Speedwell of Hong Kong

Boat Building

Thursday, December 6th, 2012

Essequibo River, Guyana

Monday, 3 December 2012

Raincatcher MkX

It rained heavily yesterday so all my water tanks, buckets and bottles are full. Crystal clear water for drinking and hair-washing. I have greatly improved my rain catching system over the years and get a kick from gazing fondly at the rain trickling, or as it does here in Guyana, gushing and gurgling down off my awning and filling up 5 litre bottles as fast as I can replace them. What luxury. The dry season (afternoon thunder showers only about three days a week) is over and the December rains have arrived. An umbrella becomes your most important accessory, cooler than a raincoat in the tropical heat.

I took Sinbad for his walk on the island early this morning and hung about patiently with him while he made a slow and thorough inspection of every leaf and blade of grass. He roams freely these days and shows no inclination to stalk the birds. After a while I left him testing his tree-climbing skills, to row back to Speedwell for some insect repellent. When I returned a little while later he was waiting for me on the beach and casually, not in any hurry, you understand, hopped into the dinghy as I nudged up to the sand.

Now we are back on board, he is relaxing after his workout and I am just sitting in the cockpit with the warm breeze gently caressing me. I can’t help thinking of Doris Lessing’s wonderful words – All sanity depends on this: that it should be a delight to feel heat strike the skin, a delight to stand upright knowing the bones are moving easily under the flesh.

And so, to the boat building..

Work in progress

A few weeks ago David on Eileen of Avoca, his gaff rigged Yarmouth 23, was heading back to French Guiana from Trinidad and wondered if I needed anything from the ship chandlers. My list was too long to make it practicable but I remembered that Bernhard needed some Gorilla glue for the new dinghy he is making. David was happy to oblige and a few weeks later he came motoring up the river with a litre of the precious stuff. Bernhard was able to continue working on his new dinghy. The wood had already been cut and all that was needed was the glue.

The waterside boatshed

Construction is taking place in a temporary boat shed put up close to the river for easy launching when the project is completed.
The boat needs to be sturdy as it will be used for regular shopping trips to Bartika, about 5 miles downriver. Boat traffic at the Bartika waterfront is heavy and the boat must be able to withstand the occasional hard knock. The wood that Bernhard is using is Silvabally. A locally grown wood which is, according to Martin Montgomery in his book, History of the British Colonies, published in 1835:
…beyond all woods, incomparable for planking ship’s bottoms, being almost impervious to the worm, light, and easily worked.

Bifrenaria aurantiaca

Orchids cling to the surrounding trees, and I couldnt resist this picture of Speedwell anchored a short way off.

Speedwell anchored close by.

Tags: boat building, Silvabally
Posted in Cruising, Guyana | 4 Comments »

Back to the basic junk sail

Sunday, November 25th, 2012

A few years ago, while I was sailing in the Rio de la Plata delta, it became obvious that some serious sail maintenance was due. My old PVC sail had lasted well for 6 years but the gusty winds and Pamperos that happen quite frequently in that area had taken their toll.

Sailmaking in San Isidro

Luckily for me, I was able to borrow a Sailrite sewing machine from Pete Hill who was also in Buenos Aires at the time and I found a relatively clean and shady patch of concrete on the dock at Puerto Piratas in San Isidro, where I was able to lay out and sew a new sail. The friendly local stray dogs were keen to see what I was up to but their muddy pawprints were easy enough to clean off later.

At that time there had been a lot of discussion on the Junk Rig Association web site about the wonderfully improved performance to windward that could be achieved by adding some shape to the individual panels of the junk sail. Each panel billowing out and providing some much needed aerodynamic power. It looked and sounded impressive and I was keen to give it a try.

I decided to provide the extra volume for the somewhat euphemistically named ‘cambered’ or, to my eye more accurately, ‘baggy’ panels, by inserting a lens-shaped piece of fabric along each batten position. This time round I chose to use acrylic cloth rather than PVC which made the sewing much easier. A couple of fittings and adjustments were necessary before I eventually achieved a usable sail. I have to confess to being a trifle disappointed by the new creased and baggy appearance. But there was a noticeable improvement in windward performance so I reluctantly chose to let it be and spent a couple of years sailing up the coasts of Uruguay, Brazil and the Guianas.  Always a little embarrassed to display the sloppily baggy sail when raising it in a busy anchorage filled with sleek yachts and also having to put up with the effects of the increased strain on the rig. Lashings which had never given a moment’s trouble before were constantly chafing through. I was forever trying to improve the appearance of the sail by adding a parrel here, a tack line there…

It looked alright from a distance

I had come to the point of deciding that when I reached Trinidad I would remove the extra fabric and go back to my beautiful flat sail and suffer the slightly less spritely performance.

Then one fine day while anchored peacefully off Baganara island, the yacht ‘Do It’ arrived with Ruth and Angus on their way back to the UK after an extended circumnavigation. They had a Sailrite machine and were willing to lend it to me!  Bernhard and Sharmilla were happy to let me use some of their floorspace and so I set to work getting the sail down and ripping out what seemed like a few hundred meters of stitching.  The machine performed brilliantly and it only took three days of actual sewing to get it all back together again minus the bagginess. Sharmilla and Bernhard made me take a break for a delicious lunch with them each day and I was tempted to slow down a bit and spend a few more days enjoying the amenities but the Do Its were scheduled to leave in a day or two so I dutifully maintained the pace and within a week of taking the sail off I had it back up and looking the way I wanted. A sail to be proud of again.

Back to the old shape

It may seem like a regressive step to those who enjoy coaxing the best possible performance from their sails but when I find myself hundreds of miles offshore, alone and in uncertain weather, I prefer to forgo an extra knot or two for the peace of mind that the simpler and more durable flat sail provides.

The calm waters of the Essequibo make the anchorage an ideal place for doing maintenance and I’m hoping to tick off a few more jobs on my long to-do list before heading for Trinidad and putting the newly smoothed out sail to the test.

Tags: Sailrite, San Isidro
Posted in Cruising, Guyana, Junk Rig | 1 Comment »

A visit to Georgetown

Sunday, October 28th, 2012

Loading bananas in Parika

Once again I was on the lookout for a new camera. The one I bought in Cachoeira had developed some annoying habits. Hoping to find a better selection in Georgetown than in Bartika I set off early to catch the 7am fast boat to Parika, a small town near the mouth of the Essequibo, close to where I had anchored when I first arrived.

A steady stream of people were already boarding a waiting boat. Before getting on I had to give my full name to be solemnly written down in a big book. I wondered if this was a way of identifying the missing persons if the boat didn’t make it.

Taxi boats

Following the same practice as the busses in Suriname, we waited until not one more passenger could be shoehorned in. The driver making people squash up closer to make room for a few more. It was starting to warm up and I was glad to be sitting next to the open side of the boat.

At last the two massive outboards  were fired up and we roared off down river. Rather different to my slow and careful voyage up. The jungle flashed past on either side – ‘Ahh yes, that was the patch were I nearly got stuck’. We stopped once or twice at rickety jetties to drop off some and pick up others. The river is the only transport system between these small settlements. About 5 minutes before the final approach to Parika, bright orange life-jackets were handed around and everyone dutifully squirmed into them to keep the coast guard people happy.

Stabroek Market - Georgetown

An hour after leaving Bartika we nudged up to the wooden steps leading to the busy dock at Parika. Now I understood the functionality of the strange upturned bows that all the boats have. They make a very handy built-in gangplank for getting on and off the boats when they stop bow-to the wooden steps of all the local docks.

It was a riotously colourful scene with scores of small boats loading up with bananas, pineapples, pumpkins, sacks of rooty things and sugar cane. I made my way through the stelling to where the mini-busses were lined up and found one heading for Vreed en Hoop, the next stop on my journey. The bus was empty when I got on and pulled away almost immediately.  My heart lifted, thinking it was going to be a cool and peaceful ride, only to sink a few moments later when we pulled across the road to take on a maximum capacity load of exuberant school kids.

The bus was noisy. The shrieks of the kids was supplemented by some ear-shattering music on the bus’s sound system. I watched with fascinated amazement when one of the mini speakers, which were making this maxi sound, came adrift after we had bounced over some obstacle in the road. It dangled by its wire hovering a few millimeters away from the ear of a stylishly dressed young woman. She was quite unperturbed and made no move to avoid it. Was she already deaf or on the way to being? Maybe she was enjoying the sound. I can’t bring myself to call it music.

I switched off my hearing aids and turned my attention to the passing scenery. We were driving along the coastal road which runs near to the sea wall. The land is below sea level at high tide and the clever Dutch, when they were in control of the country, built a wonderful system of drainage canals and dykes to protect the flat coastal plains.

Shoppers Paradise

We passed through colourful small villages along the way all seeming to have a strong Indian character with imaginatively decorated Hindu temples, prayer flags and cows. Incongruously interspersed with the occasional small business advertising cyber services.

After an hour we rolled up and found a space in a long row of mini busses near the ferry dock. Another walk through a wooden ‘stelling’ and down rough wooden steps to board a waiting boat for the last leg of the trip. Just a short crossing of the Demerara River but nevertheless warranting one’s name being carefully recorded in a big ledger and the obedient donning of a lifejacket.

It would definitely not be a good idea to try to come up the Demerara to Georgetown by yacht. There is no where to anchor safely or leave your dinghy when you go ashore. I felt that the boat and bus fare to get here had been money well spent.

The pretty part of town

So, on to the market. The ferry stops right near the entrance to Stabroek Market which is a bewildering maze of colourful indoor stalls selling a wonderful variety of things. The intoxicating aroma of Indian spices, glittering saris and jewelled slippers, pirated DVD movies and computer games, bananas and edible green leaves. Cures for all ills. I wandered around in the warm semi-darkness and could have spent all day there but I needed to find a camera and be back in Parika by 4pm when the last boat leaves for Bartika. So I ventured out into the sunlit street.

Streets are wide with drainage canals and trees down the centre. Pretty footbridges here and there. But it’s nevertheless a frenetic scene. Street vendors take up most of the space on the narrow pavements and I found it tricky to get my bearings as once you are in the side streets there are no obvious landmarks to help with direction finding. I had my Android tablet with GPS, Google Maps and compass in my bag but was loath to use it openly as I had been warned of the high level of street crime so I had to navigate by the seat of my pants and found myself inadvertently passing the same place depressingly often.

By sheer chance I found myself looking at a crammed window display of electronic gadgetry and thought it might be a likely place to find a digital camera. They turned out to have a really good selection and I was able to get just what I was looking for in the right price range. It even seems that they may be able to fix the problem with the Lumix. I left it with them after the whole family had been given a look at my pictures of Speedwell sailing with her beautiful yellow junk sail. When I left they warned me to be careful and hang on to my bag in the street.

After a quick snack for lunch I decided to head back to Bartika and leave the sightseeing for the next visit when I go back for the hopefully repaired camera.

Tags: Demerara River, Georgetown, Parika
Posted in Cruising, Guyana | No Comments »

Bartica

Saturday, October 20th, 2012

Bokkom snugly tied to the Kool Breeze pontoon

I have made Bartica my base in Guyana as it is the most convenient place for stocking up and there are no villages with shops further up the Essequibo river. It is also a base for the miners who operate in the interior, panning the river for alluvial gold and diamonds.  No one has ever found Eldorado, the city of gold promised by Sir Walter Raleigh after his reconnaissance of the area, but tons of gold are slowly being recovered in a less spectacular fashion.  The main street has many shops buying and selling gold and every hardware shop and general dealer sells delicate scales to weigh the gold dust. It’s a tempting thought to try my hand at a little panning for the precious stuff but of course it’s not that simple. A licence is needed and a section of the river has to be officially allocated. But what a thrilling thought, that there is actually gold in them thar hills! Most of the gold is recovered in the form of fine dust after a patient process of refinement, the heavier gold always settling out from the other sediment.  Some intrepid types dive for it at the base of waterfalls using hookah gear as bigger nuggets collect in the gravel below the falls. The only snag is that visibility underwater is zero so it all has to be done by feel. The divers have to hand over their haul to the owner of the claim who pays them a small fraction of the market value. Not surprisingly some nuggets get concealed in nooks and crannies for later more profitable recovery.

One of the many mine-supply trucks

There are also bauxite mines way up river and the ore is carried down to the coast on massive barges.
One needs to anchor far enough off to allow them to use the channel that runs along the shoreline which means that I get plenty of exercise rowing ashore, trying to avoid being swamped by the fast water taxis and pitting my wits against the tide. My small rowing dinghy is the only one there and has become a source of free local entertainment. I have grown used to being greeted by people miming my rowing action as I walk along 1st Avenue, the main street.  There is a convenient small floating dock attached to the ‘Kool Breeze’ waterside restaurant which is a safe place to leave the dinghy. The restaurant itself is derelict and has closed down awaiting renovation but its extensive wooden deck overlooking the water is a popular place to hang out while waiting for a water taxi or in my case, the right tide for rowing back to Speedwell.

The busy ferry dock

The main street is chaotically busy. Pedestrians crowd the road as there are no pavements and cars and lorries take up all the space along the edges, forcing one into the traffic. Many of the vehicles are massive, mud-spattered Bedford trucks with dire lettering warning of the highly flammable nature of their cargo. Presumably taking supplies up country to the mines.

Shopping in most of the stores is like going back half a century in time. Goods are stacked on shelves behind a long counter and you have to ask for the stuff you need.  Most basic things are available, but strangely, it’s impossible to buy butter. Wine is also not an option, so one settles for the excellent and very cheap rum and of course beer.

All the taxi boats have these strange upturned bows

The currency takes a bit of getting used to. The exchange rate is about 200 to the US$, so the numbers are big and the highest denomination note that the ATM spits out is 1000 (ie. 5 US). I haven’t yet discovered a shop in Bartika that accepts credit cards so fat wads of notes have to be carried around. Apart from the rum, things are pricey.

One small problem that I’ve had is finding methylated spirits or alcohol as its called in Brazil for pre-heating my Primus stove. I stupidly had forgotten to buy a good supply before leaving Natal. I was able to track down a small (250ml) bottle of seriously dark purple coloured liquid with a hand drawn skull and crossbones on the label describing it as ‘mentholated’ spirits but when I tried to use it to light my stove it proved to have been heavily diluted with water and only very reluctantly produced a sullen little flame, totally inadequate for the job. I’m hoping to find something better in Georgetown next week.

Tags: cruising
Posted in Cruising, Guyana | 5 Comments »

Baganara Island

Friday, October 5th, 2012

Baganara Island

The day had been uncomfortably hot making it too easy just to flake out sweatily naked on my bunk with the fans stirring the torpid air. Normally there is a cooling thundershower in the afternoon but today the heat was unrelenting. When it became too much for me I would climb over the side of the boat and cool off in the river. The current runs so strongly that I need to keep a good hold on the rope ladder so as not to be swept away downstream.  Earlier on, at daybreak, when it was still cool enough, I had rowed ashore with Sinbad and we spent about an hour on the small beach at one end of the island. The place is a bird sanctuary so I thought it wise to keep the cat on his leash. He was content enough to drag me around and scrabbled in the sand, clawed his way a short way up a few trees and then settled down in a grassy patch to enjoy the surroundings. I sat happily next to him watching the birds through my binoculars which, for once, I had remembered to bring along.
Four or five lapwings were pottering about at the far end of the small beach. They slowly approached us not seeming to be too concerned by our alien presence.

Baganara is a luxury ‘eco-tourism’ resort on an exquisite small island with sandy beaches and lots of birds. There is an airstrip allowing guests to be flown in. I was shown a very friendly welcome and encouraged to explore their nature trail. No charge for anchoring a short way off.

Motoring up the Essequibo River

I had motored up from Bartica with a rising tide, paying close attention to the waypoints I’d been given, with one eye always on the fishfinder.  Even so, at one point I bounced off something solid. The riverbed is very irregular with undulating sandbars and occasional rocks. All impossible to see beneath the chocolatey water.

Monday, 1 October 2012

When the sun set this evening it left the river in total darkness.  Earlier a small plane had taken off from the island which must have been carrying all the resort people back to Georgetown, as now it was completely blacked out. Obviously the last to leave had switched off the lights. I felt very alone on the river, surrounded by the jungle. I put some music on and cracked another Carib.  And then the nearly full moon rose from behind the rainforest casting a friendly light on the water. How wonderful to be just where I was.

Following Bernhard in his rainforest

Yesterday I had visited Bernhard and Sharmilla who have carved out an idyllic living space in the rainforest a bit further up the Essequibo river. Their yacht resting at the end of their own wooden jetty after having carried them around the world.  All the work of clearing a space for their house and vegetable garden has been done by themselves. One really needs to experience the festeringly humid heat and denseness of the forest to appreciate the effort that they must have put into it. Now the garden provides more than enough for their needs. Bernhard took me for a long walk to the limits of their 44 acre property, most of it still in its natural state. He has hacked a network of pathways through the profusion of trees, vines, ferns, palms, flowering shrubs and creepers but needs to walk them constantly to keep them cleared.

Creepy lianas

Trees often fall across the path, their shallow roots undermined by the underground nests of leaf-cutter ants. He walked ahead of me slashing away at intrusive creepers and thorny palms with his cutlass . Occasionally hacking away at bigger branches blocking the way. I was keeping a wary eye out for the snakes which I had been told were plentiful. Thankfully, the only living creatures that I saw were exquisite blue morpho butterflies and busy ants. Bernhard showed me his collection of orchids scattered about on trees in the garden, mostly gathered from the tops of fallen trees which he has had to clear from his paths.

Later, sitting on the wooden verandah that encircles their house, enjoying a taste of the local 5 year old rum and nibbling crispy banana and breadfruit chips as the sun sank lower over the water and frogs and cicadas set up a deafening evening racket, they told me stories about their animal visitors. Most scarily about snakes that came into the house despite it being on stilts, giant otters and capybaras, a black spider-monkey that had to be rescued from their dogs; ant-eaters, caimans, iguanas and gekkos. Insects, of course, are a constant presence.  Maybe not everyone’s idea of paradise.

Tags: Baganara, cruising, Guyana, Rainforest
Posted in Cruising, Guyana | 1 Comment »

On to Guyana

Thursday, September 27th, 2012

Thursday, 20 September 2012

To my relief the anchor came up cleanly. I had been a little worried as all the to-ing and fro-ing with the tide can make a horrible tangle of the chain. It had taken Pat and Lou on ‘Aragon’ nearly a day and a boatload of helpers to get free of an enormously heavy wooden beam that had become caught up in their chain.The muddy water makes it impossible to see anything and a mysterious aquatic world lurks quietly below.

By the time the ebb had started we were ready to go and enjoyed a fast sail down river. Not quite fast enough unfortunately and for the last few hours getting out over the shoals we were reduced to a doggedly slow but steady 2 knots. Just pleased to be able to stay in deep enough water without having to tack.

Checking out the hammock

By now Sinbad knows the routine and was happy to test out his hammock while I negotiated the bumpy water at the entrance to the river. At last the depth increased and the waves took on a more regular pattern. I turned up the coast with the full sail raised and the wind comfortably ‘abaft the beam’. The crescent moon set quite early leaving a wonderful starry night.

Saturday, 22 September 2012

Guyana landfall

After a relaxed and easy sail all of Friday, I arrived off the entrance to the great Essequibo River at dawn. The sky was grey and the water a pale milky chocolate. No sign of land other than clumps of tall sticks planted in the water for holding fishing nets. From a distance it looked like a continuous fence across the river but closer up there was plenty of room to sail between them. The water was a shallow 3 – 4 meters and I was blindly following GPS waypoints to get in. Wind and tide were helping me along so no need for the noisy hot engine. Gazing contentedly at the sail I was a little concerned to notice that one of the lazy jacks wasn’t properly tied off at the cleat on the boom. I really ought to stop and haul the sail in to re-fasten it. But we were going so nicely with the full sail all the way out, practically dead downwind with the Navik coping superbly.  I was loath to upset the status quo and convinced myself that we were only in a river after all and the wind was light. Just then a fierce rain squall struck. The sail gybed wrapping the sheet round the tiller and a protruding bit on the pushpit and the flagstaff. The sudden shock broke a probably already chafed lashing holding the second from the bottom batten to the sail leaving a confused mess of sail, battens and ropes with the wind now gusting ferociously and rain starting to lash us. As they say, ‘the show ain’t over till the fat lady sings’. Before doing anything else I had to quickly remove my expensive new hearing aids which are supposed to be water-resistant but I couldn’t afford to take a chance with them. Cheaper to replace the sail. That done, I was able to come up into the wind and untangle the sheet and release the halyard to drop a few panels. Of course they fell all the way down to the deck without the lazy jacks to retain them. There didn’t appear to be any actual damage. I rescued the escaped lazy jack and managed to lift the sail bundle to secure it again but the strong wind and now rough water made it very difficult to sort out properly. Only a couple of miles to go to reach sheltered waters so I fired up the engine and motored on through the deluge.

The rain didn’t last long and soon we were in calm water with visible land on either side. I stopped the engine and there was still enough usable sail area to keep us moving at 3 knots. It was a gloomy grey day and I hadn’t had more than the odd 20 minutes of sleep now and then since leaving Domburg three days ago. I was looking forward to stopping at Roed en Rust, the first sheltered spot to anchor. We were moving more slowly now as the tide was turning and I was forced to motor the last 5 miles to get in before dark. No lights at all to help one.  At last I identified the right place and went forward to get the anchor ready. The sun had just set and darkness descends rapidly. Just then a boatload of big men with coastguard life-jackets roared up and came alongside. I quickly slipped my tiny fenders between their rough wooden bulwarks and my pretty boat. It was Saturday evening and it looked as though they were heading home but had come over to investigate this strange foreign craft. I produced my passport and answered their questions about safety gear, etc. Sinbad did his usual successful PR job by jumping into their boat. They agreed that it was fine for me to spend the night where I was before moving on to Bartica in the morning to clear customs and immigration. They left cheerfully warning me to put out a good anchor light.  A quick bite to eat and I crashed into blissful oblivion.

Sunday, 23 September, 2012

Early morning at Roed en Rust

I woke up early keen to make the most of the flooding tide to help us to reach Bartica, a further 30nm up river. The timing was convenient and I raised the anchor at slack water and started motoring along. I hauled the sail up hopefully in case the wind strengthened  later. It was an exquisite morning, so different to yesterday.  Now we were moving along next to luscious equatorial rainforest.  A flock of snowy white egrets flew past in brilliant contrast to the intense greens of the jungle. Mostly blue sky with just enough small white clouds to keep things bearably cool. There were a few shallow patches to be avoided but the water was calm and generally deep enough although still too muddy to be able to judge by eye. In places the depth plummeted to more than 20m but the average was around 4 to 5.

Bartica waterfront

Passing Fort Island I was tempted to stop at one of the beautiful, small sandy beaches but the coastguard had phoned ahead to warn Bartica of my arrival.  Best to keep them happy. So on-on.

There was the usual cloudburst a few miles short of Bartica just as I was carefully crossing the shallows at Rattlesnake Passage.  A scattering of rocks in the area were now also totally obliterated by the torrential rain. I slowed right down and waited  for it to pass, which it did soon enough.

The town sits on a point of land where the Mazaruni river joins up with the Essequibo. I sailed up to the recommended anchorage opposite the municipal market and far enough off shore to allow the massive ore barges to use the channel. The waterfront  was busy with the weirdly shaped local water taxis. They have an exaggeratedly high prow and wooden thwarts for about 20 passengers. Massive outboard engines send them speeding over the water raising a high flaring wake. The passengers all seem to be wisely wearing bright orange lifejackets.

I decided to relax for the rest of the day and do my clearing-in first thing on Monday morning.

Tags: cruising
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