April 1 - 15

Venezuela

We arrived the next morning at the small island of Isla Testigos (Venezuela - see map at bottom of this page), populated by just a few hundred fishermen and their families.

It was a nice place to rest during the day and play palas on the beach that afternoon. A little girl spoke in Spanish with Tes, and showed us her monkey in a cage.

We made a long day sail to Isla Margarita, arriving just after sunset to a large bay with all the yachts huddled together in an area near the beach and jetties.

After long formalities and a 2 hour wait in the bank for money (credit cards don't work in machines there), we missed the appointment with the immigration officer, so had to see him again on Monday. Corruption is rife in the Porlamar immmigration and customs office, and the officials asked for fees which they gave no receipts for.

Security was also a big issue and we took taxis everywhere. Police wore flak jackets and large rifles at the beach, and one night bullets were heard flying over boats. Just locals getting excited over Easter celebrations, apparently.

But the sailing community there are very helpful and friendly, and we chanced on a party next to Juan's shop and spent Saturday afternoon and night there with many drinks, songs and talking with fellow yachties. The next day was written off for Tes, and then it was Monday, when she was flying out.

We finished immigration formalities and I took Tes to a small restaurant on the beach for a farewell fish lunch.

Somehow Tes managed to pack all her belongings with her in her backpack and carry bags. Finally we said goodbye at the airport. I felt choked up with sadness that now she was gone. Well, I have also been lucky, looking back, that she came into my life and enriched it, in a special relationship with me.

I spent the following days looking for parts for the boat, trying to rectify battery problems, and brooding sulkily. At other times I just sulked broodily, over losing Tes and a myriad of possibilities I had envisioned together.
I found the battery terminal junctions needed cleaning and greasing and it improved the radio reception a little, but transmitting was still a problem unless I ran the engine before using it.

There was a local VHF radio network run by friendly cruising yachties. They gave weather information and advice looking for spare parts which was useful. Juan is a local character and has a small jetty with a shop selling beer, renting movies and has an assortment of books. He provides a map and assists with local information. He has a guy who can deliver cooking gas and fuel, which I used. Diesel costs a few cents per litre so it was economic to fill up completely. It was fortunate it was cheap because my tanks were almost completely empty.

Getting local money is a real problem in Venezuela, unless some form of hard currency is taken into the country. I had not realised this and did not have much US dollars, so had to really scrimp on what I bought, mainly just food, fuel and an inverter (which broke after just 1 hour of use) for the boat. The bank took 2 hours to get through to the teller on the only day we attempted that option. I gave up after that but I did not feel good to be unable to access funds. I advise anyone travelling to Venezuela to bring US dollars which can be exchanged unofficially at almost triple the rate from the bank's rate.

Finally my funds were depleted and I checked out. After insisting on a receipt from Customs, and suggesting it could be corruption to take fees without an official receipt, the officer suddenly said I did not need to pay the fee. A pity I hadn't also insisted on a receipt from the immigration officer I visited earlier.

I had an easy overnight sail to Tortuga island, though it was tough on my sleep pattern, resetting the alarm to wake me up every 20 minutes, as I was now sailing solo. I brought in a 2 foot baracuda on the way in but the 2 lines became entangled and lost the fish as I tried lifting it.

I arrived in the small offlying island of Cayo Herradura and gingerly threaded my way through some reef to a large sandy bay. Coral and shallow spots are easy to depict from the dark patches and various shades of green and blue water. The anchorage was shallow, and dropped anchor in only 4 metres in sand and slept for a few hours after scraping some barnacles off the hull with a spatula. The beach ashore was a brilliant white colour and contrasted markedly to the pale green water and purple/blue sky. I motored ashore in the dinghy and walked to some small fishermen's shacks on the beach. They waved and smiled at me, and I took a few pictures of the island. I missed the opportunity to practice some Spanish on these locals, or even buy a fish. But I just went back and weighed anchor for another overnight sail.

In the morning I had a wonderful sail along the south atoll of the isla Rochas archipelago. The sea was lovely and flat and had the typical torquoise and blue colour bands with white sand underwater. A group of dolphins greeted me and seemed to play at the bow looking up at me.

I felt consoled to be sailing here, with the sun smiling and water sparkling. I anchored near 2 other yachts and walked along the beach where many pelicans and boobies were sitting and catching fish. I left late the next morning and had a gentle rolling motion from a following sea and 20knot wind.

I threaded my way through the reefs in Islas Aves Barlovento (windward bird island) and was amazed by the quantity of birds roosting in trees there. Taking the dinghy ashore I found red footed boobies nesting in the trees with fluffy white chicks, and a raucus carcophony of bird calls. From this page, it appears I have an obsession for boobies (some might say they knew that already!). There were plenty here of different varieties and colours, and weren't shy to photograph. The pelicans were harder to get near, but were speckled brown, unlike the white and black winged Australian pelicans.

The water was very clear and tranquil around the mangrove roots, and I saw a metre long bream and large porcupine fish curiously peeping up at me. A turtle and then a stingray flashed past in another pool along the mangrove shore.

The reefs were even better here than in the Tobago Cays, and I enjoyed the clear green water, looking down at bulbous, yellow brain coral, orange staghorn corals, and little colourful fish. Some squid pulsed toward me and long, stripey baracudas came nearby for a look. I liked the tiny yellow and blue banded fish and black ones with deep purple spots.
Wonderful nature was all around me and though the life there seemed to accept me being with them, I felt an emptiness of being alone.

Days passed in this lovely anchorage. I repaired holes in the dinghy, investigated my engine, and replaced a navigation light which had blown. I ate my breakfasts and dinners in the cockpit admiring tall stands of trees and bushy mangroves, dynamic birdlife and the turquoise and purple water of the reefs all around.

It was raining in the morning when I wanted to leave, and so I wrote this page and waited for clearer sky to be able to see the reefs to negotiate my way out. Then an easy downwind sail 15miles to another group of islands called Aves Sotovento. I dropped anchor in the lee of an island with 2 coconut palms on it and motored the dinghy to the next little island to visit the inhabitants.

They were 3 Venezuelan fishermen, a man and his friend and a son. I brought a bottle of wine, cups, beer, and smiled with some basic greetings in Spanish. They were friendly and happy to have me as a guest, offering me dinner of cooked bananas, beef, rice and salad. For a very basic way of living, they ate well. They had made their shelter from bits of wood, corrugated iron and had mats and sleeping sheets in the sand. We talked, half in English, half Spanish with the aid of my small dictionary to translate. They live there for a few months a year catching fish and lobsters and sell them on to a bigger boat who resells on to the markets in Curacao. They told me the tourist economy was suffering especially from Americans who don't come to Venezuela so much now, due to political differences. Perhaps things may change with the new president. Also the price of diesel is incredibly cheap - he bought the 70 litres of fuel, in the blue drum in front of the hut, for around 80 cents. I enjoyed meeting these people and having some easy social interaction again.

The next morning I set off for a day sail to Bonaire, with a kind sea, moderate wind and warm weather.