Sampling Life aboard a Sailboat

by Audrey Alleyne-Quiniou

Our French friend Roger seemed surprised when I asked him if he had found us a hotel. He, together with his friend Bruno and his female traveling companion Laurence, had been waiting for us at the marina in Margarita. Our charter flight from Tobago had been three hours late, but Roger was there with his friends to whisk us away in a hired taxi.

It was only then that we knew that he expected us to stay on board his boat Canelle. He told us that he would take us to Caracas on the mainland, where my friend Shari was scheduled to have Lasik eye surgery .We were led to believe that he trip would last only about three days. At this point, we were certainly not aware of what was in store for us. We would be sailing on the sea for 11 days before reaching civilization. Eventually, when reality struck, we discovered we were actually living the life of yachties.

As a newspaper reporter, I had interviewed yachties and written articles about them in newspapers back in Tobago, but I never for one moment imagined what it would really be like for me to live that lifestyle.

Before I left on this trip, I had been feeling really worn out and stressed. I kept repeating “I need a change of pace, a change of lifestyle!” Well, change of pace and change of lifestyle it was indeed; sailing from island to island where long stretches of white coral sand were deserted, except for happy birds darting into the waters for food, fishermen at evening tide, and yachtie tourists on the beaches.

There are 72 islands which lie off Venezuela’s 2,800km. of coastline. Of these islands, Margarita is the largest and most populated. The remaining islands comprise the archipelagos of Los Roques and Las Aves, the national parks of Moroccoy and Mochina, and the large islands of Tortuga, Los Testigos, la Blanquilla, la Orchila and Aves.

The archipelago of Los Roques is probably the best known of Venezuela’s Caribbean islands. The area has been named a national park since 1972 and is one of Venezuela’s most beautiful sights.

On the way to Los Roques, our first stop was Cubagua, but we never came off the boat. We set off around 6:30a.m the following day for the island of Tortuga. My eight year old daughter Candy entertained herself throwing out fishing lines. She caught three large fishes on the first day; a small ballyhoo, a bonito and a large dolphin.

On the second day, we all exclaimed at Candy’s catch when we saw it fighting on the line in the water. Bruno hastened to assist her in pulling it up on the boat. When he finally succeeded, he exclaimed “Mais, c’est un monster!” So we called it Candy’s monster fish.

We arrived at Tortuga late in the night after 17 hours of sailing. When we awoke the following morning, we recognized friends of Roger; a French couple Vincent and Myriam, on their boat Sea Adler . We took my daughter Candy’s monster fish, a pot of rice, some vegetables and some bottles of wine ashore to a lovely sandy beach, where Bruno barbecued the fish.

Vincent and Myriam recounted how they had assisted a French family who had lost their boat the day before, after running aground a reef nearby. They were still shaken by the fact that the family had been sailing for 16 years with the same boat and had now lost everything. “It doesn’t matter how long you have been sailing” they said “when you’re on the sea, you just never know what could go wrong.” We listened to these words, unaware of what our fate would be.

Roger now decided that we would only sail at night so as to approach the low-lying islands in daylight. At every anchorage there were boats; small sailboats and luxurious yachts sometimes many, sometimes few. There were boats with families and dogs aboard, boats with parents and children; boats everywhere. Most of them were French. We saw neither German, nor Italian, nor West Indian boats, only French. We saw one boat with a British flag and another with an American flag. We learnt that many French families were living this yachtie lifestyle, having giving up their homes in France . They were oppressed by heavy taxes, and escaped for a period of time to live on the water.

I was terribly seasick. Shari, my daughter and I felt like we had been kidnapped. There was no way we could escape the boat or the sea. There was a thrilling sense of being out alone on the ocean in the middle of the night with the moon and the stars above you, and nothing else but a lone ship hundreds of miles away in the distance. There was also an eerie feeling in the subconscious of what would we do if we were in danger.

I had to remain lying down at all times when the boat was in motion. My daughter and I were curled up in a small space on deck one night, while Shari snoozed comfortably in the cabin. A sudden gust of wind brought the mainsail crashing to the side of the boat, tilting it on its side. I screamed. I saw Laurence bend over holding her head, as Bruno and Roger fought desperately to balance the boat.

Shari appeared in the doorway of the cabin. ”Stay in there!” we yelled. “Don’t come out!” as we looked at the menacing boom, still swaying dangerously to and fro with a lot of flapping noises in its wake.

When everything quieted down, I asked Laurence if she had been hit. “Yes” she said, showing me the bump on her forehead. “I thought you all had fallen into the sea” said Shari as we applied wet towels to Laurence’s injured forehead.

We eventually arrived at Los Roques, where there were so many yachts, it took us quite a while to anchor. Almost immediately, we went ashore to organize supplies of water and gas. We then took a tour of the little village with its roads of hot sand. We admired the tiny airport where there were more flights arriving and departing than at our Piarco International airport in Trinidad.

The following day we sailed through the relentless scorching sun to the island of Cayo Madrizki. This was followed by the national park of Crasqui, the beauty of which will remain in my memory forever. Our evening walk took in a long stretch of coral white sand, with perfectly clear water all around. There were fishermen relaxing after a long day of fishing, and myriads of birds with their long beaks darting in and out of the water for their evening supper. Others already satiated, swam around in clusters. A magnificent sunset reminded me of John Keats’ poem, “A thing of beauty is a joy forever.”

We returned to Los Roques, where we joined the villagers dancing in their fiesta. That night we saw the last of Bruno and Laurence. We bid goodbye to them when they booked into a hotel. They flew back to Guadeloupe the following day. Their holidays had ended.

The rest of us now set off for Caraballeda. From there, we finally headed by bus to Caracas for Shari’s eye surgery. We booked into a small hotel. Two days later, her surgery successfully completed, we returned to Canelle, intending to head for Puerto la Cruz. There, we were to leave Roger, take the ferry to Margarita and board a flight for Tobago.

At Carenero on the mainland, fate stepped in to make Shari, my daughter and I leave the boat sooner than expected. We anchored in a lagoon surrounded by mangroves, and had a surprise visit from Vincent and Myriam. They were anchored off a private boat club, and had seen us arrive. They joined us for a dinner of baked chicken, broccoli, mashed potatoes, whisky, wine and champagne. Our friends left late in the night, in high spirits.

I do not know if Roger had too much to drink that night, but our very pleasant evening was shattered by a nasty personal row between him and Shari who had rejected his advances towards her. Shari threatened to leave the boat. She and my daughter Candy started throwing our clothes wildly into our bags. The night of argument lasted until 5.00a.m, with Roger still agreeing to take us to Puerto la Cruz.

It was no wonder he was still asleep on deck, when a change of wind and current caused Canelle to tangle with a nearby boat. We heard a crash and looked out to see an anchor smashing against Canelle . A panic-stricken hour followed while we attempted to push away the other boat, position fenders and summon help. Some of our neighbors just sat back on their yachts and watched the spectacle.

Eventually, who should come to our rescue but our friend Vincent, the very one who

had rescued the French family when their boat sank. He finally freed our boat from the other. However, diving under the boats, both he and Roger were cut by shells and stung by jellyfish. Some rope had also been caught in the propeller, and Vincent advised that with no engine and the type of wind that evening, we should not venture to sail to Puerto la Cruz,

We knew then that we had to leave the boat. Rather subdued by the day’s ordeal, Roger accepted our decision. “It’s in times like these I feel like giving up sailing.” He told Vincent.

He took us ashore in the dinghy, and we had a farewell drink with him, Vincent and Myriam at the marina restaurant. Myriam happened to be leaving the following day for France, so Roger and Vincent decide to sail together to Puerto la Cruz. When we bid them goodbye, Roger was truly sad to see us go.

We had a change of four little old buses before boarding the Pullman for Puerto la Cruz, where we finally got in a bit of shopping. We spent the night in a small hotel, and boarded the ferry for Margarita the following day, to head directly to the airport for our flight home.

Our little adventure as yachties had truly been a change of pace, a change of lifestyle.

For many people, sailing whether as fishermen, shipping crew, charter boat skippers or passengers, is a way of life. However, many have not sampled the experience of being a pleasure cruising yachtie.

If you ever feel like you need a change of pace or lifestyle, a wonderful experience is that of living on the water for a while. I spent three weeks with my eight year old daughter and friends sailing around the islands on the north coast of Venezuela for a different type of vacation.