They come in threes
20 May 2014 | La Parguera P.R.
It was Jims' fault, sailing on the apt named Double Trouble who suggested we call in at La Parguera on the South west corner of Puerto Rico. "You must meet Andy" he said, "he's owns a guitar shop and puts on gigs, you could maybe jam with him and try out his guitars, he's got lots of them". So we set sail from Ponce on Sunday morning in light winds for the thirty mile hop to La Parguera. With the wind almost on our stern, a force three at best, we raised all of Picaroons sails, mizzen, main and genoa and tacked slowly out to sea, then back towards the coast about three miles out. The seas were just a tad bigger than slight, the skies above us clear, the sun warm on our backs we cruised along leisurely at about 3.5 knots. Puerto Rico slid by at a snails pace and I got out my guitar and serenaded Jackie at the helm with a few oldies but goodies, Take it easy, seemed appropriate, it was one of those mornings.
At about midday we made contact, via the VHF, with another couple of boats, Moon Rebel and Greta May who are both heading for the Bahamas. Moon rebel a few miles behind us were going to stop at a place called Gilligans Island, Greta May was already anchored in La Parguera, both crews are from England, well Jane and Dave are from Wales. Gilligans Island is about two thirds of the way to La Parguera and at the pace we were going seemed a sensible option at midday. Then the wind increased a little and Picaroon picked up speed, so we changed our minds about and decided to press on to La Parguera which we reckoned we could make by about four in the afternoon, which we did.
The entrance to La Parguera is dotted with lots and lots of cays, little islets of mangroves, that extend to about two miles off shore. It's shallow, with an average of about twenty five feet but with bits much less than this. From out at sea its not clear which is the way in but according to the chart there's a buoyed entrance which we eventually spot. The sails down we motor slowly picking our way, following the course Jackie plotted yesterday with Navionics on the tablet, our back up GPS, and the in house Garmin plotter on the helm. All around us are speed boats, and pleasure craft out for a Sunday sail, all locals who buzz Picaroon picking her way gingerly through the myriad of cays. For some reason the charts didn't seem to match what we were seeing, and then the tablet decided to die, it's battery ran out at this crucial point leaving us just with the Garmin, which is fine out at sea but not exactly brimming with detail this close up to shore.
Up ahead we can see a bevy of sailboats anchored in a small bay, Jim had said you can anchor up right in front of the Plaza, but we couldn't see any Plaza, and we were running out of options as the depth sounder said eight feet, we need at least that so we decide to park her next to these small yachts. The tree lined bay is dotted with pretty little houses on stilts, each with a patio that sits on the waters edge, and on the far side of this small inlet is what looks like a large boat at anchor. We pick a route between the small sailboats, and the edge of the bay, through a gap perhaps fifty yards wide. Suddenly Picaroon comes to a stop, the depth gauge reads four feet, we've run aground in Mangrove mud. Jackie tries reverse, but no, we're well and truly stuck.
Watching all this happen are a couple of local guys on their patio who are now coming towards us in a little skiff, they're going to try and help us. Of course their little skiff can't tow us off but with their local knowledge they suggest we give them our anchor and they'll drop it to one side of us where there's deeper water. We can then use the winch to drag us clear. They take our 45lb anchor, I let out about a hundred feet of chain and hit the winch button, nothing moves, and the strain on the windlass pops the breaker. Plan A fails. It's low tide, high tide is at 10pm but even then it will only be about a foot deeper than now. After a couple of attempts I suggest they drop our anchor behind Picaroon, and try that. Jackie puts her hard in reverse, I put strain on the anchor and suddenly we're floating backwards. We're dangerously close to a collision with a moored cruiser, but we avoid it by inches and our jubilant rescuers point us to a safe place, in ten feet of water where we drop the anchor, just 30 yards from where we ran aground. We invite Augusta and Jose aboard for a well deserved cold beer, drama over, we chat in broken English and Spanish. Seems we're not the first boat to make this mistake, and as our 88 year old sailor friend Dick said back in Salinas, " If you haven't run aground you haven't been sailing"
So all's well that ends well, La Parguera is a very pretty corner of Puerto Rico, with it's waterside chalets, in all colours of the rainbow nestled in amongst the tree lined shore but Andy's guitar shop was closed, Andy is away in the States until Thursday, and most of the cafes and bars are closed. Seems that this is a weekend retreat and Monday is more than quiet. The turquoise waters lap gently at Picaroons hull and I spend the afternoon with my watercolours, Jackie reading a detective novel about Blackpool at the turn of the last century. The evening brings torrential rain so we snuggle up below and watch Downton Abbey on the laptop, tomorrow we'll pick our way between the cays and head for Boqueron, around Cabo Roja which we'll give a good offing, and into the southern edge of the Mona passage.
PS.
Well that was the plan, but we've come to learn that the best plan is no plan at all. We raised anchor at about 10.30am but it seemed a bit hard work for what should be some nice soft mud. I was just ready to shout anchors up when I could see what the problem had been. Our anchor seemed to have found a large chain still attached to some old mooring on the seabed. We're only in 10ft of water and in front of is a clump of mangroves where we'll run aground if we go forward. So I'm hanging off the bowsprit with the boat hook fully extended and manage to grab the chain but it's very heavy. Jackie works the windlass dropping our anchor a until at last the anchor and rouge chain part company. At this point there's no-one at the helm and the only thing keeping our 21ton boat from going anywhere is my outstretched arm, a fully extended boat hook and this old mooring chain. I finally have to sacrifice the boat hook that plunges beneath the surface following this old mooring chain to the bottom, Jackie by now has Picaroon in gear and we swing out into the channel towards the open sea, and Boqueron, and it's only a boat hook, and we've more than one anyway.
About an hour away from La Peguera and out of the myriad of cays and reefs we're out on the ocean and we've just put up the genoa and mizzen, turned off the engine and Picaroon settled down on confused seas, her motion better now with the sails raised. That's the moment I choose to look around and take in the view, out of the corner of my eye I'm missing something that should be there. I stare over the transom down onto the place where pico Picaroon our dingy should be but all we're hauling is two ropes. I turn back to Jackie and say " we haven't got a dingy" just two trailing ropes that I pull in, as if to prove the point.
Not having a dingy is not an option, so we turn Picaroon around and head back to La Pegera in the vague hope of finding it. The way we figured it, all that messing about with the anchor must have snagged the ropes on our prop as they had been wrenched to breaking point, and snapped. With luck our dingy may have drifted into the mangrove and be still there. We slip back to about where we were wrestling with that chain and drop anchor, but far enough away to not snag it again. We've no sooner checked to see that we're not dragging when Jackie spots a guy paddling a dingy, our dingy about 200 yds away by the shore, and waving to us. He's unable to make any progress though as the wind is against him, but he's obviously trying to reach us. We wave back, try hollering, try calling the nearby yacht club on channel 16, but the airwaves are dead. Then a skiff arrives to his rescue and five minutes later they're alongside with Pico Picaroon in tow. The boss man, Mr lopez is from the yacht club, and the guy who rescued our dingy saw it part from Picaroon as we set sail. He just happened to be looking out of his window and saying to his wife what a nice looking boat that is in the harbour. We offered them a reward but they wouldn't accept anything, just happy to help.
So we abandoned todays plan, put the out board back on the dingy and went out to the local swimming hole. Along with a handful of locals we wallowed in the sparkling clear water, drank a cold beer and mused on our luck, we retrieved the dingy and got to go swimming, which was much more fun than sailing to Boqueron, we can always do that tomorrow.