We awoke to an email from Pantaenius saying the underwriters still won't insure us for Caribbean cruising, despite us no longer going to Guatemala this season. They seem to change the rules, to suit themselves, as they go along. We were moving on today, so I made the most of the Starlink access and did a quick Spanish lesson on Duolingo, to protect my streak of days. We had fresh pineapple, lovely and sweet, for breakfast and made preparations to leave the Hot Tub.
With the anchor lifted, I headed towards the exit at the east end, which we were now very familiar with, rather than take the shorter route west, where we had come close to grounding the previous week. As soon as we cleared the reef and had a little space to turn into the wind, we raised the mainsail, following with the foresail, on the port side, once we turned to starboard. The wind was light and we consequently had a very gentle sail, whilst maintaining around 4 knots, speed over the ground. I took the opportunity to exercise with the dynaband, while we remained sheltered by islands and reefs. Once we reached an area open to the sea, in the Canal Mayflower, the swell increased, causing us to roll and the sails to collapse and bang. Pete kept control of the mainsheet, to ensure the boom didn't crash to starboard. As we approached East Lemon Cays, now back in the shelter of the reefs, we rolled away the foresail and then turned head to wind and dropped the main. Pete tidied the sail into the sail bag and we zoned in on the entrance to the anchorages. We could see the reefs on both sides quite clearly but were unsure of the depths in between, as we dare not trust the Navionics charts. Pete took over the helm and I played lookout on the bow. Pete purposely kept close to anchored yachts, on the premise that the water must be deep enough there. The anchorage was busy and there was no room in the shallower waters, so we continued on, towards Nugnudub Island. We passed through deep water and then the depth started to fall and we eventually dropped in 8.9m under the keel, laying out 40m of chain. Pete put the boat in reverse with high revs to dig the anchor in. Almost immediately, the local Kuna arrived, selling bracelets, ankle bracelets and wall-hangings. I bought a bracelet and an embroidered wall-hanging, depicting toucans. We gave the young boy a lollipop, his mother a bottle of water and the father requested a cold beer. When they left, we finished switching off the instruments, fitting the bridle to the anchor chain and putting up our anchor ball. It was bright and sunny and the batteries were full, so we put the watermaker on. The anchorage was truly beautiful, surrounded by small islands, with white sandy beaches and covered in palm trees and the sea was a rich turquoise. Nugnudub, 100m to starboard, was especially pretty, with its manicured grassy areas and an archway, inviting you ashore from the dock. This truly was paradise.
Early afternoon, an Argentinian yacht passed us, close by to port and promptly dropped anchor and finished rather too close in front of us. We were wary, as he had just dropped the anchor and waited, without reversing. Would he hold? We soon found out why he dropped where he did; his friends were on the yacht in front of us. We went ashore in the dinghy, to have a drink at Nugnudub. It was reported that you had to pay $3 per person to land there, as they like to call it a park but we weren't asked to pay, either on landing, or when we ordered drinks. The island was lovely. The managers were keeping it very clean and manicured but it was all done in a very sympathetic way. There were lots of handmade, wooden tables and chairs, under the palms and beneath palm umbrellas and at night, there were fairy lights everywhere. The music was great too, with Genesis, Tears for Fears, Elton John and many other bands and it wasn't too loud. We were paying our bill at the bar and ended up talking to an American guy, JP, which led to us having another drink, with him, his friend Vern and 2 of their young, female crew mates (all platonic). They had been sailing around here for years and provided us with lots of useful information and their contact details, so we could ask them questions whenever we needed to know anything. We eventually took our leave and returned to the boat to make a vegetable curry, only to find that we had no curry sauces left. We souped up a tin of chilli instead. At bedtime, we set the anchor drag alarm and Pete slept in the cockpit until 3am, keeping an eye on things but it was calm overnight and we didn't drag and neither did the Argentinians. The current caused a slight rock for a couple of hours but it wasn't uncomfortable.
On April Fool's Day, we were abruptly awoken by a local, alongside is his dugout, repeatedly calling, 'Hola'. It was too early but he wasn't giving up. Pete got up to tell him, 'No, gracias'. It was a beautiful, calm, sunny day, with clear blue skies. After breakfast, we donned masks, snorkels and fins and finned over to the reef but it was a mud bank, covered in sea grass and there wasn't much to see, so we finned back to the boat, against the current. At least we were getting a workout. We arrived to find two ramoras under the boat. They were about a metre in length, very sleek and silver and they were very curious. I snorkelled up the side of the boat and they came alongside we, maybe 8 to 10 inches away, to have a look at me, looking at them. They decided that, interesting though I was, I wasn't suitable for clinging onto for a free ride. I wondered briefly what they would taste like but couldn't bring myself to catch, kill and eat one of a pair.
Not long after getting back on board, we had a visit from a local dugout selling fresh bread. We bought four small rolls. Before we could even finish this transaction, a fully-laden veggie boat pulled along the starboard side and we were able to buy vegetables for making coleslaw, potatoes, peppers, tomatoes, a dozen eggs, chicken sausages, beer and cans of sparkling grapefruit juice. We asked them about top up cards for the mobile and they said they would bring us some tomorrow. They introduced themselves as Manual, Arsenio and Tommy. The bill was $50 which seemed very reasonable with 24 cans of beer and 12 of pop. After lunch, more locals arrived selling fresh fish, they had caught that morning. We bought a small tuna and another, slimmer fish, which had lovely white meat. We were fully stocked up with fresh food and it seemed like this was the place to be. We could hear the great music from the shore too; it was perfect.
Around 1630 hours, we went ashore to dispose of Pete's empty beer cans, which the bar were keen to have as they can weigh them in and we ordered a drink. The young man behind the bar told us we hadn't paid the entrance fee yesterday, charged us $3 and wrote our boat name down in an exercise book, saying it was a charge per visit. It later turned out that a visit was as long as the boat was here for without going away and coming back, which was fine. My Aperol spritz was excellent and attracted fewer flies than yesterday's margarita. From Nugnudub, we headed across the lagoon to one of the other islands and pulled the dinghy up on the beach. Pete asked for beer but they said they had no ice, so no cold drinks, so we returned to the boat. There we made coleslaw, from red and white cabbage, carrots, onions, mayonnaise, mustard and a little vinegar and put it in the fridge to chill. Next, Pete made machli masala, with the white fish and ceviche with a little of the tuna. We pan-fried small cubes of potato and had a superb meal for tea, followed by an excellent night's sleep. There was a rain squall at 0530 hours and I was up and about at 0615, feeling fully rested and raring to go.
I had fresh bread and cheese for breakfast. We were really living the good life, here in the East Lemons. The sun was shining and we were able to make water for four hours, without flattening the batteries. I managed to get the Movil app set up on Pete's phone, so hopefully, if Manuel and friends didn't return with the phone cards, we would be able to top up through the app. We were offered a magnificent red snapper but we declined, as we still had tuna left for our dinner. I regretted it later, as that was the last offering of fish that we received and we could have kept it in the fridge for the following couple of days.
I was sitting in the cockpit watching a yacht coming around the end of the island and said to Pete, 'That looks like Gilana, with the orange kayak on board, the wind turbine on the aft mast and those low windows.' Pete agreed and we had a look through the binoculars. Sure enough, it was Mike and Laura. They didn't head our way though, choosing to head up through Banadup S and behind the islands to anchor well away from most other boats. It was a long way around but they ended up anchoring about a mile in front of our position, on the other side of a reef.
We decided to take the dinghy across to yet another small island, that had a jetty and appeared to have a bar. There we were met by an excitable young dog, who tried to jump in the dinghy. He was very friendly and playful and wanted company. He sat at our feet in the bar and his name was 'Jallo'. The owners of the bar were friendly and welcoming but spoke no English and thought we were French. However, we did manage to converse quite well using my little bit of Spanish. The downside of this bar was the flies, although they eventually all congregated round the empty beer tins which Pete put on the far side of the table. We were also the only people there.
Back on board, we had the tuna for tea, which was beautifully fresh and delicious. We slept well again until it rained at 5am.
On Thursday, we had dolphins in the bay and we saw one of the ramoras again. I hoped that nobody had caught the other one. The anchorage became very busy with boat charters and the volume of the music was turned up at Nugnudub, with the genre changing to please the young people. A large cat pulled in and anchored close to the dock, followed by a charter yacht, which anchored too close alongside us. They all want to be as close to the dock and the beach as possible, so they can get their guests to the island quickly and cheaply. I gave myself a manicure and pedicure, while Pete watched the boats. Late afternoon, we went over to Nugnudub. They had run out of Aperol, so I had a G&T instead. Pete chatted to a few guys from London, part of a bigger group, who had chartered a skippered catamaran. They thought this was the best island they had visited, the others being too remote and quiet for them.
After dark, another charter yacht came in, somehow passing between us and the yacht to our starboard side. It had no navigation lights on, just a Luci light hanging on the pulpit and a red light in the cockpit. It obviously knew where it was going, as it anchored off the east end of the island and must have been close to the reef there. The yacht beside us had no anchor light either. People really don't know what they are chartering out here and there seems to be little or no regulations. The Argentinians left their fairy lights on in the cockpit and they were flashing all night. It was forecast to be stormy overnight and the weather did not disappoint. The lightning display was phenomenal and luckily only sheet, not fork. There was plenty of rain and the wind gusted strongly. The boats were swinging wildly from left to right and we were fearful of being hit by the yacht to starboard or by the Argentinians but at least we could see the latter. We didn't get any sleep until 4am when the wind suddenly calmed. When we awoke, the yacht and catamaran from inside us had both gone and were facing the beach, meaning they would have hit us if they had stayed, so it seemed they had at least been keeping a watch.
We were leaving today to find a better anchorage for the expected stormy nights to come. At least with the boats facing the beach, we were confident that our anchor wasn't under the Argentinian yacht. Pete had plenty of difficulty getting the anchor up though, as it was so well dug in. We departed at 0825 hours, before having breakfast and we were guided out through the reefs, into deeper water, by three dolphins. There was no wind and it was very humid. It was only 3 miles to East Lemon Cays, so we decided to motor there and take a look to see how busy it was. It's a deep anchorage, so we would want to be in the one area of shallow water, off the beach of the most northerly island. If it was busy, we would continue on to Isla Porvenir. As we motored north of the reefs, we could see that the only boat in the anchorage was the unattended catamaran, so we followed the Navionics chart, which we knew we could trust here and entered the lagoon, dropping 30m of chain at 2.9m depth and reversing into 4.4m under the keel. We were definitely on, as the anchor pulled chain out of the windlass. Hopefully, we would be comfortable here for the next few days.