September 1-10, 2003 -- Wonderful Aruba On September 1, we raised anchor at Boca Santa Cruz, and bid farewell to a beautiful anchorage and headed for Aruba. It was another fun trip, though with higher winds and seas than the trip to Curacao. We docked at the Customs Dock in Aruba at 2:00 PM, and after much walking and talking with people, found the Customs office and cleared customs. They called Immigration for us, and they promptly came out to check us in. The only problem with Aruba is that Customs and Immigration insist that you come to the Customs dock to clear in and out. It isn't as cruiser friendly as other countries in the Caribbean. Anyway, from there, we headed to the marina. It turned out that the side tie dock that we were supposed to tie to was unavailable because the current boat occupying it had engine problems and was unable to leave. It was med-moor or go to the anchorage. In order to med-moor, you have to drop your anchor, and then back between two other boats with no finger pier or pilings to keep you from hitting their boats, and the marina charges you for the length of your boat instead of the beam of your boat! Thank God we had the Precocious Gales with us! The wind was blowing 30 knots on our starboard quarter. Mike manned the anchor, and Ray, Gail and Ashley manned fenders and lines, while I backed us in to the "slip." We did this successfully without damaging our boat or (as I later found out) the brand new catamaran that the wind was trying to blow us into. Unfortunately, the bottom in the marina is a very soupy mud and the anchor had problems digging in, so the manager of the marina grabbed his dinghy and we dragged our anchor out as far as his dinghy would carry our 140 pound anchor and ½ inch chain and then dropped it. We let it settle in to the mud and then drew the chain up to keep us off the dock. We cleaned ourselves up, and then set out to explore Oranjstead a little bit. Actually, we were in search of dinner. We wound up at Carlos and Charlies, which has great atmosphere but really bad Mexican food. But, we were in great company and the wait staff was very entertaining. We had two days before Gail's parents were due in, so we spent that time with Ray, Gail and Ashley showing us around since they have been in Aruba before. After being in Bonaire where you have to time your trips to the grocery store to coincide with the supply boat coming in, and then never quite sure what you would find available there, it was great walking into these huge grocery stores that had everything! So, just about every day, we would go to one of the large grocery stores to see what was available and to purchase provisions that we haven't seen since leaving the United States. While we could get most stuff in Margarita, it just wasn't to the same level as Aruba. Thus are the days of a cruiser's life, a highlight is a really well stocked grocery store! We spent 10 days in Aruba exploring the grocery stores and other facets of life in Aruba (Baskin Robins, Dunkin Donuts, and a McDonalds that serves breakfast). We found it to be a very comfortable place, and we felt very welcome there. We decided on our third day there that this was certainly a place that we would come back to. We enjoyed meeting and getting to know Dory and Del, Gail's parents, and wandering around with the entire gang through the different shopping districts. Finally, September 10, we left the marina and went to the customs dock to clear out. Ray and Gail helped us move the boat there, and then left to catch a plane back to Bonaire. Ashley would ride back with us. Now that I knew where to go, Customs was a much quicker experience. Unfortunately, immigration took several hours to get to us this time, but that wasn't bad. So, after clearing customs and immigration we moved the boat to the airport anchorage to wait for a weather window to head east.

On the morning of September 11, we woke up early in case the projected weather window developed. Surprisingly, the weather window showed up. So, we raised anchor and headed toward Curacao. Everyone that we talked to gave us the same advice, "When you leave Aruba headed east, you want to get as far south as you can to avoid the strong current and the seas that build around the southern tip of Aruba." Of course since we really didn't believe that we had a window, we opted to stay closer to Aruba, rather than head on a more southerly course. Fortunately, this time it didn't make much difference, since the winds were light enough, and our engines are powerful enough to deal with the current. The trip wasn't a great one, but it wasn't bad either. It was certainly better than our trip going to the Aves! We were about 2/3 the way to Curacao when we were buzzed by a Netherlands Antilles Coast Gaurd helicopter. Next, they hovered about 50 feet off our starboard side and hailed us on the radio. I went inside so that we could talk, since there was no way to communicate over the wind and rotor noise of his helicopter. He wanted to know where we were coming from and where we were going. We told him our plan, which was to head to Boca Santa Cruz, overnight there, and then head to Spanish Waters. From there, we would be going on to Bonaire. Shortly after the helicopter left, Mike noticed that the oil pressure on the starboard engine was running low. We shut the engine down and since I was already feeling slightly sea sick, it was my job to handle checking the oil. Our policy, since we both are prone to sea sickness, is that who ever has done something to start the process, they are the one to continue so that we always have one person who is fully functional to handle the boat. So, I went in. There was no oil on the dipstick! We had checked it before we left so I reported the finding back to Mike. Then, I started the arduous process of filling the engine with oil again. I found that I could do a full gallon, then make it outside for a few minutes before, again, going in to add more oil. With three gallons of oil left on the boat, the oil was at the minimum line, and I couldn't go back in. So Mike went in and added one more gallon. By the time we were done, we were relatively close to the anchorage at Boca Santa Cruz, so we brought the starboard engine online and motored in keeping an eye on the Oil pressure and anchored, which in itself was an interesting thing because during the trip, both anchor chains had managed to tie themselves in knots. We managed to get one undone sufficiently to get the anchor down. Ashley snorkeled on the anchor and we were able to relax. On September 12, we checked out the starboard engine. Once again, there was no oil on the dipstick. We could not see any visible signs of oil leakage. We pulled out the manuals and reviewed them. We determined that the problem either had to be with the oil cooler or a line on the bottom of the engine. Either way, we couldn't tell without adding more oil. As I pulled out our remaining 2 gallons of oil, we began discussing the possibility of having to walk to town (mind you, we had no idea where a town was) to purchase additional oil. After adding the two gallons, and scavenging another quart from empty jugs, we still had nothing on the dip stick. The entire oil pan holds 8 gallons! Out came spot. We inflated him, and put his motor on and Ashley took me to shore. The water taxi guy lives there. He said that town was a very long walk, but if I couldn't make it he would drive me in to town, after he got some more sleep as he had been lobstering until 4:00am. Off I went with my backpack. It occurred to me as I reached the main road that I had no idea where the nearest town was. We had seen one from the water off to the left, so I foolishly assumed that was the correct direction. Ha! After about 100 yards, I remembered that we had a map of Curacao from Carol and Ashley on Blind Date, so I called Mike on the radio. As we were having our discussion, I noticed that a police car pulled into the entrance of Santa Cruz Beach. Mike let me know that the nearest town was actually to the right, and the police car pulled out of Santa Cruz Beach and pulled over by me. Being ever so polite, I told Mike to stand by and explained to them that I was from the boat anchored in Santa Cruz, we had an engine problem on the way to Spanish Waters from Aruba, and in order to move the boat there I would need to purchase oil. They told me to get in and they would help. I told Mike on the radio that I had a ride and I would see him later. On the ride, they wanted to see my papers. Of course, I left everything except the copy of my passport and, thanks to driving in Aruba, my driver's license. I showed them what I had. They informed me that we would need to stop by the police station to verify my papers! Boy was I glad I didn't say we had checked in, since I was an illegal immigrant. We went to the police station, and after answering the same questions again, I was asked why we had not called the Ports Authority to inform them of our problem. I calmly replied (4 different times), that I was unaware that the Ports Authority maintained a radio watch. They took a look through the bag, and either they think that I am an amazingly prepared boy scout, or totally nuts. Between the WD40, bug spray, bandaids, rolaids (cleverly disguised as a bottle of Zantac), decongestants, aspirin, toilet paper, compass, monocular, Talcum Powder, leatherman tool, small adjustable wrench, crushed red peppers (again cleverly disguised a film cannister -- they never have them in the pizza shops in Venezuela) and other assorted odds and ends, I wasn't sure what he thought. Anyway, while I continued talking with an officer, one of the officers that brought me in was calling immigration. The bottom line was that someone from Immigration would come to the police station, pick me up and we would go back to the boat to become un-illegal aliens. I thought, "Woo-Hoo! I wonder if I can talk the immigration guy into stopping for oil." I sat outside and waited while the officers that brought me in went out looking for other doers of injustice. Of course, I still haven't quite figured out how they knew I was an illegal! About 10 minutes later, the officer that I had been talking with called me back into the office and said that someone from the Sera Fundy Marina (A "Cruiser" marina in Spanish Waters) wanted to talk to me. Confused, I took the phone. I didn't know anyone there, and how they knew I was in the police station was beyond me! The man on the other end of the line asked me the following questions. My answers follow the dashes: 1. Are you under arrest? -- Um, no, I don't think so. Let me ask. So, I asked the officer and he said, "Um, no I don't think so." So, I confirmed my earlier uncertain assertion that I was indeed unincarcerated. 2. What do you need? -- I need to buy oil so I can get my engine running and get down to Spanish Waters. He then said, "Well, you know that you can wait until this time next year, and immigration will never come out to see you. Tell the officer that all you need to do is get the oil, and then you will come immediately to Spanish Waters so you can check in." Hmmm. That sounded very much like what I had been saying since I was picked up by the cops, now almost 2 hours ago! I said, "Do you mind terribly explaining this to him?" After a small laugh he said sure, so I handed the phone to the officer. After a few minutes, the officer hung up the phone, called immigration, and then told me that he would bring the officers back that brought me in, take me to a store to purchase the oil that I needed, return me to my boat, and after checking our passports let me go. And that is exactly what we did. One of the officers helped me carry the oil, pack the purchases, carry them to the car and then carry them to the dinghy as well! The ride back was filled with all kinds of questions about what I thought of the Eastern Caribbean to what I thought of Aruba, Bonaire and Curacao, to how I liked living on a boat. It was an interesting trip. When we got close to the boat, I radioed Mike and told him to meet me at the dock with passports and to have Ashley get the boat ready to go. We loaded the oil on the boat, and while Mike continued getting things ready I started adding oil to the starboard engine. After another 1 1/2 gallons, oil was finally starting to show on the dipstick just when the oil fill pump quit! I wound up putting the last gallon of oil in through the dipstick hole! Finally we decided not to put Spot on deck, but to tow him (We left the motor on). I went forward to raise the anchor while Mike manned the helm. I got the anchor raised, and just as we were starting out, Spot had turned around backwards and was slowly being flipped over by the forward motion of the boat! Spot went over, and I grabbed a boat pole and hooked one of Spots tow rings and managed to stand him on his side and then Mike managed to flip him the rest of the way over. We then pulled his motor off and were able to tow him comfortably. And we were off for Spanish waters with one engine. And one engine we could start if we had to. The trip was actually relatively comfortable and pleasant. Except for the Venezuelans on the radio and the tanker that was on a slowly converging course with us. Fortunately, they were waiting for a pilot boat and we passed them 1 1/2 miles off near Williamstead. So, we pulled in to Spanish Waters, and went up the unbouyed entrance channel. Fortunately, at the one point we almost made a mistake, a security dinghy got our attention and motioned us to turn to port. Finally, we dropped anchor next to Amphrotrite. As I was looking in the Sera Fundy information that Ashley from Blind Date gave us, I noticed that Immigration closes at 3:30pm! We rushed here for nothing! We put the tender in the water, chatted with Australia 31 by radio, Amphrotrite by yelling (and later in a normal voice when Frank came by), and finally with Nautibear on our way to the marina. As it turns out, we did know lots of people in the anchorage, but no one knew that I had visited the police station that morning. We still don't know what is wrong with the starboard engine, since we rushed here for nothing, except getting here before dark. The engine room needs to cool, again, before we crawl over the motors. We still need to check in, so we are still illegal immigrants. And now, we need to clean Spot's motor, we have WD40'ed the engine, and fortunately the cylinders don't have water in them. So, hopefully it won't be to much work.

On September 13, we went in to Williamstead with Frank and Paulette from Amphritrite. They were checking out, and we were checking in, so it worked out well. Thankfully, they were going otherwise, we wouldn't have found our way. Customs was relatively easy to find. However, Immigration was located on the other side of downtown, across the inlet and down the waterway almost a half mile. Williamstead is divided in to 2 halves. The side with Immigration is Otra Banda, literally, the other side, and the side with all the tourist shops and Customs is Punda. We returned to Punda and wandered around the tourist area, finding the McDonalds and the Baskin Robbins, conveniently located next to each other. We caught the bus back to Spanish Waters, and spent the rest of the day quietly. On September 14, the engine room was cool enough for us to try to find the problem. After thoroughly searching for the problem and not finding it, we called in the professionals (actually we wanted a skinny guy, we told them to send a skinny guy, they sent us someone as big as Mike). On their second trip out, mind you it took 3 days for the second visit, they found the problem. Part of our oil pan had corroded through. The pan would either have to be epoxied or removed and repaired. They said they would have an estimate in a day or two. After two days, we tried to call, for two days. Finally, I talked to the service manager who was concerned about just patching the oil pan. We told him that if they thought that they could remove the oil pan, we would prefer to repair the pan. So, after another visit, that took another two days to happen, we got our estimate on September 22. They started working, almost immediately. Though, on their second day out, they never returned to work in the afternoon. When we called to find out what was going on, they informed us that the diesel truck they were using had broken down! I tell you, what a way to instill confidence! The rest of the month was taken up with them working on the engine, and us watching, and helping, or working on other parts of the boat. During this time, while our focus was primarily on the engine, we did have time to get together with friends from Nautibear, Austrailia 31, It's Good, and Carina Rose on different occasions. You may be wondering why it is that we had to get someone out to do this relatively simple repair. It involves engines and boats. The engine in a boat is located, essentially, in the lowest part of the boat. So, you have to raise the engine up in order to get the oil pan off. You have to unmount the engine from its mounts, and then lift it up. Only then can you remove it. For our particular engine, this poses quite a few difficulties, the least of which is that neither Mike nor I fit on the outboard side of the engine! Our oil pan is 8 inches deep. The engine sits beside a major structural support that is 9 inches tall. The ceiling of the engine room is 4 inches above the engine. The floor could flex, probably another 2 inches, maximum. Finally, the engine weighs 2000 lbs. So, to lift our engine, we needed a skinny guy and some serious lifting equipment, which meant we needed external help. You also need to remove the shaft from the transmission, again not a big deal, but it helps to have extra help.