On to Guyana
Author: Shirlz
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.
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
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
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.
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