Leaving Luperon

I am not sure when it started. I certainly didn't see it coming. Frankly, I was surprised and somewhat dismayed, but there was no denying it. One morning, while drinking my first cup of coffee on the quarterdeck, a faint sparkle of light touched the corner of my eye. I turned and the morning sunlight revealed to my wondering eye...a fully formed spiderweb hanging on our lifelines! A spiderweb shining in the morning dew; stretched between the “life lines” no less, beautiful in its delicate symmetry, but having no place whatever on a serious cruiser's boat. Like some fairy tale spell or an old sci-fi movie, a web quietly had been spun as we slept. In my increasingly agitated imagination I saw it growing, encasing the boat, binding us forever in some "matrix-like" lotus land! Gradually, bound in our cocoons, lethargic and complacent, our plans to leave would become increasingly vague; indefinitely postponed. We would be drained of initiative, our life's blood sucked from our weakly protesting bodies or...something like that. With our destruction certain unless we took immediate action, I woke Pat, “We need to get out of here!”

Leaving Luperon, however, proved nearly as time consuming as entering...fully a ½ day. You must revisit immigration and then the commandante's office to get a “despatcho”, or permission to leave and pay an array of small fees. Finally, there is an inspection to make sure you're not smuggling people or contraband. Again, as when we entered, there was no soborno (bribe) requested or paid. The process seemed confusing, due mostly to my too basic Spanish and unfamiliarity with the procedure. It is a labor intensive process but the 6 or 7 people with whom we met over the course of the day were cheerful and helpful. The head of immigration and the young man from the commandante's office actually sang softly to themselves as they completed the paperwork. But, no one was in a hurry. The singing sa
ilor filling out the forms took time to flirt with the girls hanging out at the office as a herd of goats wandered past the open door. Several phones calls were made and long periods of inactive silence prompted me to question, "¿Hay algún problema?" "No, no problema." Since no boats are available to the navy in Luperon, you must provide transportation to and from your boat for the final inspection. As we proceeded out to my boat in a light rain, the officer asked me to make several stops at other boats to drop off their despachos. As darkness fell and the rain increased, we finally reached our boat where he handed me my papers and directed me to take him and his partner back to the government dock. No inspection. We were free to go.

Our next stop, the West Caicos involved a nearly 24 hour sail. Rather than leave at night in the rain, we decided to leave early the next morning. This was probably a technical violation of the rules but since the local law enforcement officers would have to borrow a boat to come after us, we weren't too concerned. Towering cumulus clouds lay on the horizon to the southeast as we sailed north in light winds . After an enjoyable overnight sail, we anchored comfortably in the protected, man made harbor of a resort whose development had been suspended some time ago. Only this artificial harbor had been completed before the Ritz-Carlton suspended operations providing us with 360 degree protection and perfect solitude. With severe squall activity forecast, we determined to remain safely anchored until more favorable weather returned. We sat for two days under clear skies watching big anvil topped clouds pass to our east and west. This isolated anchorage attracted numerous birds and we enjoyed watching the osprey and terns diving for their dinners.



Late afternoon of our second day, we heard an American voice over the VHF marine radio responding to a Mayday issued by a sail boat 15 miles north of us. The distressed boat had run up on a coral reef not far from Turtle Cove Marina on the north coast of Providentiales. As darkness deepened, we followed radio updates with increasing dismay as the initial hopes that the grounded boat may float over the reef into deeper water, were dashed as its rudder broke up and eventually, the captain and crew had to abandon ship. Darkness hampered locating the boat but a rescue boat arrived in time to take the crew off, no injuries reported. We were unable to determine whether the boat was lost. However, an abandoned boat becomes a “salvage” operation. Anyone can take possession without the permission of or compensation to the owner. This event served as a stark reminder of how quickly all can be lost. By comparison the discovery that afternoon that our electric generator, once again, had stopped working seemed minor.

The next morning, we set out once again. Without the generator, we couldn't keep our food cold but the batteries could be kept charged by running the engine occasionally. Our intention was to reach Mayaquana in the Bahamas before dark. Once again we enjoyed a light wind sail. Fear of a sudden squall precluded use of the spinnaker but we idled along at an acceptable 3-4 knots. We rounded Devils Point once again and anchored on the north end of Betsey Bay just as the sun dropped below the horizon. After a quiet, restful night, we headed nearly west in light se winds toward Plana Cay, hoping to reach the Acklins before nightfall. However, the already light winds died as we neared Plana Cay around 3:00 and we decided that this deserted island with its crystal clear water and excellent snorkeling would meet our needs for an overnight stop. We anchored in about 15' of water, close enough to for me to swim ashore and enjoy the coral and a myriad of fish. The calm continued through the rest of the day and evening and we considered waiting at this wonderful place until the wind picked up. Weather reports from Chris Parker, the guru of Caribbean forecasting, continued to call for a chance of squalls but that the weather would settle within a day or so and trade winds would fill in soon. The SE trades would give us a nice broad reach up the Bahama chain of islands. We turned in that night agreeing that we would decide in the morning. However, the morning would bring its own, new challenge, narrowing our options considerably.
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