It certainly has been quite awhile since we have put anything up on the blog. We've already made it to the Dominican Republic but... we'll get to that. Let's start where we left off.

The Provenciales, or as its more commonly known Provo, treated us fantastically. We quite easily settled into our little slip at The Turtle Cove Marina after getting beat down for a number of days on the high seas. It was certainly a welcome reprieve. Getting into anywhere on this island is a little tricky as its fringed with a very shallow barrier reef. Checking out the Garmin chart on our approach it seemed almost certain that we were going to bump into something even though we were entering through a marked channel. Fortunately for us, the friendly folks over at the marina sent us out a pilot boat to guide us in through the underwater labrynth. Docking was a bit challenging because our pylons were set apart further than most telephones and the wind was howling 25+ knots but with a little help from some of the folks on the dock and our able bodied crew we got her all tied up for the next couple of days.

Everyone aboard was happy to take a breather. Here the customs and immigration official comes out the boat to clear you into the Turks and Caicos Island group which went pretty smoothly. In this country Isabel the cat needed serological testing which is quite expensive and takes a very long time to get the results so she wasn't going to be allowed into the country. Fortunately I had called ahead and spoke with an officer in the Animal Health Division of the Department of Agriculture, the agency in charge of importing pets. After talking around in circles for about 15 minutes I was able to conclude that there was a provision in the law, a doublespeak of sorts, that made it illegal for any animal to come into the country but if an animal stayed on your boat (which is in the country) than you can skip all the bullshit. Perfect! Even more so because my very honest mother-in-law, within seconds of meeting our customs lady, declared that we had a cat on board. The official seemed to think that we were going to have to jump through a ton of hoops, etc. at which point I dropped the officials name, Officer Dowridge, and fed her the same line he gave me and the problem resolved itself instantaneously. It pays to be a name dropper from time to time, especially in places that are very bureaucratic and completely disfunctional.

After the customs official was done, she bid us farewell and we legally hopped onto solid ground. At this point, Tom hadn't eaten a full meal into two days, a very unintentional fast, so food was a high priority. If there was a buffet we would have gone. The last couple days he had only been eating a few peanuts at irregular intervals. Obviously not an amazing situation. We spotted a tiki bar on our way in through the cut that we promptly called home. We all knocked back quite a few of the local Turks Head lagers and Tom took down the largest pork chop I've ever seen in my life. The thing weighed a 1lb. and it was most certainly well deserved. After being on dry STABLE land with bellies full of good food and drink, the sleepless nights of wave crashing really caught up with us. We returned to the boat shortly before nightfall and fell into a group coma.

The next couple of days were spent doing the usual in port business. Doing a bit of laundry, hitting up marine stores which inevitably have nothing we need, eating out and re-provisioning for the next jaunt out to sea. Its funny how, after visiting lots of isolated islands, grocery shopping can make an impression on you. We rented a car which made the errand running efficient and afforded and gave us the opportunity to hit up some different areas across the island. We stayed a total of 4 days and decided to head to the northern part of the Dominican Republic, bypassing the mazes of banks and some of the less appealing islands south of us. We knew it was going to be a serious haul, but we were running short on time and thought it would be nice for old Tommy Boy to be on land for his birthday the coming Monday. Fortunately, we had run into an old british bloke at the bar watching the Miami Heat game while we were in town who recommended that we buy some Gravel pills, which has turned out to be quite an effective sea sickness solution for Becker. So with fridge, freezer and pantry stocked. We set out into the sunset on Saturday for what was going to be our longest consecutive sail... or motor to date.

All of us have been paying serious attention to the weather because it determines not only our course but more importantly when we should seek shelter. It seems that any time we pre plan our tacks using the GRIB (GRIdded Binary data) wind forecasts they seem to be just off enough to make sailing our course almost more work than its worth. That coupled with the fact that when we engage the autopilot it falls off so much in gusting winds that it almost force tacks us to recompense to keep us on our compass bearing meant motoring a lot. Not a situation that any of us want to regularly deal with and especially not in the middle of the night when the winds have been howling and the sea quite large. So after discussing many of the options and doing some of the fuel calculations we decided that we had enough fuel to motor (if we had to) the whole way on down to the DR. This certainly was not an optimal situation with 5 foot rolling seas but it was certainly a direct way of getting there. We got bashed around quite a bit, sailed when we could but were able to stay on our rhumb line and make our way into the Puerto Bahia Marina in Samana before dusk on Becker's birthday.

Liz and I had previously traveled to this town to see the humpback whales a few years back while on a crazy tour of the island. To be perfectly frank, I don't think either one of us really thought we would return to this particular town, but here we were coming in to this lush island that arose almost out of thin air. The north coast was spectacular, loaded with dense vegetation and sheer granite cliffs. It was truly a sight for sore eyes after a few long days in the aquatic desert. I almost landed a fish, which would have been even more perfect, on our way in. But our desire to arrive superseded our desire for fish, so the boat never slowed and my line snapped right when I thought that I was overtaking the beast. Oh well. At the time we had our priorities.

Entering the bay brought back a wave of memories. We passed the north side of Cayo Lentado, eloquently put by the authors of A Sail of Two Idiots as the equivalent of a land based cruise ship, and quickly made our way to the channel entrance to the marina. Clearing here was a breeze. An ambassador of the Dominican Navy greeted us upon arrival and informed us that Customs and Immigration were closed for the day but assured us that they would be back tomorrow and so long as we were there in the morning we were free to come ashore and explore.

The following morning we took care of the official business and proceeded to session the amenities of this marina. Over the years we have seen quite a few marinas and I can assure you with 100% confidence that none of us had docked at a place like this. For a mere $3.00 a day we had access to their infinity pools, showers, and immaculate grounds. All in all a pretty incredible steal of a deal.

We rented a car for a couple of days which gave us a chance to explore Las Terrenas, a beachside town we had intended to explore on our previous trip, and to check out a beautiful waterfall outside of El Limon. The hike was supposedly about 20 minutes which was more like an hour to get to the base but certainly worth our while. There were about 7 different entrances to the falls along the road, most of which had groups of men shouting at us to stop or we'd miss it. This being my least favorite type of marketing. So after cursing the road we decided upon the only entrance to the falls that appeared to have nobody manning the station. Once we parked we were greeted by a man in charge of renting horses to take us to the falls, which we politely declined. I told him we needed the excercise and that we'd hoof it. He seemed disappointed but willingly accepted my refusal.

However, as we embarked a man on a horse came up along side us with no intention of letting us do the trek solo. He informed me with great sincerity that he was there for our protection and that if we elected him to be our guide than he would show us the least muddy path through a friends private property. It became very clear that he was not expecting me to say no, so after a brief conversation with the rest of the group we decided that, for a small fee, our trip would be guided from that point forward. It really turned out to be a blessing in disguise. The hike was a great change of pace from all the days at sea and the cascading water we soaked in was a pleasant reward for the energy exerted.

Since we arrived at the marina, Liz and I had befriended our 22 year old bartender Juan Miguel, or as he goes in la calle Estarlin. After passing numerous nights with him, polishing off Presidents and rum, we had become quite good friends. It was a great chance for us to practice our spanish and get a bit of a local perspective. After passing a couple of nights bantering back and forth, he told me that he wanted his girlfriend to cook us lunch and show us a bit of the town. Since we had a car and could make our way into the pueblo, the decision was a no brainer. We met him in the morning and spent the day walking through a jungle of both concrete and tropical plants making the rounds meeting his grandmother, mother and plethora of cousins, aunts, uncles and siblings. Liz and I followed along awkwardly exchanging our pleasantries not really knowing what to do. Its a common phenomenon in places we've traveled in Latin America that when you enter any city center there is a huge amount of motos running this way and that, but in reality nothing is really happening. People are just hanging, and hanging hard. Dominoes slam. Men holler at the cute gal walking sown the street. Dogs fight. Horns honk. But in reality nothing much transpires. Its both simple and beautiful.

After a few hours of floundering around town we hopped on the back of a couple of motorcycles and were brought back to our car. From there we drove up the hillside to meet our friends pregnant girlfriend and child and settle in for a meal of parrot fish in coco, coconut rice and a traditional salad of shredded cabbage, lettuce onion and tomato. Since we had been shopping for the ingredients at the local open air market, lunch was going to take awhile, so our dear friend had swung by the local movie dealer and had a copy of Perico Ripiao burned for us, apparently a classic comedy about some prisoners during the era of Trujillo here in the Dominican Republic. We spent the afternoon, laughing, chatting and feasting with new friends and family. It was truly a pleasure. After hanging in the barrio for a hot minute we made our way down to the beach to cool off and check out some of the views from a long spanning causeway that links the downtown area with some outlying cays. Juan Miguel had to go to work and well... we had to go home. The whole experience was super rich but hell, it wore us out. He told us that the following day we could go and have his mother cook for us and show us a bit more of the town but with our time here running short and extra work on the boat needing to be done we graciously declined. Although I know we only had a peak into the daily life in Samana, it was certainly well worth the adventure.

The last couple of days here have been a bit like Groundhog Day. Everything is great but it seems to all blend together. We get some boat work done. We drink some wine at lunch. We go for a swim. We look at weather. This is usually our indication that it's time to get a move on. Although the weather doesn't look perfect we are setting sail tomorrow for Puerto Rico and beyond. The seas and wind look a little bigger than we'd prefer but since we've left the middle Bahamas its been the same story over and over again. Its been good practice and the reprieves have been good but we are ready to push on. There is so much we haven't seen and yet we've seen too much of. The end is near. I can almost smell Tortola. Not sure I'm ready to stop but we've got to go! Crazy how it all works out.