We departed Samana at 12:00 noon for a 30 mile trip around the Cape to one of the few possible spots to anchor on the north coast: El Valle. Chito was disappointed we weren't staying to take a trip to the big falls (so was I), and warned us that there would be wicked swells in El Valle that could tear our anchor loose and fling us against the rock walls. We also knew we should have departed early in the morning in order to get around Cape Samana and Cape Cabron before the winds picked up around 9 a.m. However, Revenue Canada would have been displeased had we not made the time to find Wifi ashore and file our taxes. I don't think I mentioned that as great as Samana is, we found only 1 Wi-Fi café where we could use our laptops. Most Internet places had dial-up using old desktop computers. Remember dial-up?

As a result, we had a rough ride out of the bay and around the Capes, and a brisk sail along the north coast to El Valle. I munched on Dramamine and we both kept a keen eye on the surf crashing ashore, while Altona weathered the rough ride like the game little trooper she is. El Valle is only 5 miles overland from Santa Barbara, but 30 miles around by boat. Once around the Capes, the ride smoothed out and we ran with the wind and waves. The north coast is forbiddingly grand, with steep, looming cliffs, high ridges with the jagged teeth of a few hardy palm trees, and a shore line gnawed by crashing surf. The overcast day added the final touch of menace, and we were uneasy sailing so close to such a vicious lee shore. You don't want to get into trouble along there, but we approached El Valle without incident.

There was only 1 boat waiting in the anchorage.... Windy Liz, and we could tell from afar that the swells were wicked. Her mast was arcing through a good 45 degrees, and she was showing her bottom paint as she rolled from side to side. Not a good sign, but the only other option was sailing through the night all the way to Luperon, and that would have put us in at very much the wrong time. So we anchored, and rolled and rocked relentlessly all night. I slept on the floor where the arc is less, and Ralph suffered a sleepless night in the V-berth.

Next morning, Windy Liz took off before us to accommodate her slower speed, while we watched the local boats. Despite the size of the bay, several fishing boats rowed out from the beach to the open ocean, and one rowed back in casting a large net. With 5 men, the boat was low in the water, and 3 men dove overboard, kicking along as they manoeuvered the net. A 6th man was on a rock much further inshore, hauling on a line attached to the net. Hard work indeed, especially after rowing all that way! This is subsistence living in the DR.

At 12:30 pm we set sail for Luperon, 130 miles distant. The entrance into the manmade, well protected harbour at Luperon is so tricky that it should only be attempted when the wind and sea is calm, i.e. never after 8:30 a.m. We sailed far enough out to pick up some wind and flew along on a broad reach at a good 7-8 knots... a fabulous speed for Altona. The winds didn't really die after dusk as anticipated, even further inshore, and we found ourselves in the unique position of trying to slow the boat down so we wouldn't arrive too early. We jibed back and forth all night, and deliberately went off course. Meanwhile, Windy Liz had lost her autopilot, and they were hand steering through a long, long night. In a grey dawn, with the winds and waves still high, we pulled the sails down outside Luperon and followed Windy Liz inside, gratefully dropping anchor in the dead calm harbour of Luperon.