CURRENT LOCATION: Anchored in Ensenada Honda, near town on Culebra
18 18.326' N, 065 17.979' W

This one is looking mighty scary. An invest which has been generating showers and wind to our south for the past several days has gotten organized today. Enough that is has been declared a tropical depression. Although this system is already west of our position, all models indicate that it will make a hard right and line up to pass directly over us!

Increasing periods of rain and gusty winds started up last night. At one point the domino game Sheryl and I were playing was interrupted by winds we measured to peak at 37 knots. It is a good thing we had taken the precaution of removing our brand new outboard from the dinghy to place it on the stern rail of Prudence. The waves in the harbor during the squall could have easily taken the heavily weighted transom of the Porta-bote under and swamped our new engine.

It was late this morning when the system was declared a tropical depression. Weather discussions began to take the storm seriously for the first time, and talk of it becoming a Category 1 or a Category 2 hurricane by the time it reaches Puerto Rico sent an uncomfortable sensation, much like an electrical shock, to the very core of our being.

Not knowing exactly what side of Culebra the system will pass makes some decisions more difficult. Since we have been here with our CQR sunk in the muddy bottom for two months now, we decided it may be best to just ride it out in our current location.

To be doubly safe, we deployed a second anchor. Our Fortress was already assembled and stored on deck following the last threat of a hurricane. We deflated our kayaks and stowed them below in order to give us more room to work on deck. Sheryl lowered the Fortress anchor into the Porta-bote, along with the 30-feet of chain rode, and I rowed out while she paid out the rope rode from the bow of Prudence. Once I was 200-feet from the boat over a spot which approximated a 45-degree angle from the primary anchor rode, I dropped the Fortress and chain. Hopefully, this precaution will give us two anchors working together at maximum efficiency when we are pointed into the wind in the direction of the opening to Ensenada Honda. This long (almost 2-mile) stretch can generate considerable fetch. If the motto, 'two anchors are better than one,' is in any way true, it will be worth the effort.

In addition to our own preparations, we had agreed to oversee the care of a friend's skiff while she is up in Maine. Nadeen had requested that we relocate her boat in the event of a big storm. Note that this is the same boat that we had briefly tied up behind Prudence like a big dinghy.

As you may recall, the last fate I reported on this boat was when it overheated on us. The owner had to make arrangements for someone on island to repair the impeller and after repairs were complete, we took possession again. Rather than keep it tied to one of our stern cleats, we opted to anchor the skiff near our boat and keep an eye on it from a short distance. We even stuck a solar-powered lawn light on it as an anchor light (they work quite well in this capacity).

This afternoon, we decided that there was no time like the present to move the skiff to its hurricane destination. The rainy weather is certainly not going to get any better before it gets worse...much, much worse. Sheryl knew the general location of the spot in the mangroves near town where we were to place the boat; however, the exact location of the opening in the trees eluded us.

Try as we might, we could not spot the entrance from the water. Therefore, Sheryl asked me to drop her off at a dock and she would walk to Nadeen's place of business and find the tiny mangrove lagoon in her back yard from land. Meanwhile, I was to motor around and watch the shoreline for her signal.

I stopped only momentarily while Sheryl gingerly stepped from the boat to the pier. She was gone from sight within seconds. I motored in lazy circles, shifting occasionally to neutral and drifting with the currently moderate breeze. The light rain on my bare shoulders was cool, and brought me as close to a 'chill' as I have experienced in nearly a year. I kept sweeping my eyes across the shoreline, looking for Sheryl to appear and wave me in.

When she did appear, her signal took a form I would never have expected. She was swimming! From between the mangrove roots, I could see the splash she generated as her wind-milling arms propelled her through the water in a crawl stroke. I quickly motored toward her, then cut the engine and drifted until I reached her location in the water. It was only waist-deep; however, as I soon learned, Sheryl was swimming because the mud was too soft to gain purchase enough to walk. More accurately stated, she was waist deep in water and thigh deep in mud. She had nearly lost a shoe to the suction of the thick and sticky muck while she was wading in from the mangrove jungle.

Trooper that she is, Sheryl stopped me from hopping into the muck beside her by explaining that there was no reason for both of us to become covered in the foul-smelling goo. So she pulled the skiff the last few boat lengths through the entrance and into the mangrove lagoon from the water while I grabbed overhead branches and helped from onboard the boat.

Once in position, Sheryl waded through the slop, the mud making sucking noises with each of her labored steps, to tie lines from the boat around stout branches in the mangroves. When she climbed back aboard, her legs were coated with thick black mud, the consistency of Elmer's glue. We quickly covered the skiff with a tarp and secured it while hoards of mosquitoes swarmed and attacked us relentlessly.

Back aboard the Porta-bote, I rowed while Sheryl used the accumulated rainwater at the bottom of the dinghy to start the process of rinsing off the dark paste. After we boarded Prudence in the grey light of an overcast Monday afternoon, with the plan to hurry Sheryl directly into the shower, she disrobed in the cockpit only to find thick black muck coating her entire back.

In the way of explaining, in just one tiny measure, why I love this woman so much, she did not complain about the disgusting black muck. She did not complain about the numerous scratches and cuts on her legs and feet from the mussels growing on the roots of the mangroves. She didn't even complain about the mosquito bites received during this excursion into hell. She simply said, "That's enough hurricane preparation for me today." I suppose that, for now, I will not even mention the notion of canvas, sails, and solar panels. All of that can wait until tomorrow.