looked at Jupiter high in the western sky a meteor flashed briefly orange against the blue-black sky.

Adventures In Belize - Day Three

Saturday, October 13, 2012

    Heavy swells and a strong wind kept "Lovely Cruise" rocking from side to side most of the night. Sunrise this morning was at 5:45, and when I came up on deck a few minutes later the sun was just above the low vegetation of Wippari Cay, turning the whole expanse of eastern sky tangerine orange. The sun itself was thinly veiled by a narrow veil of heavy rain falling in the distance.

    Eventually everyone was up for a leisurely breakfast of bacon and eggs. We got on the VHF radio briefly to report our position to the Sunsail base, and cast off from the mooring sometime between nine-thirty and ten.
    We headed back south along yesterday's track with the wind at our backs for a short distance before turning due east and setting a course for Moho Cay, a few miles off. There were several times when we slowed to ease our way cautiously through much shallower water where coral banks approached the surface. 

      Passing just north of Moho we came to a wide stretch of open unobstructed water, and finally hoisted the main, unfurled the jib, and turned off the engines to sail on a close reach across the north winds.
    The weather was improved considerably over yesterday's, the seas and winds both diminished to comfortable levels, with mostly sunny skies. We dropped the sails as we neared Hatchett Cay, swinging around to approach it from the south, and easily picked up the mooring ball on the sheltered southeast side of the island.

     Hatchett Cay is small. John and I took the dinghy and motored over to the dock, a few hundred yards from our mooring. We tied up next to the large open sided dock house that marked the end of a long low pier. In the clear shallow water below the pier we could see patches of white sand and expanses of coral. We walked to the foot of the pier where there was an immaculate little cottage nestled beneath small coconut palms on the very edge of a narrow white sand beach at the edge of the water.
    A red concrete pathway meandered off both to the right and left. We turned left and strolled along past coconut palms, hibiscus, plumeria, and other bright blooming flowers. Passing several other cottages at the edge of the water, we came to an elevated deck under the palms, with a bar at its edge. A workman was on hands and knees, varnishing the weathered hardwood. He informed us that neither the bar nor the restaurant was open, and that they were getting ready for the start of the season. On October 17th they planned to reopen the bar and small restaurant, and the cottages should be ready for guests the following week. I realized that the dates coincided with the projected end of the hurricane season.
    We continued our walk, winding around the windward side of the cay, where wind-whipped waves surged across the shallow waters to splash mini-surf along the beaches. A total of perhaps ten minutes walking brought us around the entire circumference of the island and back to the pier where the dinghy was tied. We climbed on and made out way back to the catamaran to report our findings.
    Sheila, Mary Ann, and Jane all wanted to go see the coral formations near shore so the three of them, John, and I loaded masks, fins, and snorkeling gear into the inflatable dinghy, and we motored the hundred and fifty yards to the end of the dock on the lee side of the cay.

 

    A lower section at the edge of the dock provided a good place to tie up and unload, and there was a ladder down into the water to make it easy to climb back out again.

     The windward side of the island and out in deeper water where the catamaran was moored had an incredible amount of garbage drifting past, both on the surface and underwater, but the lee side seemed to be clear. 

      Floating on the surface of the warm, clear water we looked down ten or twelve feet to a spectacular landscape of sea fans and soft corals, waving gently back and forth as the small waves passed many feet above them.
    The soft corals looked almost like brown velveteen many branched plants, and on close examination revealed that the fuzzy appearance was the presence of thousands of individual coral polyps all living together as a growing, living colony.

     The sea fans, each anywhere from six to as much as twenty-four inches tall, and often a bit wider, reminded me of delicate Belgian lacework. Some were a light gray, some were brilliant purple. Only a few fish were visible as we swam slowly on the surface, but we soon discovered that if we stopped moving and floated motionless, more and more fish would appear from hiding places in the reef. Hundreds of colorful fish of all kinds darted about between and under the fans, nibbling at the bottom, patrolling territories, chasing each other, or wandering through the coral forest.

     After swimming we all climbed back up on the dock to sit on the long rattan couch in the shady dock house for awhile before climbing back into the dinghy for the short trip back to "Lovely Cruise". 

     In the evening we sat on deck to watch the sun set behind distant banks of clouds.

Adventures In Belize - Day Two

Friday, October 12, 2012
    To say that it rained several times during the night would be like comparing the flow of the Mississippi to the flow of a creek. Thunder rumbled, the wind whistled through the rigging, and the rain dashing down against the fiberglass deck and sides of the boat sounded as if someone had focused the stream of a fire hose on us. Loud, but steady, the white noise lulled us back to sleep as it tapered off.

    At about a quarter to six the light began to brighten the glass hatch directly over my head. I slipped into a pair of shorts and padded softly up to the deck. The sun was just rising behind towering cumulonimbus clouds to the east, highlighting the edges of their cauliflower tops with brilliant silver. I strolled down the deserted concrete dock where other thirty-eight foot and forty-eight foot catamarans sat empty.

    Where the dock ended there was a little sandy cove where a small heron sat on a low mangrove branch, watching for breakfast to come to him. Beyond, a dense thicket of mangroves stretched off along the shoreline. I waded into the clear water with silent apologies to the bird, who flapped off to look for a more solitary fishing hole.      

    The water was only a bit less than body temperature, cool on entering, but feeling sensuously warm once in. After a short dip, I wandered back to the still deserted marina building, where I found open bathrooms with warm showers where I washed off the salt before heading back to our catamaran, the "Lovely Cruise".

   Nobody else was yet awake, although it was close to seven o'clock. I went back to bed for a short snooze, waking a little later to the enticing smell of coffee brewing. One by one the others appeared, and we ate a leisurely breakfast at the table on the stern deck together.
    At half past nine, we were met at the boat by our Sunsail mentor for a walk around briefing on lines, halyards, reef-points, diesel engines, water and waste systems, and all the various mechanical things we needed to know about the boat.

    By ten-forty-five we had started the dual engines, and the marina pilot had slid the catamaran out of its slip, made a sharp right turn, and threaded the narrow slot to open water. He stepped off into the hard- bottomed Zodiac that had been shadowing us, waved good-bye, and we were on our own at last.

    The captain's chair, a bench big enough for two people side by side, sits high at the front edge of the stern deck, looking over the top of the salon cabin. Next to the ship's wheel there GPS chart plotter and a vertical bank of instruments that show information about wind speed and direction, depth, and speed of the boat. There is also a floating magnetic compass and the controls for the auto pilot.
    The Sunsail base is on a narrow spit of land facing a shallow lagoon, and we had to steer carefully from way-point to X-marked way-point for the first half hour to stay in water deep enough to allow passage. We eventually passed all eleven marked way-points, reaching the open water between the mainland and the barrier reef far offshore.
    In addition to the GPS chart plotter we had been given updated paper charts and two inch thick Cruising Guide to Belize and Mexico's Caribbean Coast, with specific cays and hazardous obstructions charted in greater detail. Our first encounter on our route toward the north east became apparent as a broad area of lighter blue water that marked a bank of coral reef very close to the surface. We adjusted course slightly to motor along parallel to it, soon leaving it behind as we approached Lark Cay.
    As we cleared the north end of the cay we could see the small green patch of trees that stuck up from Logger Cay and South Long Cocoa Cays a few miles behind that. Safely past Logger Cay and its surrounding coral heads, we altered course a bit more to the east.

      There were many spots where we became more cautious as we observed areas where the water was a much lighter shade of blue, marking shallower water. At one point we slowed the engines and proceeded with extreme watchfulness as the depth meter numbers went from over a hundred feet to forty, then twenty, and eventually a bit less than ten feet before passing over the submerged reef and passing into deeper water again.

    We took a wide curving course around the spot marked on the charts as Viper Rocks, swinging to the north and then the northwest as we approached Wippari Cay, our destination for the day. The seas had been running five to eight feet since morning, so it was a relief to be approaching a mooring.

    As we covered the last quarter mile, the dark wall of clouds that had been gathering to the north began to sweep toward us, and it began to rain. It was only a sprinkle at first, but quickly increased to heavy rain as the wind speed increased.
    We eased up on the mooring buoy, but the wind veered the bow at the last minute, and we could not retrieve the mooring line. Turning in wide circle we came around again, heading into the wind that was now blowing harder. The rain fall turned into a violent deluge, beating down the crests of the waves as nearby bolts of lightning added to our anxiety and urgency. The next attempt to snag the mooring line with a boat hook was successful. 

      By the time all lines had been secured and the engines turned off everyone was soaked and taking gleeful showers under the cascades of fresh water gushing off the edges of the hard roof covering the stern deck. 

     That is, all except Ruth. I found her sitting on the deck next to one of the benches, holding a washcloth to her left shin. Blood was seeping through the cloth.
    As the heavy downpour had started, Ruth had begun to make her way toward the shelter of the inside cabin. As the boat pitched and rolled, she grabbed a hand hold for balance. Unfortunately the handle was on the sliding glass door, which was not locked in place. It slid, and Ruth fell to the deck, lacerating her leg on something as she went down.
    I examined the wound, which was almost four inches long, and deep enough that the sides were separated by at least a quarter of an inch. I tried to pull the edges together with some adhesive tape that someone handed me, but it was soaked, and would not stick. I got some paper towels and applied gentle pressure to slow the bleeding while others searched for the first aid kit. Jane found some regular band-aids, and Sheila came up with a gauze bandage that had an adhesive edge all around it. John found in his emergency supplies a tiny bottle of super-glue gel.
    I removed the ineffective tape, one strip at a time, blotted the gash until it was dry at the edges, and gently pulling the two sides together, applied the super-glue gel to the cut. I cut one of Jane's band-aids in half the long way, and placed it tight across the middle of the wound to hold it closed. I applied the super-glue gel to the upper half of the cut, and then covered the whole thing with the large adhesive bandage that Sheila had supplied. Ruth said that she felt fine an hour later.
    I have no recollection of what we ate for dinner that evening, but everyone was in bed before eight thirty. Distance covered today: 17.3 miles.