On Tuesday 28th January, we woke early in anticipation of our passage to Colombia. Other yachts and catamarans had departed the anchorage, at Surfside Beach, yesterday evening, to clear out prior to an early start. Having only been in Aruba since 2130 hours on Sunday and spent time clearing in on Monday, we needed to provision for the trip. We took the dinghy ashore and walked for 30 minutes to Price Smart, a large supermarket on the outside of town, beyond the airport. We were early, as it didn't open until 9am. Then we noticed that the signs were all for members, meaning that we couldn't shop there. We headed inland for 15 minutes and found a small, Chinese supermarket, where we managed to buy bananas, fruit juice, coca cola, lettuce and 2 boxes of chicken nuggets. Not what we really wanted but beggars can't be choosers. it was another 20 minute walk back to the dinghy. I had completed the SailClear online form for customs, first thing this morning but the online immigration card for Colombia wouldn't allow me to select 'arrival by sea', only 'arrival by air'. I tried again once back on board but had no luck. We would just have to arrive in Colombia without meeting this requirement. Pete went over the side with mask and snorkel and scrubbed the log wheel, to ensure we would have the boat speed while sailing and would be able to see the difference between that and speed over the ground and also true versus apparent wind. We lifted the outboard engine and the dinghy and completed preparations for sailing. Then we lifted the anchor and motored down the channel behind Renaissance Island, to the customs and immigration dock at the port of Barcadero. We moored alongside, with the assistance of some Colombians from a cargo boat and visited immigration and then customs, which didn't take long. At 1130 hours we slipped the lines, negotiated the shoal and headed into the channel and out to sea, unfurling the foresail immediately. Our passage had begun and would probably take between 50 and 60 hours. We needed to head northwest first, to a point 50 miles north of the Colombian coast, to avoid potentially hazardous winds and seas. There is a mountain, 25 miles inland, that stands 5800m high, with similarly steep gradients underwater. The area is notorious for creating swirling, gale force winds and big, breaking seas and many yachts who cut across find themselves with shredded sails and broken forestays. We had a decent weather window but were taking no chances.
The sailing was tremendous to begin with. We had a very strong current behind us and were doing between 8 and 12 mph, as we surfed down some of the waves. The plan had been to arrive at the first waypoint around breakfast time on Wednesday, when the forecast said the lightest winds and smallest swell would be but we were going to be way ahead of schedule. As we progressed north of the headland with the mountain, the seas became more confused and the height of the waves increased to around 3 metres. We would be wearing life jackets and harnesses overnight, when we would be alone in the cockpit keeping watch, as the sea was unpredictable. We had chicken nuggets with lettuce, onions and salad cream, in a baguette for tea. It was quite tasty but soon started to repeat on me, the way a McDonald's burger does.
I took first watch, waking Pete at 9pm to take over. I had had the benefit of the sunset and fading light, so it hadn't been too bad. As always seems to be the case, on passage, there was no moon but Venus was shining brightly and low in the sky ahead. I saw no ships, just a couple of aeroplanes. Pete took over at midnight and I went to bed but I didn't sleep, with the rocking and rolling. Pete had to start the engine for an hour, on low revs, to keep the batteries charged. That made me feel quite queasy for a while. Pete left me in my bunk until 1am, an extra hour and then I took over for the graveyard shift until 4am, grabbing a banana to stave off any hunger. My watch went fairly quickly, monitoring our position relative to our waypoint but I definitely didn't enjoy it. When Pete came on watch we had passed 7 miles south of our waypoint and were about 3 miles southwest of it. Rather than gybe on my own, to head south west and because we were further south than originally planned, I had adjusted our point of sail by 8 degrees to port. So, before I went to bed, we executed the gybe together and changed heading to 260 degrees, putting us on a course over the ground of 248 degrees. We had covered 125 miles and had 211 miles to go to a point on the Colombian mainland, north of Santa Marta. Pete kept watch until 8am but I still could not sleep, despite being very tired. Pete awoke at 10am and I went back to bed, taking Pete's berth instead of mine. It's narrow but has a comfortable mattress and a lee cloth to stop you rolling out when the boat heels or rocks sideways. I actually managed to sleep for about half an hour, rising at noon, still yawning. We had been updating the log hourly during the day and at least every 90 minutes at night (to try not to disturb the person in bed), as well as at each change of course. We record the time, wind speed and direction, boat speed, speed of the ground (SOG), heading, course over the ground (COG), position fix (lat & long) and log (distance). Pete updated the log at 11.30am as that was 24 hours since we had left and the distance covered was a new record of 188.1 miles, an average of 7.83mph. We had gradually slowed as the current reduced as we moved further offshore.
As forecast, the weather was much calmer on Wednesday, especially during the morning, so the sailing was quite pleasant. An enormous ship passed behind us, about 6 miles away. It was so large it looked as though you could throw a stone at it. We had a bite on the fishing line but the fish took the tail off the lure and got away. I refused to have chicken nuggets for tea again, so Pete made a tomato sauce and added onions, garlic and bacon. There was so much, he didn't bother with the pasta. We had hoped for a calmer night but after tea the wind started to pick up and the sea state with it. The wind direction also changed, so we gybed at 1800 hours and half an hour later, I went to bed, an hour earlier than scheduled and managed to get a little bit of sleep. Pete gybed again at 8pm. I was due on watch at 11pm but arose 20 minutes early. I had heard noises on deck and thought Pete was walking around, which is against our rules in the dark. Then Pete came below wearing the head torch and started washing his hands. We had passed through a large shoal of flying fish and they had landed all over the boat, which is what I had heard. Pete had picked up those that landed in the cockpit and the dinghy and thrown them back over board. He left those that landed on deck. They would get washed overboard at some point, dead or alive, depending on how long it took. Pete hopped into bed 8 minutes early. I updated the log before moving to the cockpit, clipping on and completing a 360 degree check for other vessels. I had indeterminate white lights, in the distance, on the starboard side. I settled down and lined up the lights with a stanchion until I was absolutely sure that the ship was heading north and increasing the distance between us. This I could tell because the lights started to move away from the stanchion, to the right. The ship never appeared on AIS, so was more than 5 miles distant. At 0030 hours, still on my watch, I spotted lights directly ahead of us. I could see them from both the port and starboard sides of the boat. The light or lights were white but too far away at the moment to determine which aspect of the ship I was seeing. I went down below and updated the log. Pete asked if everything was ok, so I mentioned the ship and he went up to take a look. By this time, 2 white lights were visible, one higher than the other, indicating a ship over 50 metres in length, going across our bows. The light to the right was higher, so the ship was moving from west to east. Before long, I could also make out the ship's red port light too. I passed some time watching the ship's lights, getting closer and eventually it passed to our port side, 1.5 miles away, which looks quite close, especially at night. I woke Pete at just after 2am, when I had updated the log and I climbed into bed. I was now feeling sick with tiredness and after a short time, I fell asleep. Every so often, when we were rocked by a big wave, I face planted into the pillow and woke up but managed to keep going back to sleep. Pete left me to sleep until 0615, so he had completed a long watch. The wind had dropped and the sea had calmed in the last hour or so and as I took over the watch again it was actually quite pleasant sailing. I could see the dark shape of the mountains, to the east, rising way above the clouds. Then I watched the sun rise, which obliterated the view of the mountains, which disappeared in the haze. With the sun came the wind and with the wind, the swell increased again but it wasn't too bad. Pete was up again at 0830 hours and by then the wind was gusting to 27 mph, so I suggested that we put a reef in the foresail. Our boat speed increased. We could now see the headland north of Santa Marta and the mountain ranges along the coast. You are not allowed to take meat, animal products or vegetables into Colombia, so we had to throw our remaining fresh food overboard, including the second pack of chicken nuggets. I had a message from EE, so bought some data and tried the immigration form again but still couldn't get it to work.
The wind continued to increase and the sea was getting feisty, with an increasingly big and confusing swell. We put another reef in the foresail when the wind was consistently on or over 30mph and started the engine, as we now just wanted to get to our destination as quickly as possible. As we closed in on the coast and the headland, the wind hit 40mph and Pete took over the helming, as the autohelm was causing us to corkscrew uncomfortably. It was now definitely what I would describe as rough. Approaching the island just north of Santa Marta bay was incredibly windy but we took the decision to go on the inside rather than have the extra distance to go around it. Once through the gap, the sea calmed in the shelter even though the wind continued to blow at almost 30 mph. We were surprised to see modern high-rise buildings and 2 cruise ships docked. Pete called port control on VHF channel 16 and they cleared us to make our way to the marina. Next we called the marina on channel 72 but didn't get a coherent reply because it was lunchtime and the office was closed and the marineras don't speak English. Pete put the ropes and fenders on while I helmed the boat and then we headed for the fuel pontoon. Pete disembarked and went to look for the office and the fuel guys called Sebastian to come over and see us. He brought forms for us to fill out and allocated us berth D13. Pete went in a launch to take a look, so there would be no surprises. It was going to be difficult berthing with the strong wind and we were both nervous. Pete said that the pontoons were quite short, so we would be going in bows to and I would need to throw the foreline to Sebastian and then quickly jump off with the midship's line to slow the boat down. With so much to do, I threw the line too soon and with bad technique and the line didn't reach Sebastian, so Pete had to abort and reverse back out. The wind took the bow round, being the lightest part of the boat and Pete had a devil of a job getting round to have a second attempt. He had to reverse hard and the dinghy touched the anchor on another boat but no damage was caused. This time, I threw the foreline correctly and as there were 3 men on the pontoon, I also threw the midship's line and Pete threw the aft line and we were soon tied up safely, alongside a motor boat which had no fenders on, meaning we couldn't rest alongside it. We gave Sebastian our boat papers and passports, so he could take them to the office when it re-opened and he told us we shouldn't have ditched our fresh food as they really don't care. He also said that the online immigration form doesn't work. We headed to the marina bar for a cold beer. It had taken us just 49 hours for the trip of 353.3 miles. Miocene and Blu were also on our dock, having arrived around 8am that morning. They had suffered the crazy weather in the dark, which was scary for them and Blu had sustained damage to the roller reefing, amongst other things. When the office opened, we headed over and met Yerlis, a lovely young woman, with whom we had communicated by email. She said our passports would be back from immigration in 10 minutes and that she would be our customs agent. We filled out more forms for the marina contract and the agency contract and had our finger print and photo taken, as access to facilities is controlled by fingerprint and facial recognition. Yerlis showed us where all the facilities are and we were free to go and experience Colombia. We headed back to the boat and slept for 90 minutes, showered and headed out through the marina gates for tea.