Questing in Quito - August 6-7, 2013

The first leg of our inland adventure took us to Quito. We had the option of paying $7.50 per person for the 8 hour bus trip from Bahia de Caraquez, but we splurged right off the bat and sprung for the "executive" bus at $10 each. An easy trip but always the question needs to be asked..."why does the air conditioning need to be set on Arctic?"

We settled into our hostel, after being turned away from our first choice - apparently no room at the inn. Colonial House was a funky maze of rooms and cubbies in a 200 year old building, complete with wi-fi, a cooler full of Pilsners, and a great back garden (check out the gym equipment).  The cost....$10/person.

Colonial House, Quito

The Gym, Quito-Way

Shower Instructions

 I had put together an itinerary that called for our first day of exploring to be The Day of Views. We first tried an assault on the hill holding up El Panecillo, the Virgin of Quito, and what was to be the Holiest View. We started up the steps but quickly turned around when a local woman passed us heading in the opposite direction. Shaking her finger at us and swiping it across her throat, we got the message (easily understood in any language) and opted for a taxi instead. The 360 degree view was worth the $4 cab ride.

El Panecillo - Virgin of Quito

El Jefe - Non-Virgin of Sundancer

Next was the Deadliest View, at the Basilica del Voto Nacional. Scrambling through the interior of the church's roof, we climbed up rickety steps to get to the top of the exterior roof and then higher to the belfry, and still higher to the uppermost tower.

El Basilico del Voto Nacional

Into the Bowels

My Bat-in-the-Belfry

Combined with Quito's 2800 meter altitude, surely this was the closest Ron and I had been to God in a loooonnnngggg time.

Ending our first day was The Strangest View, at the Monastery of Santa Catalina. Actual cloistered nuns, gruesome crucifixes, and the secreted bones of an assassinated Ecuadorian president, rounded out the day in a certain style. The trip to this bell tower was also pretty great.

Santa Catalina Monastery View

 Our first day drew to a close with an awesome pizza at The San Blas Cafe, within walking distance of our hostel and just around the corner from the Bellamonte Plaza de Toros (bullfights now suspended by the current, not deceased, president). We ended up having every dinner at the San Blas.  While we didn't visit the islands, we DID get great food.

Not a bad way to start our inland travels...

But I wanna go NOW!

Obviously it takes a certain type of individual to take up cruising. The word “individual” is really the key. All of us out here are truly unique and I would say that by and large, we all march to our own, and very personal, drummer’s beat. The fact that we have all eschewed sticking close to family and friends, and all those things tried and true, but have instead chosen to depart for lands and seas unknown, make us anomalies in the world. We’ve “left”, and continue to leave when we decide the time is right to move on. Which makes our time in Colombia fraught with personal angst.

All was going swimmingly. Although Ron had picked up an annoying cold along the way, we were still plowing onwards and seeing the sights and sounds of this very unique country. And then it all ground to a halt. While in San Agustin, wandering amongst the “estatuas” of some unknown and long-ago people, we heard rumblings that as of Sunday midnight, there was going to be a nation-wide strike. Coffee workers, those underpaid, and underappreciated labourers, were finally pissed off enough to resume their struggle against El Presidente, demanding better wages and a review of the Free Trade agreement with the US of A. The coffee industry had essentially tanked, along with most of the agriculture business, and with the foreign companies’ monopolies over seeds and fertilizers, the campesinos had been pushed to the breaking point. Strike it was, and fellow Colombians, those in the transportation sector also protesting high fuel costs (let’s put it in perspective – Ecuador, a neighboring country, was selling gas for $1.00 usd/gallon. Venezuela, with its subsidies, was selling gasoline for an insane $.06/gallon. Panama to the north, was selling gas for around $3.80 usd/gallon. Colombia, although purchasing gas from its neighbors, had gas at the pumps for close to $5.00/gallon!), decided to support.

At first, the bus companies just didn’t run, but as the strike continued into day 4, there were reports of blockades cutting off major roads. Rocks, piles of burning logs, vehicles and other assorted traffic-stopping trash, were all heaped in the middle of highways, making roads impassable. The bus companies wanted to renew operations, losing money hand over fist daily, but in some states, it was either too dangerous or impossible to continue. And we were smack dab in the middle of it.

When we heard that the protests were starting to escalate, we figured it might be time to think about getting out of Dodge. While the roads were still navigable, and along with the National Police ensuring safe passage, we left Bogota on a night bus and began to head south, going to Cali, with the intention of continuing immediately onward to the Ecuadorian border. But we were North Americans and didn’t quite grasp the severity of what was going on. I myself have never been inconvenienced by a strike. Ron had a bit of experience with it, with family members walking a picket line back in Kentucky, but nothing like this. What do you mean we can’t go where we wanted to?!? Our sailor brains, and our individual-like spirits were confused. Ron seemed to handle it better than I. He was still under the weather, and holed up in a hostel for a few days, to him, was not the end of the world. I resolved to chill. Harder done than said. Frankly, I had no choice. Each day we checked the bus schedules to see if operations would resume. Each day we perused the internet for news. Each day we eagerly turned on the television to see if there had been some progress in the talks.

After day 7, I had had enough. All the Colombians we spoke with were not optimistic. Although Latin Americans have the annoying habit of telling tourists what they want to hear, in this case there was much head shaking, with the words…..”El Presidente is muy mal.” (The President is very bad). I was frankly pleased that this oft maligned country was democratic enough to not mow down protesters. And although the Police were definitely out in force, there were mostly harmless scuffles between the government and the people.

But……. …..we were still in Cali. I might not have had such itchy feet if the city had a bit more to see and do. While obviously doing well, and the neighborhood we found ourselves in was very safe and upscale, it was still just a big city. No ruins, no interesting Central Historical Area, just a big city with the corresponding high prices attached. We were racking up the costs, but I wanted (needed) to get a move on. After assuring Ron that I was good and chill and could stay put for a while longer (we were into day 10 of the “conflicto”by now), I secretly stole away to check airline schedules. Everyone we spoke to said that if it wouldn’t be resolved in another day or two, the strike could take a while longer to sort itself out. So, I bought airline tickets.

In an effort to save a bit of money, we needed to go north before we went south. The roads south to the border were closed. The roads around Bogota were barricaded. The roads in the far north in coffee growing country were dangerous. In a bit of irony, despite the past 30 years of media hype about how violent Medellin was due to Pablo Escobar and his cronies, we decided that this was the place to head to via bus, and then jump on a plane to Bogota and onwards to Quito. So we did. The first leg of our dash to the border had us passing hordes of campesinos on the sides of the roads. We were visited every 20 kilometers or so by the police, wandering the aisles and checking luggage. It wasn’t scary, but I was composing this blog entry in my mind as we went along.

Two days later, after wandering Medellin and seeing the amazing results of what North Americans dependence on drugs will provide a city (a world-class metro system and a cable car linking mountain-top communities with the city, all “supposedly” provided by Escobar) we headed to the airport. More road blocks, more protesting, more delays, but we made it. I’m not sure in all my years of air travel for business that I was ever more relieved to be in an airport. The welcoming and “still-flying arms” of the planes were our best friends. A few hours later, we were back in Ecuador.

We were never in danger. This is NOT a country to be avoided. The Colombian people have the distinct privilege of being able to protest what they believe to be injustices in their world. When you compare our flight, and their struggles, to what is going on in Syria and North Korea, the inconveniences were mere ripples in our daily lives. More importantly, it again punctuates why we as North Americans are so very fortunate, and how as cruisers, we must surely be amongst the most lucky people on the planet.

Reasons # 4 +

We've been here in Bahia de Caraquez for a week, and the time, typically, has flown by.  Upon arrival, we were so thrilled to be here, having conquered (or at least becoming friends with) the mighty Pacific, that there was a bit of an adrenaline burst.  After getting an amazing sleep last Saturday night, on perfectly calm and flat waters, we woke up ready to blitz the town.  We weren't too bothered about not checking in, as our passports had been taken from us by the Puerto Amistad piloto, Pedro, and we were assured that paperwork would be gotten underway for us. 

Order of business, of course, was beer for Ron.  He assures me that he's not drunk all the time, but that it's just like water, and as it's cheaper than sodas (and probably better for him, anyway), I can't complain.  But we ran into a glitch.  It was Sunday, and Ecuador is a dry country on Sundays.  Ron would have to wait.  We lowered the dinghy and proceeded to go visiting the various boats we knew here in the anchorage, specifically both Serenity (Debi and Victor) and Victoria (Alan).  A mercy beer to Ron from Victor, and a few strawberries for me, and we got the lay of the immediate land and headed over to Victoria to see our long-lost buddy, Alan, on his Hudson Force 50.  Mercy rum for Ron, and mercy red wine for me, and we regaled each other with tales of our individual journeys from Panama City to Ecuador. 

Several hours later, Alan took us for dinner in "town".  Actually, we treated him, but he showed us where to go.  Sitting outside on the sidewalk, we ordered the special, which turned out to be 1/2 of a bbq chicken, a foil wrapped baked potato, a helping of cabbage salad, and a huge plate of rice and beans for all of us.  Combined with a Fanta and Coke, and the bill came to $13.  Awesome food, with VERY attractive prices.  This is Reason # 4 to like Ecuador. 

Per my Facebook posting a few days later, Reason #2 and 3 were the strawberries and grapes we found at the local mercado.  What a pleasure to be able to walk to the local market, instead of having to taxi, like we did in Panama City.  Already we were saving the $10-20 fare we had been spending for the last 6 months, each time we needed groceries.  Suffice it to say that in comparison, this small town has an enormous leg up on the fruit and vegie situation, over the huge city of Panama.  The quality and variety is better than we've seen in years.  Not since Mexico, as a matter of fact.  I asked for $1 worth of cilantro (the first we had seen in a year) and was startled when I got a floral bouquet sized bunch.  Suffice it to say, that I opted for 50 cents worth instead. 

Just a sample of the quality here

Reason #5.....a dinghy dock that is solid and secure, without the added bonus of used condoms. 

Reason #6 is the weather.  Yes, our blood these days is thin.  However, I don't care who you are, but if you don't like 78 degrees during the day, WITH sunshine, then you need to reassess.  I even pulled out our neglected duvet which had been relegated to the v-berth a year and 1/2 ago. We are able to sleep in the same bed, hug each other without needing a shower afterwards, get outdoor projects done without passing out from the heat and humidity, and I can contemplate cooking something in the oven without the dire side effects of raising the temperatures in the galley.  Our power consumption is lower, as the fridges and freezer don't need to work so hard, as both the air and water temperatures are 20 degrees lower.  We are so grateful. 

A few days ago, Ron was able to get his much needed beer.  As he got a case (12) of double bottles, it would have been a bit much to carry all the way back to the dinghy.  So instead of embarking upon a convoluted and irritating negotiation with a cabbie, per Panama, we hailed a bicycle driver, with room for two and a bunch of groceries.  It was 50 cents.  I'd say that was a huge Reason #7.

We've been laying pretty low.  Two trips to town have made up our entire social schedule for the week.  We discovered after the adrenaline rush of arrival, we tanked and have been sleeping, and puttering, and have been slowly building up our enthusiasm levels again. 

Now that we are in a spot where the boat is safe and secure, we're turning our sights to the south American travel we've been researching and reading about.  Itineraries have been completed.....on Tuesday we're off to Quito and then north into Columbia for a few weeks.  So the next posting will be "News on the Road". 

Over and out.....

Captain's Log....

Saturday, July 20th
Night.  Scary.  REALLY SCARY! In all my years of living in lightning country, tonite took the cake.  Both Ron and I agreed it was the worst lightning storm either of us had ever lived through.  For the first time ever, I covered my eyes and ears with a pillow to avoid having to deal with it all, in true ostrich fashion.  Hours and hours of strikes directly overhead, and miracle of miracles, we didn't get hit.  God was giving it one last go - GET OUT OF PANAMA OR ELSE!

Sunday, July 21st
We did, and left bright and early the next morning.  I admit to trepidation.  Our last attempt to make it to Ecuador didn't end the way we would have liked, but as we all know with sailing, you need to adjust expectations periodically.  It was sunny, and although we were motoring with the main up, all was well.  Then, of course, clunk, clunk, THUNK.  Ron threw the gear lever into neutral, went below to check "stuff", and came up and said "we have to go overboard to check the propeller."  Now, anyone that knows us knows that in this case, "we" means "Heather".  Adrenaline stampeding through my veins, I tossed off my clothes while Ron found the snorkeling gear.  Stark, raving naked (funny phrase - must you always be stark and raving if you are naked, one wonders?) with flippers and a mask on (can't you just picture it? - you shouldn't, but.....).  Sure enough, a tree sized branch, combined with 55 miles of various diameter line, had wrapped itself around our propeller.  Ron threw me a fancy/schmancy Japanese saw used to removed teak plugs flush to the deck, and I proceeded to cut away the offender.  No harm, no foul, and 20 minutes later we were underway again.  Just another day in the life.....

Monday, July 22nd
Our routing was a point of discussion.  Everyone has an opinion.  The last time we went out, we were told "go west, go west", in order to avoid a north-setting current along the coast. We did and got the snot beat out of us due to swells.  This time, Ron had done a bit of research on currents, and found an interesting link on the NOAA website, http://www.oscar.noaa.gov/.  Very enlightening and basically showed a highway running from north to south that we could follow.  This changed our routing from our last attempt to this one and we were much happier.  The winds were still on our nose, and we closehaul motor-sailed, but at least we were making 4-5knots.  All good.

Tuesday, July 23rd
It's now been two nights out, and not a hint of lightning.  We are very grateful.  We had a moment (brief) that we shut the motor off to give it a break, and actually got out the genoa for a few hours.  Still cloudy, and we would still like a bit more wind, but I say it quietly, just in case I should jinx our conditions.

Wednesday, July 24th
Crap conditions today.  Should have known better than to ask for more wind.  We got it, directly ahead of us.  The staysail was the hero today, giving the engine a bit of help, but not much.  Big swells coming also from the southwest, so terribly uncomfortable.  8-10' breaking waves, WTF?  Not again!!!!  We're following 80 degrees west, so at least the current seems to be helping, rather than hindering.  Crossed the Columbia/Ecuadorian border.  Spotted a sailboat in the distance and made contact with Frangapani, a boat we had identified a few weeks earlier in the Las Brisas anchorage.  They too had been miserable....Told us about a spot that they were headed to called Punta Same, to see some friends, just slightly south of Esmereldas.  We thought that might not be a bad idea.

Thursday, July 25th
Arrived Punta Same.  It was rolly, but what the hell, we were used to it.  Looked exactly like the Las Hadas area of Manzanillo, Mexico, albeit with no sunshine.

A few black flags to avoid, fishing lines, and 30+ pangas returning back from sea in the morning.  Had a great breakfast, and wandered the decks doing a bit of tweaking with some of the shackles, and bits.  Lazy day.

Friday, July 26th
A not-so-bright, and early start to the day.  Put on a pair of pants and a longish-sleeved shirt for the first time on the boat in 3 years!!!  Bigger winds today, 15-20 knots, more swells, blah, blah, blah.  But we had a party to look forward to.

The Equator!

Captain Ron is now a Shellback

Party ON!

Yes, we drink and sail

We had made sure to stock up on party supplies prior to our departure from Panama City, as we knew that we needed to do it up as we crossed the equator.  After much searching I finally found where I had stashed the Champagne (in the clothes cupboard, where else?!) As it always happens, it was at an unfortunate time of 11:53pm.  But the hats came out, the bottle was popped and poured.  Ron was channeling his inner Minnie Pearl (can you spot why?)

Saturday, July 27th

We had sent Tripp, owner of the mooring field at Puerto Amistad in Bahia Caraquez, where we hoped to pick up a ball for our stay while in South America, an email the day prior informing him our intended arrival time.  Unfortunately, we missed the high tide but were able to hang out at the mouth of Rio Chone, until the next high at 6pm.  As it was going to get dark quickly, we just threw out an anchor after we literally threaded our way through the mouth.  Not for the faint of heart, so we were glad to have Pedro, our faithful Piloto aboard guiding us through the VERY thin water.  Dead calm water......welcome home. 

First leg....complete!

While not a huge accomplishment, we've been able to haul our sorry asses out of Panama City, to begin our second assault on the equator. 

Sails were returned to us with brand new stitching only 2 days after they had been picked up by Roland (a fellow boatless French cruiser holing up in PC for awhile), for what we felt was a pretty decent price of $250.  It's all about the equipment and of course while I have a sewing machine on board, that didn't mean that my trusty friend Ken would be able to sew through 13 layers of sail material.  A bit of repair to the main, the blown out clew, new halyard loop and some repair to our sail cover on the jib, and we were back in business. 

We patiently (or not) waited for our friend Ean to make it back to Panama from his self (and needed) imposed exile to the US - he seemed to be quite happy regaling us with stories of unlimited water for his showers, great Thai food, clean sheets on his bed, museums and (gasp) culture, and proudly showed off a brand new shirt.  Bastard!  But....he did also agree to return with a suitcase of goodies for us, the most important being a brand new windicator.  Man, this thing is so pretty, and does so many things, that I fear I have been made redundant.  If I fire it up and it starts to make a pizza, I might as well throw my hands up and content myself with reading another book. 

This lifestyle is one of chance meetings.  We meet so many people in the various anchorages and villages we rock up to, but while the time spent together with new friends may be funfilled, we know that everyone has a different schedule and destination as their next port of call.  Over the last few years, we've met some people that are good for drink or two, but others we end up spending weeks and months with, rendezvousing in various bays and countries.  Ben Doolittle, of Knee Deep fame, was one of those men that we've spent considerable time with in El Salvador, and with his family had shared some pretty good memories.  Leo Lestant, while time spent was fleeting, was a memorable French character that we met years ago in Mexico, while he aided and abetted the mighty crew on Aquadesiac (is that the best name for a boat, or what?!) Somehow, not knowing each other, they both ended up being hired to bring Andiamo lll from Bahia del Sol, El Salvador to Panama, through the canal to the Caribbean, and put her to bed in the Shelter Bay Marina. 

We were disappointed to hear ourselves being hailed on the VHF, the day before we had decided to head out of the anchorage and to try to make Ecuador again.  It was Ben and Leo, saying "hey, let's get together for a beer on Friday night"  (we were scheduled to pull up the anchor on Saturday morning).  I say disappointed because I knew how it was all going to turn out.  I anticipated it being ugly, and it was. 

Hauling the More Joy crew with us, Ean and Jane were to be our buffers when we met up with the two guys up at the Balboa Yacht Club for "a few".  We proceeded to camp out there, not having a clue how the 20 jugs of beer kept showing up.  Jane, she was totally innocent.....she quietly plowed her way through her own 20 rum and cokes.  As I said, it was ugly. 

Now I must explain where we were anchored.  In the summertime, the preferred anchorage in Panama City is on the north side of the causeway.  This is due to the increased wind and swell that arrives from the south/southwest direction, sometimes making "the other side - La Playita" and bit (really) rolly.  We had taken refuge in Las Brisas, but the downside is that it has a difficult and dangerous dinghy dock (my use of alliteration would make my English professor proud).  Receding tides make for VERY slippery steps, and if one isn't paying 100% attention, problems could crop up.  Something about all that beer made me a bit less cautious, and I slipped my way from the stairs and into the briny blue.  It certainly wasn't a tragedy, and while I wasn't very happy with all my scrapes and slices from the barnacles, the thought foremost in my brain was the sight of a used condom on the steps the day before. 

Sometimes this life isn't so glamorous....

With a well-deserved hangover, we managed to get to the fuel dock the next morning, and with old beer streaming out of our pores, we made our way through filling up the diesel and water tanks, and headed south to Contadora.  Now, you might be wondering why, with our seeming lack of urgency to move ANYWHERE, why we felt it necessary to get out of town that morning.  Well, Jill on Rock and Roll Star was having a birthday, and we were not going to miss the party that was sure to be had at Isla Contadora.  We made it by dark, in time for round 2.  By the time we got back to our boat around 10pm, I was WRECKED, and hardly able to stand.  Fatigue, alcohol poisoning, too much fun.......it all contributed to a state I might have called "passed out" in my college years.  Apparently, this state of being follows you as you get older. 

And this is how we started our second assault on the equator.....

We've arrived.........BACK IN PANAMA CITY!!!!

You all need to pick your chins off the floor right now.  Ours have already been there; we’ve wiped the drool off and feel human again.  So let me tell you a story…..

Last Monday was an excellent start to the day.  We had finished our provisioning, and were ready to hit the high seas.  We picked up 2, 6 gallon jerry jugs filled with booze (one of Jack Daniels and one of Ron Abuelo) from Jane and Ean from More Joy Everywhere  (long story but we got the benefit of their purchasing and efforts) and dropped off “marina jewelry” (dock wristbands – those of you that know, will know).  We then set the sails for the southwest and with any luck, the sighting of the Ecuadorian coastline in about a week and ½.  Sigh, it was not to be.  

Can we get more wine, please?

Seems we're going to be gone a long time - at least a week

That's not water in there

 The first 24 hours was uneventful, and we made good time riding the south flowing current down the western coast of the Bay of Panama, averaging about 6 knots, and made Punta Mala in decent time.  Let out a little whoop-whoop when we crossed our ill-fated track from 6 months ago, arriving to Panama Bay.  The windicator we had tried to fix the week before was intermittent with information, but we could deal with it, as we had lots of telltales on the sails and shrouds to at least give us wind direction.   

With words of wisdom from Terry on Oh, Baby! we kept tacking through the southwest setting wind and swell, heading either west or south, and while it was slow going, it at least was going.  

So of course something has to happen (this is the short version).  The stitching on our outhaul clew board gives up the ghost, and we are left with a flapping main sail.  Oh, well, we’re a ketch, and we’ve probably sailed 50% of our time without our main, so no tragedy.  Another 24 hours passes, and Ron notices that we’ve got some horizontal wrinkles in our jib.  Mmmmm.   The loop for the halyard had ripped right through.   Gulp.  The mantra begins….we are a ketch, we’ve still got 2 more sails to use, and we’ve got an excellent John Deere engine.  

 

Now by this time, the benign weather had changed.  We were in 35 knots of wind, and 10 foot breaking waves.  These waves were coming at us directly from the dreaded southwest direction, our "go to direction" and as such we even had them coming over the bow AND over the pilothouse.  We’re not sailing in Mexico anymore, Dorothy!!!  

So of course something ELSE has to happen.  The autopilot chooses this moment to say, “nope, not gonna play.”  We were about 50 miles away from our first waypoint of Isla Malpelo, after a hard won 2 and ½ days.  NO AUTOPILOT?!?!  (After not being able to find my boat in a dark anchorage after a night on the town drinking, it is my worst nightmare to not have an autopilot)  After about a minute of discussion, we decided the prudent thing to do would be to head back to Panama City, and get ourselves sorted out.   So now the fun REALLY begins….

30 HOURS OF HANDSTEERING, 10 FOOT FOLLOWING BREAKING WAVES, 20 KNOT WINDS, CRAPPY WEATHER.

Notice the Pigpen like squall surrounding our boat

Yup, it's raining AGAIN

The sailors out there reading this, yes, it was as bad as it sounds.  With our trusty 3^rd crew member declining to participate, it was a 1 hour on, 1 hour off schedule. 

Upon arrival back in the Bay, the seas set down enough to be able to recalibrate our autopilot.  It took, thank god, but we were still committed to heading back. 

All told, our little burn around the Bay of Panama took 5 days, and cost about $500 in diesel.  Yay!!!

Good friends treated our arrival appropriately.  "We’re sorry you’re back, but great to see you."  Last night, Mike on Hartley said, “I hoped to never see you again.”  So funny, but only sailors would see that this was not a slam, but just a part of the life.  Because you see, he took off 2 days after we did, and also returned with the same blown out clew on his mainsail.  Weird!  

Our autopilot is operational again, and a new spare “brain” has been ordered.  A new skookum Garmin windicator/gps/barometer/thingymabob has also been ordered.  The sails are getting picked up today for repairs (I tried yesterday on the machine that our friends Matthew and Jill on Rock and Roll Star have but the thickness was too much – oh, for a Sailrite onboard!)   Ean from More Joy will hand deliver our new gear, plus a new starter motor that Ron had ordered months ago for the generator, when he returns to Panama on the 10^th.  Until then, we eat, drink and attempt to be merry.  

Meanwhile……the lightning continues. 

Life at an angle. Angle, not heel.

We've been pretty wishywashy these last few months.  When you aren't a trustfunder, and the money you use for cruising (after retiring at a fairly early age of 50) is not unlimited, counting pennies is important.  We have prioritized our lives, and one main priority was not working for someone else any longer (more on that later). Beer and wine is a priority, mmmm, not much more than that, but maybe a 6-pack of beer, and a case of wine, too.  Having the boat function well is a priority, but sometimes her looks have suffered.  It's hard on people, and on boats, to be full time cruisers, and instead of our boat looking really good at a dock in a marina due to unlimited fresh water, it is setup to have most systems operational, at the cost of some of the good looks and spiffiness taking a back seat.  We relate to our boat - I remember when I had clothes without holes in them, and when the shirts that were white, WERE actually white.  We cared about being clean, and having our hair washed.  If I'm lucky, my hair now gets combed once every three weeks, whether it needs it or not.  High heels have no place on a boat, but I do have an impressive collection of sandals, all acquired for an average of $3/pair.  Ron gets to have one pair and a spare, but my sandals take up a bit of his shoe room.  This is about all we have patience for.  Makeup - okay, once a month I try to remember how to apply some eyeliner, but it's always futile.  The boat rocking, and poor lighting inside, make my attempts juvenile at best, and embarrassing  at worst.  We'd given up on ourselves, but our mighty ship.......NEVER.

After 3 years, our bottom paint was about 50% black, and 50% blue, blue being the colour the hull was when we bought her, and black the colour we put on in the summer of 2010.  It was time to do the job, but the "where will it get done" seemed to be stumping us.  Upon leaving El Salvador in the fall of 2012, we intended to haul out at the Flamenco Marina in Panama City.  After a few months of being in Panama, and meeting people that had either used their travel lift or had heard stories, we were giving it another think-through.  It was going to cost thousands of dollars, as the haul-out/haul-in charge was $700, there was a per day charge on the stands, you couldn't do the work yourselves, you couldn't stay on the boat....and adding to that, the people reportedly were a bit snotty.  We had also heard of one boat (Eyes of the World) that due to mishandling of the haul-in process, had their prop shaft bent and motor mounts compromised.  We opted out of that option.

A few months ago we met Mark and Sylvia from Rachel 3, and for the first time ever I had a serious case of boat envy.  They had purchased a broken down shell of a boat down in Salinas, Ecuador, a 68' Formosa, that had seen better days.  The refit and subsequent love and care they received from the Stewart Yacht Works there, convinced us to wait until we made land in Ecuador and do the bottom job there.  However....that would mean that we would have to be scheduling ourselves to head further south, as we were hoping to put in, and stay put, for a few months in Bahia Caraquez, while we wandered hither and yon around south America.  Oh, the decisions!!!

We THEN heard about the rails at the Balboa Yacht Club in Panama City.  This is the staging area for all small boats heading north through the canal to the Caribbean.  We had seen the rails on one of our walks along the causeway, but hadn't really seriously considered it, due to the fact that we've got a beast of a boat, some 50,000 pounds when wet (no, that's not a sexual reference, just means that that is how much we weigh when we've got full fuel and water tankage).  But we'd been told by people with larger boats than ours, how good the system was, and how happy they had been with the service and with the price.  $30 out, $30 in, and $107 per day while up.  We could do the work ourselves, or we could hire a few workers at a cost of $60/day/person, our choice.  PLUS, we could stay on the boat, albeit at a slight angle.  But we're sailors, and what's a degree or two (or 20) between friends.  We were sold, and our wallets were heaving sighs of relief.

So that's what we did.  After a wait of 10 days for a spot to open up, we were told to arrive at 11am, high tide.  We were up and out of the water by 11:30, we had the whole boat scrubbed clean and sanded by 2pm, the boot stripe was taped and painted by 3:30, we were cleaned up by 4:30 and in the bar by 5pm.  A slight buzz commenced by 6pm.  A great first day!

Tied and Ready

UP she goes

Yes, it needs attention

Think we need new zincs?

Boot stripe sanded and taped

Starting to look respectable

Bottom scraped, sanded, and ready for bottom paint.  Boot striped painted.

The next day's work didn't start until 10am, due to significant rainfall early on, which enabled me to avail myself of the Yacht Club's washing machines and dryers.  Taping off the boot stripe finished by 10:30 and the first coat of bottom paint was on by 11:30am.  An hour of "curing" and the second coat was on by 1:30pm.  Last coat along the waterline 1/2 hour later, and the 5 gallons of paint we had purchased was out of the can and on our hull.

Now that's more like it

Too bad it never lasts....

Is that a smile?  Nah, that's definitely a grimace

Ready to splash, but.....

We figured we wait for the tide to turn, first

Evening after our last day of work

While we were out, 4 new zincs were installed, and Ron serviced the propeller.

New zincs EVERYWHERE

A brief scrub along the waterline to remove staining from the growth over the last few months, (with an amazing product called Easy On, Easy Off) and an hour later at 4pm we were headed to the showers, and then afterwards to the restaurant/bar at the Yacht Club with our friend Jane from More Joy Everywhere.  (Jane and her other half Ean are selling their catamaran.  If all my "interesting" posts over the last months have inspired you to take on this lifestyle, take a peek at their website www.morejoyeverywhere.blogspot.com) 

We're back in the water now.  If you are needing to redo your antifouling, don't hesitate to consider using the railway system.  It sure worked for us, and the cost savings were tremendous!!!

The last two days have been a whirlwind of provisioning, getting ready for our trip to Ecuador.  And now I need a glass of wine.