Salinas, Puerto Rico

A word on our family dynamics . . .

So many of you are wondering on how we are getting along, in such close quarters and under sometimes stressful conditions.

First, let me start by saying that the kids are doing remarkably well. They have pretty much been each other’s only playmates, and continue to play well together. Oh, they do get on each other’s nerves every once in a while. But no more than they did at home and if they didn’t, I’d be worried. They had a few playmates in Salinas, Puerto Rico and seemed to enjoy the interaction, but they really do miss their friends in Arlington. They also seem to become very attached to adults we have met along the way. This, I believe, is because they are used to having other adults in their lives, such as teachers, neighbors, relatives and friends. They miss these relationships and have been creating new relationships with other adult cruisers we meet. I think separating from these new cruiser friends can be tough on them, but they have adjusted well and are comforted knowing they may meet them again as we all sail “down island.” And so are we.

Ron and I were married 20 years on October 13 and I don’t know what he thinks, but I think we’re gonna make it. We have bickered more than usual, but we never spent as much time together as we do on this trip, (weekends are just not the same as 24/7 for months at a time), so I’d say our adjustment to being together has gone very well. Most of our arguments revolve around very elemental things, like “we’re out of water again – DO something about it!” But then again it’s easy to lose your cool when you run out of water, or the anchor isn’t set and the boat drags, or the diesel engine stalls out . . . again. Nothing is terribly predictable out here on the water – the weather, the wind, the anchorages, and Irie. But without all the unpredictability, we wouldn’t be enjoying the adventure of our lives.

9/1/04 – Hurricane Haven. Salinas, Puerto Rico is second only to Luperon, Dominican Republic in its ability to provide sailors with adequate hurricane protection. Salinas’ harbors are deep and narrow and, most important, mangrove-ringed. Mangroves are woody trees which grow along tropical tide waters. These trees grow and extend their root systems and branches right into the water’s edge, providing many young reef-fish and small crustaceans with food and protection. And mangroves provide what some believe is the ultimate storm protection for boaters. Their dense growth pattern, flexible and forgiving branches and amazing height (more than 15 feet on some shorelines) all contribute to their protective quality. It is believed global warming is diminishing the mangrove’s numbers worldwide, their destruction due in part to higher tides and flooding. Their ultimate demise will be catastrophic to affording boaters and seaside communities a natural barrier against the wind and sea. If you’d like to learn more about Mangroves and the threats to their survival, check out this informative Internet link: http://www.szgdocent.org/ff/f-mngrv3.htm.

As we entered Salinas harbor, we were relieved to see it was not nearly as crowded as our other favorite hurricane haven, Luperon. There had been nearly 100 boats in Luperon’s hurricane hole; this harbor had maybe one-third that number. The water did have the familiar complexion of most mangrove harbors – dark and murky. However, it did appear to be significantly cleaner than Luperon’s; and we found mostly that it was. This was probably due to a more adequate sewage system (we later learned it had been improved in the last few years), a larger flow of tidal waters, and the smaller population of boats.

After taking a brief swing through the harbor, we decided to anchor away from the center and the marina, and closer to the mangrove edge. Since our spot was nearer to the harbor entrance and clearer water, we decided we could safely make water here using our reverse osmosis water maker. Besides, according to the manufacturer, the process removed enough impurities and made it possible to produce water anywhere, even while lying in a slip at a marina. (Ron loved to remind me of that anytime I questioned the water’s quality for water making purposes).

On our tour through the harbor, Haley spied Bruce Van Sant’s boat, Tidak Apa. Bruce is the author of The Gentleman’s Guide to Passages South, a sailing manual for making the trip to windward “thornless.” This is the book we had read rather religiously since leaving George Town, Bahamas. We had heard he was headed for Salinas, so we were not completely surprised to see his boat anchored here. The girls became excited to have a “celebrity” in the harbor and talked a lot about meeting him. We told them we would surely run into him at one of the marina events and we could meet him then.

We set our anchor and dinghied ashore to briefly explore Salinas before setting out by car to Ponce and finally, after two weeks in Puerto Rico, present ourselves to the U.S. Customs and Immigration folks.

9/3/04 – On the Road Again. Since we decided to bypass Ponce by boat, we instead headed back there by car. The road to Ponce, called an “autopista,” resembled any four-lane limited-access road in the United States, minus all the traffic. We hit this open road running, with the girls complaining we were going “too fast.” After traveling at less than 8 mph on Irie, going 65 mph in a car seemed like lightning speed. And indeed it was, as we found ourselves in Ponce, a thirty-mile ride, in less than 45 minutes. We did slow down to stop at a McDonald’s to have some familiar fast food before continuing on to Ponce.

We spent the next three days traveling between Salinas and Ponce, practically running the tires off the rental car. When we weren’t driving, we were shopping and visiting the lovely southern city of Ponce. It is the second largest city in Puerto Rico and is called the “Pearl of the South.” Ponce is a classic Spanish colonial city and resembles the architectural style of New Orleans. It is filled with hundreds of historic buildings, including the Customs and Immigration house, which have all been recently renovated or restored. And by the way, we did finally make it to Customs and Immigration where we were summarily processed and warmly welcomed back into the United States.

We enjoyed visiting the Museo de la Historia de Ponce and spent a morning in the Museo del Arte. This dignified building was designed by Edward Durrell Stone, the architect of the Museum of Modern Art in New York and boasts the largest collection of art in the Caribbean. I thought it a funny juxtaposition to be roaming around in our flip flops and shorts admiring 500 hundred-year old Western European Art.

No visit to Ponce would be complete without strolling through the Plaza Las Delicias (Plaza of Delights) eating a homemade soft-serve ice cream cone. We did just that, but not before visiting the highlight of MY trip to Ponce, the red-and-black striped Parque de Bombas or fire station. Built in 1882, this large, rather gaudy two story structure was actually built for an agricultural fair and only later became the city’s fire station. It hasn’t been used as a fire station for many years, but the city’s firefighters still consider it “home.” It is now a firefighting museum and contains many antique firefighting tools and a neat old pumper or fire engine. Needless to say, I asked Ron to take a picture of me in front of the pumper.

Just to counteract all of this culture, we decided to take a stock-up trip to Walmart. We’re embarrassed to say it ended up being several trips, but our original supplies were running low and a crew’s gotta do what a crew’s gotta do to keep their boat sufficiently provisioned.

9/6/04 – Indecisive Ivan. We had the car for a week and to make the most of it (the tires hadn’t been run off completely), we decided to take a drive to the Central Mountains. Our original plan had been to stay in the mountains for a couple of nights, but Hurricane Ivan was putting a crimp in our plans, having started his move North. We heard of this as we watched the Weather Channel – a first in months – at Frank’s Place in Salinas the night before over our plates of burgers and fries. One of the projected paths showed Ivan threatening the south coast of Puerto Rico, where we were currently located. To play it safe, we decided to leave for the mountains in the morning and stay only one night, arriving back in plenty of time to prepare for Ivan, if need be. The scuttlebutt at Frank’s seemed to be mixed; some boaters already removing their canvas and heading for the mangroves and others deeming the early preparations as “nonsense.” We were uncertain as to which group to believe, but decided that it would be ok to leave the boat for one night. In the morning we headed out for the hour and a half drive to Utuado in the Central Mountains.

The road to Utuado and the Casa Grande Mountain Retreat, the Inn where we would be staying, was a fast and smooth highway that abruptly came to an end a 30 minutes into our trip. The remainder of the trip was on a winding, narrow and steep mountain roads but with breathtaking views of the lush forested hillsides and valleys below.

The Casa Grande Retreat had been described in one guidebook as a “summer camp for adults, with a lot better food.” And it was just that. The hotel property sits on 107 acres of land, originally part of a 5,000 acre sugar, coffee, tobacco and cattle farm. Five rustic cottage-like buildings perched on the side of a hill housed four units apiece. Each unit had a private balcony and hammock. Our unit overlooked the tropical forested hillsides and a cascading river below. A beautiful old plantation home was where we enjoyed a lovely dinner that evening and delicious breakfast the next day. The girls were a little disappointed there was no TV in our room, but the large tiled bathroom with a spring-fed shower more than made up for it. They also had complete run of the pool, given we were one of only three groups of guests checked in at the time.

We had plans to take a few hikes, but instead took the opportunity to enjoy the fresh, cool mountain air from the comfort of our deck and hammock. The air was decidedly different from the ocean air we had grown so accustomed to and we found it to be a nice change. We also enjoyed the natural sounds of the rushing water, birds, bugs and best of all, the Coqui frogs. The Coqui frog is said to be the mascot of Puerto Rico. A species of tiny tree frogs, they are said to exist nowhere else in the world. I remember them from the first time I visited Puerto Rico with my family, more than 30 years ago. The males have a distinctive chirp that sounds like they are saying their name, (Co-KEE). Their serenade made quite a racket that evening and for a time, I wished we could somehow turn down the volume.

The following day, after a few more swims in the pool and several more showers (these are things you grow to appreciate after living without an unlimited water supply for almost three months) we headed out for a drive and a short hike up to the highest peak in Puerto Rico.

Cerra de Punta (Point in the Clouds) rises up 4,389 in the center of the island. From the top, you can see both the Atlantic Ocean and Caribbean Sea. We drove to the bottom of a steep access road leading to the peak and began walking the quarter mile up. The road was steep and, although the air was a cool 76 degrees, the sun was hot.

It was clear Nina was not going to make it. Haley and Ron were completely pumped to summit the peak, so they continued on to the top and Nina and I headed back down to the car. As we descended to the parking lot, a car making its way down the steep road stopped to greet us and to let us know that Ron and Haley had made it to the top. They also said we shouldn’t miss it and the views of the island and the oceans were beautiful. Now realizing we could drive up, I coaxed Nina into joining me for an “easy” drive up the road. She was reticent; I was determined: we drove “Indiana Jones” style up the narrow road (“Look out, Indy!”) and we reached the radio tower spiked summit just in time to join Ron and Haley on the viewing platform. The transmission whining ride was well worth the view of the seas on the two shores. Ron and Haley scoffed at us for driving up, but ended up taking the ride (or should I say “free fall”) back down in our trusty little rental car.

9/8/04 – “Some things just work out for the best . . . ” Most insurance carriers will not insure a boat for damage to the hull during hurricane season above Latitude 12 North. Our insurer was no exception. Statistically speaking, very few tropical Atlantic storms ever make landfall in latitudes below 12 North and thus they are deemed “safe” for boats during the storm season, July 1 - December 1. And all this is why we had originally planned on staying down to the ABC islands (Aruba, Bonaire and Curacao) and the islands off the coast of Venezuela and finally Trinadad, Tobago and Grenada during the hurricane months. (All these islands are below Latitude 12 North).

It was estimated that this year there were upwards of 3,000 boats in Grenada and the same or more in Trinidad hiding out from the hurricanes. On land, anchored, and in marinas. Thousands of boats. However, they were there because of actuarial statistics as to frequency of hurricanes, not because of topographic superiority. In fact, there are no significant protective harbors. And no protection from all of those other boats in the harbor. And then came Ivan. A Category 4 hurricane, he made landfall on the island of Grenada and it was estimated that close to 50 percent of the boats were either lost, sunk or sustained significant damage. We may have not made it all the way to Grenada by the time Ivan came along, but we would have come very close. Some things just work out for the best.

A few days after Ivan hit Grenada, we learned of at least two boats that had been anchored in Salinas harbor and had spent many a hurricane season there were lost in Grenada. Reportedly, they had moved their boats to Grenada after their insurance companies refused to continue covering them in Puerto Rico. This was an all-too-familiar story; we had heard of many other boats, from several cruisers and acquaintances along the way, who knew of boats that had headed out in July for Grenada to wait out hurricane season. We had heard of a few boats with children aboard wanting to move their families to a safer place. At the time, we were a little envious they had made the trip and we didn’t. We hope they have escaped any harm.

It has been a terribly active hurricane season, especially for Florida, with strong storms one after the other. Some here refer to Florida as “the bowling alley for hurricanes.” Another boater I met while we were in Salinas said to me, “Any hurricane season is bad if YOU get hit.” My parents have a place on Hutchinson Island, a barrier island on the southeast coast of Florida. Their house was hit by that monster of a hurricane, Frances and then the smaller Jeanne.

9/10/04 – Furry and Feathered Friends. Salinas turned out to be quite a menagerie, and the girls couldn’t have been more excited about it. By far our favorite furry or feathered friend we met in Salinas was Zooey (pronounced like “Zoe”) an incredibly intelligent eight and a half year old salmon-crested Cockatoo. Zooey lived with Marianne and Frank. Marianne had a canvas shop right outside the marina gates where Zooey spent most of her weekdays entertaining the customers. We used any excuse to stop by the shop and watch Zooey swing and strut around her cage. She took a particular liking to Ron (Marianne said she favored men) and the girls and I got a big kick out of how she would flirt and show off for him when she saw him. She got to know all of us and would greet us with loud screeches (her “happy” sound) whenever we came into the shop. The girls and I even had the chance to hold her. She looked incredibly big against Nina with her large talons wrapped around her little forearm. She loved the attention and seemed to enjoy posing for pictures. The girls and I miss her very much and look forward to visiting her on our return to Salinas.

Across the street from Marianne’s canvas shop was a bar and restaurant called “Frank’s Place.” Frank, the owner, was a former cruiser and an Italian from East Haven, CT. (There’s that “Connecticut Connection” again.) Ron and I kind of guessed he had to be from the Northeastern U.S., especially given the sign outside said he served “Apizza.” As it turns out, a few years back Frank had actually worked for the famous Pepe’s Apizza in New Haven, CT. Although he did not have the recipe, he had the touch for making a great New Haven style pizza or “pie.” We liked it so much, we started taking most of our meals at Frank’s. But Frank’s was much more than just a place to eat. It was a friendly neighborhood bar frequented by pleasant regulars with a gregarious Italian owner who loved to cook. It was almost enough to make us spend the rest of our cruising year in Salinas, especially when Frank said he would try to get the ingredients to make a white clam pizza for us. In the end, he could not find the ingredients and we had a boat maintenance appointment to get to. Maybe on our next swing through Salinas, we’ll get that white clam pie at Frank’s Place.

Among the many canine friends we had met in Salinas, we had to say our favorite was Rat Dog. Rat, or Ratty as the girls and I began calling him was a portly (“well loved,” some would say) little black mutt with more than a splash of Chihuahua. Rat hung out in the marina parking lot and over the years had been adopted by the boaters at the marina. His tag said it all; it read simply, “Rat Dog - I Belong to: Everyone.” We actually met Rat the first night we ate at Frank’s. He followed us over to Frank’s from the marina parking lot. He spent half his time hanging out with the security guards at the marina (his evening “beat” – the guards dressed in black, too) and the other half at Frank’s. He took an immediate liking to Ron and gave us all a start and a good laugh when he jumped into Ron’s lap at the table. It was a trick he would repeat any time you commanded him to – and when he felt like it – and sometimes when you weren’t expecting it. But our favorite was his grin. Happily, I was able to get a picture of him grinning at the girls as we said our goodbyes on our last day in Salinas.

We could have picked up a mutt of our own, but declined much to Nina and Haley’s displeasure. Salinas, as is the case in many parts of Puerto Rico, was overrun with stray dogs and cats. Several locals, expatriates mostly, and cruisers were very active in rescuing these sad creatures. And thanks to these good people, a few lucky dogs were finding good homes within the local and cruising community of Salinas.

9/12/04 – Close Aquatic Encounter. The relatively calm harbor of Salinas made it a perfect place for a sea kayak. On this particularly glassy calm morning, I set out in ours to visit Reggie and John aboard Liberty. Liberty is a glorious 48 foot racing ketch. The interior has been beautifully restored by John, a retired college professor and cabinet maker. It has a dark blue hull, something I’ve always favored, and a large center cockpit. But best of all, at least in Nina’s estimation, it is home to not one, but THREE Chihuahuas. Nina has recently developed a bit of an obsession with Chihuahuas and we thought she would burst when she heard Reggie and John had so many. Sure enough, on my visit, there they were on deck yapping away at me. I reported back to Nina that she and Haley were cordially invited to visit the buggy-eyed bunch and she couldn’t have been more pleased.

As I paddled the kayak back toward Irie, I noticed my family was on deck quietly observing something in the water. When I asked what they were up to, they shushed me and pointed to a gray mound in the water. That gray mound turned out to be the biggest manatee I had ever seen. I was within 25 feet of it, so I decided to slowly paddle up to it and see what would happen. Just as I was about to reach him, he lumbered back under water. (I refer to it as a him, but I have no way of knowing if it was a he or a she.) I floated patiently in the kayak to see if he would resurface. In a few minutes, he came back up right alongside me. He startled me as he resurfaced and blew air out of his big round nostrils. He floated for a while on his side next to me, chewing on some sea grass and descended again. I paddled back to the boat and asked Nina to join me in the kayak. We paddled back to the same spot and waited. He resurfaced again, this time nudging up against the kayak and flipping onto his back, with his head partially out of the water to get a good look at us. He looked sleepily at us with his big brown eyes and long eyelashes. Then he twisted and waved his flippers as if to say goodbye before he descended for the last time that morning.