CURRENT LOCATION: Transiently tied to a mooring ball off of Tortuga Beach, Culebrita, Puerto Rico

18 19.141' N, 065 13.721' W

Listening to subtle conversational cues is the best way to set an agenda when guests are aboard. I gathered from Chris that they certainly wouldn't mind, '...going out for a sail...,' if Sheryl and I were so inclined. Gretchen's statements often included words like: 'swimming', 'beach', and 'more snorkeling.' Sheryl and I decided that this couple needed to see Culebrita.

Prudence has been stationary for nearly a month, so a little prepwork was required before we could shove off. Sun shades and wind scoops were untied, folded, and stowed below. The engine oil was checked, and the kayaks were lashed to the deck. Finally, we tied the dinghy to the mooring ball and tossed off the line from the bow of the big boat.

It was a beautiful day for sailing, with around 15 knots of wind moving us through the gentle swell at a comfortable pace. Soon, we had the engine in neutral and were contemplating turning it off. Just then, however, Sheryl spotted a waterspout! The photos below illustrate the difference in how Sheryl and I reacted to this potentially threatening weather system (which was about 6-8 nautical miles from our position):

Sheryl was unfazed, relaxed even (Photo courtesy of Chris & Gretchen)...


...while my countenance displayed a bit more worry(Photo courtesy of Chris & Gretchen).


Soon the waterspout dissipated, but a line of squalls remained and continued marching eastward. We put the engine back in gear and motorsailed the remaining distance to the tiny island of Culebrita, before any rough weather could stand in our way of reaching this heavenly anchorage.

Upon our arrival, we grabbed a mooring ball and noticed immediately that there were an awful lot of bees in the area. In an effort to escape this flying menace, our group employed two strategies. One was to abandon ship and the other was to head below for a nap. Those who departed the boat took kayaks and snorkel gear in the direction of Tortuga Beach. The bees seemed also to congregate on anyone or anything parked on the shore, but one was safe while in the water.

The napper in our group finally abandoned ship and we were all together in the knee-deep water, safe from the buzzing masses. We did some very casual shallow-water beach snorkeling. The sunlight streaming through the ripples on the water's surface caused dancing shadows on the surface of the bottom's pure, white sand. Although the fish weren't as colorful as the reef fish we often see, we did discover some very friendly Palometa who nibbled at Gretchen's toes and gathered around each of us as if to say, "My, you are a funny looking fish. What are you doing here on our heavenly little island?"

CLICK HERE to see a video of the Palometa.

At the end of the sandy beach, we found a little bit of shallow coral, where we discovered a Green Moray Eel. It was mostly hidden in a cave, showing only a very angry face; however, Sheryl managed to get a few pics, including:



Once our snorkel fin blisters screamed 'uncle,' we headed back to the boat, hoping for a reprieve from the bee onslaught. Instead, it was even worse. I braved the boat first, and attempted to clear the way for others. I had seen on television that beekeepers use smoke to subdue their winged friends. I thought that maybe if I lit up a cigar (previous guests were kind enough to leave me a few for special occasions), I might be able to drive these insects from our cockpit.

So, while everyone else swam in the water around the boat, I madly puffed on a hand-made Honduran Calidad Suprema, surrounded by bees. Unfortunately, the bees didn't even notice the smoke and all I accomplished was making myself dizzy from trying to quickly generate a decent amount of cigar smoke.

With the attempt at a smoking deterrent being totally ineffective, we instead quickly shuttled our guests aboard and down below to safety behind the hatch and companionway screens. Fortunately, we made it with only yours truly sustaining a minor bee sting or two, but we were now being held prisoners in our own boat. The little buggers went zooming by the open port screens with an audible buzz, and I think I may have heard the high-pitched sound of bee laughter.

We rinsed off the salt water from our bodies and started dinner. We thought about what to do now. We sat inside and hoped that the bees would depart when it got dark. Fortunately, as the sun settled so did the bothersome buzz. A quick conference aboard the boat determined that all of us were concerned about their eventual return with the morning light. Trying to get the boat underway again while being stung did not sound appealing. Therefore, we decided that we would not be here when that happened. Instead, Prudence would take a moonlight sail back to Culebra.

It was a beautiful night for a sail, with a full moon and 10 - 12 knots of wind. We simply needed to be careful, since we had to thread our way through a number of coral reefs in order to find our way home. Our best guide for this nighttime adventure was our GPS unit. We had saved the path (often called 'breadcrumbs') from previous trips to and from Culebrita, and figured we would be safe if we did not deviate from those paths on this moonlight ride.

We motorsailed our way back to Ensenada Honda without incident, and grabbed our mooring line just before the hour rolled over to 10PM. It had been a very busy day, but we were happy to be back in bee-free territory and stayed up talking in the cockpit until way past our usual bedtime.