Ship’s Log Week Eleven
Location: Santa Marta, Colombia - 11°14’32 N, 74°13’04 W
Six days, four sails, and a furler in a fix.
As Walrus turned due west and St Lucia started to fade into the distance the winds were light and behind us, an ideal opportunity to raise the parasailor.
To date we have had a love hate relationship with the parasailor, a beautiful vibrant blue sail with a gap stretching from one side to the other about two thirds up, creating, what looks like a beak. The parasailor is raised to the top of the forestay on a halyard and then the sail is released by pulling up a loo seat-shaped snuffer. Sometimes what seems an acre of royal blue fills with air immediately and we breathe a sigh of relief, adjust the sheets and guys and settle back to enjoy the sail.
At other times the acre of royal blue twists and turns around the forestay, with occasional dramatic, ripping sounds and flipping around the edges, as it did on this occasion. It’s at times like this that Gerald’s sanguine approach, which I assume comes from many years of veterinary practice, comes into play. His advice to watch and wait, let it settle, much like a wild or frightened animal, adjust lines and/or course little at a time, paid off and we were soon truly underway.
The challenge of snuffing Walrus’ parasailor, came two days later when forecasts of strong winds overnight led to a change of sail plan. There was, understandably, much problem-solving and tactical planning ahead of time to avoid mistakes of the past. Preparations paid off, on this occasion, with not much more than a few strategically timed tugs Dicky and Gerald’s combined efforts on the foredeck resulted in success and the loo seat descended.
It’s hard to get across the relief at moments like this.
After crossing the Atlantic ocean with barely a ship or living creature in view for weeks it had been cheering to have other yachts, with families, and crew we’d recently got to know, within sight spread out across the horizon and AIS screen ahead of us and one or two behind.
We had been advised that the sail across the Caribbean Sea to Santa Marta often proved to be the most challenging of the circumnavigation, in terms of wind speed, weather and swell. We kept a close look out for squalls on the radar and experienced several heavy downpours. Reports of an unmanned boat ahead kept us wondering about the fate of those on board and was a sanguine reminder to stay alert to risks. At times, the scale of nature’s force were all too evident as the clouds, loomed, gathered and, dispersed again, keeping us on tenterhooks.
During the course of the six-day sail to St Lucia Gerald’s ‘let’s have a go’ approach led to sails that had never seen the light of day emerging from the forward cabin. We tried a storm gib overnight… when strong winds were forecast but didn’t materialise. The result was several wet watches and, by morning we had fallen behind other WARC yachts. Nothing ventured, nothing gained.
The poled-out foresail that had worked so well for days on end across the Atlantic was a fallback position, which more or less kept us up with the rest of the fleet, as those of you have been following our progress on YB Tracker may have noticed.
The foresail is furled around the forestay at Walrus’ bow. Changing the foresail size from full sail to a part of the sail (reefing) or getting rid of the foresail altogether in favour of another sail, is achieved by winding in the furling line from a winch in the cockpit. It was at one such changeover, with Gerald on the foredeck and Dicky winching that things went awry. The furling line became taught and parted company with the forestay furler. The opportunity to fix things in exotic places continued.
Six days at sea and we were approaching the Columbian, cactus-lined coastline, the swell increased, waves appeared to tower over Walrus, and she was swept on her way as she rode the waves like a seasoned surfer. On the approach to Santa Marta marina the winds picked up strength, gusting at 28 knots plus, as forewarned.
Was this the moment to try out a fourth sail plan? We decided it was and lowered the foresail in the only way possible, in the circumstances, by hauling it down in a heap of dacron on deck, before raising the larger stay sail for the final miles.
Walrus was on her way to successfully sailing over the end of Leg One marker line between two rocks at the entrance to Santa Marta harbour. It’s a great feeling when the wind is in the sails and is in harmony with her surroundings.
Welcome to Columbia.
We received a warm welcome in Santa Marta marina, Columbia and were greeted by World ARC and IGY Marina guys ready to take our lines and secure us to the pontoon, where we could see other World ARC boats already moored and settling in. There’s a sense of camaraderie that comes from the shared experience of a challenging endeavour and we were delighted to greet Ima Ola’s family, the crew of Montana and the other yachts along D pontoon.
Immigration bureaucracy left plenty of time to debate… bar or shower? The open-air bar with its bougainvillea drenched buildings and view of pelicans swooping to steal fish from a lone fisherman gathering his nets in Santa Marta bay won the vote. One spicy margarita and two beers later (between three of us, I hasten to add) and we were starting to hatch a plan.
Marinas tend to have a bland similarity to them and it’s only once you start exploring that you get a feel for a place. The shiny new tower blocks to the right of the marina, that had taken us by surprise as we turned the rocky headland earlier that day, looked to all intents and purposes on first glance like the wealthier, downtown finance district. We had been warned that this area of Santa Marta was not safe at night and it took only a short detour into this area to experience the edginess and signs that Columbia is still in transition from the period of armed conflict that gripped the country in the 1990s to one of successful economic growth and a fully functioning system of social security.
Columbia is the only South American country with coastline alongside both the Pacific and the Atlantic oceans, it has been described as being at the crossroads of Latin America and North America. We could see evidence of the multiple cultural influences as we walked through the streets on that first evening in search of a recommended restaurant.
“It’s nice to have a day out of the office.”
Over the next few days we explored streets lined with evocative scenes depicted in colourful street art and fluttering with bunting. We found a foodie paradise hidden behind doors leading from rough and uneven pavements, with plates of fresh local fish, squid ink rice, tangy with lime and beautifully presented. Cocktails to die for and ice cream served in a venue that resembled the top of a double decker bus, decorated like the children’s section of a library.
As Lesley, World ARC Team Leader, said in the 4 X 4 that was hurtling round tight bends and winding it’s way upward away from Santa Marta and the marina, ‘It’s great to have a day out of the office’.
Columbia has the highest level of biodiversity per square mile in the world. As we turned off the road down a dirt track lined with thickets of bamboo, we overlooked mountains and valleys lush with vegetation, a myriad shades of green dotted with the odd vibrant red flower.
We visited La Victoria coffee farm, high up in the hills, owned by a descendent of post Second World War German emigres and exemplifying the changes in Columbia’s fortunes and climate. We heard that during the 1990s Mickey, deceased husband of current owner, Claudia, had braved Columbia’s armed militia and held his ground in a nerve-wracking moment of negotiation to keep ownership of the farm.
In current times, the workforce has decreased and is hard to find, the work being both physically demanding and with dangers associated with Columbia’s wild environment - jaguars live in the upper area where coffee is grown and snakes are abundant too. We saw neither during our visit, much to Dicky’s relief.
Coffee production has decreased due to climate change and an unprecedented increase in rainfall. La Victoria no longer exports coffee, instead relying on self-sufficiency and the income from a restaurant and tourist visits - and, yes, we had the best cup of coffee and banana cake of the trip so far.
A nerve-ending drive down the bumpiest never ending track imaginable was rewarded by a refreshing shower under natural waterfalls amidst the rainforest. Gerald earned himself the honourable title of human iguana, during this visit. Having leapt onto a trampoline-like structure suspended in the trees above the waterfall, Gerald was curtailed in the act of performing a forward flip by a safety conscience guide. I was filming the action and at this interruption, moved forward to change the camera angle, inadvertently kicking Gerald’s trainer down the steep slope below, the trainer tumbled for what seemed forever and then just as I thought it was going to disappear, it stopped balanced precariously against the trunk of a bush about 100 metres below us. The safety-conscious guide, tourists and I watched with baited breath as Gerald clambered down the steep slope of the rainforest valley to retrieve the lost trainer. He returned triumphant to be dubbed ‘the human iguana’.
Lesley’s day out of the office ended with lunch on a restaurant verandah hung with bird feeders, full of sugary water and buzzing with the activity of hummingbirds coming to feed.
Back to the real world and a day of fixing things on Walrus and provisioning (three trolleys and two taxis full).
We set sail a day later, headed due west and south to get to the San Blas Islands, known as Guna Yala by the indigenous people.
Wishing our followers well from the palm fringed islands of the Hollandses.