These are the events we endured in our Voyage from St.Martin, Dutch Indies, through the passage of the Panama Canal, in the sailing vessel Titi Nui. It has undergone a refit from a record holding trimeran twenty years ago to a VERY FAST sailing cruiser. I flew to this island to aide a high school friend in the transit.
This log is in reverse order, with most recent events presented first.
I hope you enjoy it!
Going "downhill" by daylight is a damn site better!
We anchored for the night in front of the old Gatun Yacht Club- a major social institution for Canal Zone families for generations. Here we are raising anchor.
Line handlers snooze while waiting to arrive at the next set of locks.
An approaching lock.
The new bridge across the canal saves motorists a hundred mile drive.
Recently the hundred year old gear system that closed these massive doors, the workings of such would fill your house, has been replaced by hydraulic arms. The gears did not wear out, and they still worked perfectly. The system was just too slow for this century's traffic!
The lock drains, and we're off to the next set as soon as the forward gate opens. We are now safely anchored in the Pacific Ocean!
It is ancient- almost 100 years old, but amazing that it is still functioning better than ever. They are actually widening it to have 3 lanes instead of two.
Arriving at the Gatun Locks at 10 PM. We were the last customer that night.
The massive doors close behind the Titi Nui.
Joy waves at her spouse 3000 miles away via webcams installed at each lock.
Tense moments at the helm when one of the line handlers slacks off, causing me to have to power the boat away from a wall. Huge currents fill the chambers and the boat may pitch at any time. We finally set anchor at 2 a.m.
Waiting for clearance from harbor control in Colon, Panama, for permission to enter harbor. Other ships at anchor can wait weeks to get the papers and documents to make the transit.
Shot from the portal on the port side of the engine room.
The robot boat driver fixed, and the forestay repaired that had come loose mysteriously on the passage from St. Martin to St. Thomas had been repaired. The forestay tensioner was swinging around the mast, like a mace from hell, and it had caught Joy on the thigh before finally being brought under control. It could have killed her if it had hit her in the head, but the really weird part is that it had been clearly missing a bushing and this is what led to its failure and coming loose. More sabotage? Who knows, but now everything had been repaired that had become an issue on the way to St. Thomas. The only remaining issue was the Honda outboard motor on our dingy had a propeller issue- it would slip if we tried to move at a pace more than an idle. There were no Honda dealers in St. Thomas, so we decided to leave asap. We had over a thousand nautical miles to go to get to Panama and the canal.
For six nights and five days we swapped the watch. We were surprised to see almost nothing. A cruise ship left St. Thomas thirty minutes after we did, and an hour or so after dark it's glow on the horizon became faint and then disappeared. Puerto Rico was over fifty miles away but provided a glow on our starboard side all night. After that, at night, the only thing you could see was the depths of the Milky Way, meteors, and the unending immense sea of black. To not be humbled would not be human.
So it went for the entire time. No contrails, No Planes, no ships. It would not be until we got within 75 miles of Venezuela that we saw a couple of oil platforms afar that would confirm that people existed at all.
One thing I did enjoy was the observance of flying fish. These creatures really do fly- for a real distance. The larger ones I observed to be about 8-10 inches long, and could stay out of the water for 10 seconds and cover a quarter mile of sea, actually flying up over a wave, then descending the valley then climb again to miss the next wave. It was really beautiful to watch as many as a dozen launch at the same time in formation. It seemed they thought the boat was going to eat them. At dawn there was always a few trapped on our trampolines or caught on deck. Their size and unknown origination point made filming them almost impossible. Here is a close up of their wing / fins that provides the lift necessary for flight.
"Odysseus" comes from the Greek word meaning "trouble". And in our odyssey, trouble we have had. But what does one expect, from a boat that has not had a real test, or even a completed final checklist of all major components and functions?
As we left St. Martin, the boat first lost the autopilot. The destination of Panama had to be scrubbed. We had to go somewhere there were reliable, credible marine mechanics and facilities. St. John was the logical diversion. So we set sail for "America's Caribbean". The loss of autopilot is substantial. Driving this specialized craft is a challenge- the constant rudder adjustments and trim means the pilot is totally engaged with all his senses for the duration of the watch- a period of several hours.
The autopilot, or my favorite name for it is "robot driver" because that is what it does, is a real necessity on a long passage. Just in the 100 plus nautical miles, my hands were torn up and I was exhausted. We needed rest, and got a little between repairs to the boat and two days of sightseeing to St. John.
This was only a warm up. 10 knots all night long with a full moon to light our way. Surfin' the waves!
We finally managed to get off the island. Some Don't
Joy and Grant's son Garrett make final preparations to leave Simpson Bay...
This Blog should have been called "Across the Caribbean"
It has taken two long days of rigging the lines and adjusting the sheets (ropes) of the main sails. We have added a "lazy jack" system which is like a rope basket at the bottom of the boom which catches the sail and stacks it neatly so it does not spoil the deck. Here is a movie demonstrating its function.
Radar Dome added to the wind turbine mount
The weather has been very hot. The hurricane Betsy missed us, but to work here between 11 am till about 3PM is brutal. We continue on the trampolines and the wiring, and winches.
The Gendarme (French Police) have boarded a few boats here looking for papers, visas and passports, but we have had no trouble....
Each trampoline takes about 3 days each with two people working all day. The net has to be strung, squared, and then woven twice with two sizes of ropes, with about 1500 zip ties used in the process for each one.
The upright rails that hold the guide wires are being added by the stainless steel marine fabricators today. Here the bow pulpit was added so the anchor could be used safely.
New cleats were added to the mast. The winches were rebuilt even though the hardware was discarded by the crew who did more sabotage than good.
Once we got in the water, the immensity of tasks became apparent when the work crew was reduced to three people.
Living on a boat, unless it is a super yacht or cruise ship, is always a compromise. The spaces for living are cramp by Tokyo standards. We have been living on the Titi Nui for three days now and even though we have had a toilet, we didn't have a shower until yesterday. Moving around on the boat, which has all our gear on it already, would be tight enough. We have to constantly shuffle things on and off the trampoline, in and out of quarters, hatches, etc. as the work areas shift around, wiring gets pulled, and plumbing installed.
We get rained on, and work in the brutal noonday sun. Our clothes stay wet from the constant sloshing of water of multiple dingy rides to shore for food and errands. In short, it is not comfortable. Last night I slept the best yet because a fan in the forward cabin was finally wired, giving me a respite from the heat. The whole boat finally cools off somewhat in the wee hours of the morning.
The situation reminds me of my childhood growing up in Florida, where air conditioning was a new thing. Our home was built by my father, ever expanding with new rooms built off of a very simple cottage. We didn't get AC until I was a teen. We still slept with fans because my mom thought the new fangled device would catch on fire in the middle of the night if left on. Hell, it didn't really cool the bedrooms anyway because it was one big unit that ccoled the whole house. The Dining Room, where the 10 ton window unit was mounted, would be an ice palace if you wanted to feel the effect in the bedrooms.
Taking a shower was ofter futile back then, because you would be sweating within minutes of drying off. It is like that here on the boat.
Am I complaining? No. This has been an adventure. I walk in beauty. There is magic waking up and watching the sun come up on a clear horizon, and the constant symphony of waves lapping on the boats hull, and the hum of the wind playing the stays of the boat like 90 foot long guitar strings. The far off sounds of dogs barking and roosters crowing onshore provides stuccatto for the grand overture. And if we are not working late, we can observe the whole thing again with an encore provided at the end of the day.
The mountain or hill, really, that is off our starboard side is named Fortune Mountain. That is a nomenclature that seems to fit. Each morning the goats climb to the top, and several of them stand on the promentary, and just look out to sea. They are not eating. They stand motionless for long periods soaking up the view. I think it is play to them. There is nothing on the last 100 feet or so but solid rock. Why do they like looking out to sea?
New Bird Painting
Red Trampoline
Oyster Bay at Sunset
Le Planteure Foyer
The view from le Plantuer deck
Apparently, the ruse worked. Various members of Team BadAss went to other jobs or other countries. We will not know for sure until we are clear of the island. But slowly, the boat came together, the checklists shrank, the problems overcome, and the new Titi Nui presented herself in grand spendor. The new black bottom paint with the red detailing and red trampoline net gave the boat a real racing look that is very distinctive.
Did we encounter more problems? Of course. This has turned into a deriggure Cut Throat Island. Joys "freinds" performances have been less than stellar. Her monetary out flow has been like Niagra. More sabotage by the original work crew was discovered when the boat was hoisted in Simpson Bay Lagoon, and she began to sink immediately, and had to be hauled back out and repaired. Another two day delay. Another lift fee. Another overage. Another day goes by and it is discovered someone has stolen a reverse osmosis water system which was to go on the boat after being put in the water. A police report will do nothing, but we will file one anyway. Everybody here is a crook and not what they appear to be, much less what they present themselves as.....
It was all good, though, while we waited. I have never lived the resort life- pedicures, mud baths, and hot towels. I didn't get it here, either. Friggin coffee maker in the room hardly worked without spitting out a river of scalding water onto our fridge, towels, and tickets to the Saint Martin Opera. I got my scuba certification in a record three days. I crammed so much i actually missed a meal in there somewhere, and I'm still smarting about that.
Speaking of gastronomy and the proof that higher intelligence exists, I must tell you about a French restaurant that is only a quarter kilometer away from our resort that bests any restaurant on the Dutch side of this island, and puts the rest of French restaurants to the test in this hemishere.
Seriously, you would be making a major screw up if you are in the area and did not try this place.
Le Planteur. Yes. The Plantation. They had them here, and it was the French and Creole Culinary Combos that the owner took as inspiration for his mountain side venue that deserves such acclaim.
The view of the ocean in two directions is great, the interior is island chic, the pool is for the noon rush, and the hot crusty French bread, handmade by the owners own hand and recipe, is reason enough to stop by. The deck overlooks the marina in Oyster pond, the Oyster Bay resort, and the dry hills surrounding it that are home to feral pigs, horses and goats.
Try the Venison. The rack of lamb is fantastique! Do you like French Onion soup? You have never tasted it like the French make it here! Creme Broule? That mealy stuff in the states does not compare! Sacre Bleau!
The Planteur is at: Direction La Marina, Lot 37 Oyster-Pond, 97150 St. Martin (FWI)
telephone (0590)29 53 21 Mssr.Maury, proprietor
a man, a pony, the ocean, and a sign for the restaurant!
More Good about the people of St. Martin
Swabbing the hull to prevent growth of algae which lowers the speed in the water is one facet of routine maintainence. It has to be done underwater. You can do it while snorkelling, but having scuba gear makes it an easy task.
Joy sent me to scuba school so I could help in this task. Over ten years ago, I took the schooling for my PADI scuba certification, but never completed.
I did have a little residual fear of the whole process, but after my first open water dive which was in a safe harbor, in a zone that was populated with sunken relics deliberately placed here for tourist's amazement, I was stoked.
There were various sunken monohull sailboats, pirate ship cannons, an old marine research vessel that looked like something out of Jules Verne, complete with portholes and luckily big enough to swim through with tanks. There were airplane propellers, but no fuselage or other airplane parts. There was a large industrial iron assemby that looked like it would be part of a steel mill with holes and round holes that fish darted in and out of. It was like an underwater disneyland made just for us.
My instructor was a very short Peruvian man who demonstrated in short measure just how much a man can be at ease in the water. He was incredibly strong, and proved that he could pick me up with tanks if he wished. I learned later that he was in fact a navy seal in the Peruvian army and had started diving commercially after his retirement.
I got all my dives done in three days, and then two more days for school and testing and it was done. I am now Open Water Certified.
I have to say that Blue Bubbles, the dive shop that has a location here at our resort and one in Phillipsburg, treated me fairly, generously, and with economy.
Blue Bubbles runs diving trips, does certification, offers SNUBA and snorkeling tours. You can rent Jet Skis and purchase what ever you need right there.
The owner, Bobby, is a really warm person that will be straight with you, and will steer you to an alternative spot if he does not have what you want.
Owner Bobby of Blue Bubbles
552-7749 or 554-2502
For a whole song, log on to YOUTUBE - ChuckCarltonFilm
Welcome to the Freindly Island. Yeah, right.
My experience here is that the locals, and all the peoples that populate Sint Maarten have been very friendly. The Dark peoples from here and the surrounding islands that have immigrated here to work the hotels, the businesses and other services have been helpful and kind. But I think that there are many Rhodesians, South Africans, Germans, English, Americans and other assorted Euro-trash that are here because of criminal behavior or some other deep problems that necessitated their leaving their home land. They live under the radar, work outside visas, work cards, or any system. They work for cash, or barter.
After a few unpleasant incidents after the original work crew quit, (they quit because their leader was fired for not adopting a zero tolerance to drugs and alcohol policy , on site) we came up with a plan that would increase our chances of getting off the island without incurring damage to the boat or physical harm to ourselves. The incidents in and of themselves were not life threatening, but showed we were dealing with psychopathic thugs who were hell bent on dishing out as much pain as possible.
The first was a bizzarre demand on the phone when I called a boat supply representative to pick up a major part for the refitting. Without the part, a main sail could not be utilized, and our boat would be sailing without it's full capability. It urns out this person was the guiding force and main henchman that was causing a lot of the problems, if not all of them.
His demand was unprofessional and unethical.
At this point I am not going to add any more fuel to the fire, or publish details that could lead to lawsuits or libel charges, or a more deadly form of retribution for perceived wrongs. In fact, someday I may write an account of the extortion, embezzlement, coercion, and grand larceny that has befell Joy Sutton and her project of completing the sale, refit and relocation of her craft and investment to her New Zealand.
Since we backed off, and told the bad guys we were leaving the island and pretending to quit this "dangerous" project, i have written many pages to post online as soon as we were on our way.
The problem is that the story is too long, complex, and sordid. To post the story online would put me and my freinds and family at risk and have the result of donating my work to the public domain.
I am going to do neither here. You may speak to me in person and I'll fill you in but not in a public forum.
More Trouble
We had further attempts by the bad guys to start fights. We had more property stolen and taunts from the losers and drunks. Our dingy gas tank was stolen. Then, in spite of better security and being of lesser value than other dingys parked on one place on the wharf, the dingy itself was stolen the day after one altercation. It was later returned with minor damage.
Captain Sutton and Grant Woods basically intervened and encouraged me from any rash behaviors against the drunks. These incidents enflamed all of us in disgust, fear and loathing. What they wanted was trouble- to get me arrested, or get the police involved, to jeproadize Sutton and the boat.
The work crew was getting spooked and were insisting on payment on a daily basis.
A Little Back History
One of the original members of the sailing crew from the purchase point in Pawtuckett, R.I., to Saint Martin was a raging alcoholic. One morning, at 2AM, while the Titi Nui was in port in Bermuda, after a night out drinking, the man awoke Joy yelling outside the boat. He came aboard, and continued his ranting. The expletives were many. "I'm going to make the Bitch sell the boat he screamed. The boat will be mine!"
Joy told the man he was to wait for the police. He took the boat's dingy and fled. She called the Bermuda Coast Guard, and the man was run down, searched, arrested, taken into custody. The Maritime Police found a switchblade on him, and he was put on a plane to his native Wales the next day- deported. I may go into more detail about this sordid and potetially murderous situation in a future post, but not at this point in time.
The last thing the Welchman said to the boat, as he was taken off in cuffs was, "Paragon, we will be united again. Just call and I'll be back to you". Paragon was the original name of the Titi Nui which had been built for and by the Afrikaners.
What became clear later, after more bizzarre events unwound, that he was a close freind of many of the henchmen in St. Martin, and now had been "disgraced" and deported because of the attack. Threats were made.
There would be payback.
Were we scared? Of a psychopath and a bunch of hoodlums? No. We were wary and more concerned over the possibility of events that could end in one or both of us in a Caribbean prison. My understanding of the justice metered out on the French side is that it is very poor- no habeus corpus, and the tenet that you are guilty until you prove you are innocent. The possibility of serious injury, a fracas whose end result could be jail or worse, and the possibility that the boat and Suttons investment could go up in smoke made things seemed dire.
Midnight on the Bay
So it was clear the boat may be sabotaged. We had been threatened. We got out sleeping bags and slept for the first night after the threats on the dock by the boat. This is when we came up with the idea of making it look as though Joy capitulated, and being overwhelmed, decided it was not worth her life, and left the island. The boat would be rumored to be back on the market, but work would continue on it so it could be sold. Meanwhile, the Captain and her overweight "bodyguard" (moi) would vanish.
Going into hiding on the far side of the island, for the immediate future seemed like a good idea. So we packed up our gear, left only a few items at the apartment, and moved to a resort Hotel. Anyone watching would see only dark windows in the apartment above the row of French restaurants and tony boutiques at the Marina Royale.
Anyone who looked for us whether knocking at the door, or who tried to scale the two stories and break into the apartment, would only find an empty flat above the marina.
You can drive around the entire circumference of this island in only an hour or so. I am unsure how many live here. The official population figures are about 60 thousand people. With illegal aliens, more like 80,000. But the numbers of large and tall Americans who frequent the eateries boat shops and banks are few. Most stay in the tourist areas. Joy, being tall, blonde, and thin, is instantly recognizable from a distance. And for a woman of such stature, accompanied by a heavy guy over 6' with a shaved head is unusual.
A lot of tourists here come off the boat. There are many different cruse lines that dock here. Many are out of Puerto Rico. But the majority of tourists off the boats are American. We've sat down at the beach front in Phillipsburg and watched them waddle there overly corpulent water buffalo torsos from one end of the quay to the other.
Oh, occasionally a family may have a son or daughter who for some reason hasn't swollen up like roadkill in July, prompting us to wonder how can that lovely young woman or that buff guy be ravaged by the years to morph into the mosters that they are walking with?
For the most part, though, the disease of being part of a sedentary lifestyle has already taken it's toll. It's sort of like watching the Macy's Thanksgiving Parade, Caribbe style.
If we were going to be off the main venues we would be easily recognized .
I told Joy of my concern that our cover would be blown in days ahead unless we were careful to either not be seen together, or at least disguise ourselves. It may be hard to detect who the occupants of a car is until the last moment, so we could drive around OK. We would be insulated in the Hotel compound. But if we went public in the main shopping and commercial areas, we would need to disguise who we are. Dark sunglasses and hats would be a start. But a wig may help. Joy agreed, and we dropped in a beauty shop that had a good selection of woolly head coverings. There were many to choose from, but the selection in color was almost all the wigs were very dark.
Joy found one that looked good in short order. She also said that her purse was known by the crew, it was distinctive and would give her away. She picked out a smart, bright red woven box style, completely different from the kit bag, over the shoulder style she usually sported.
I though about maybe taking up another persona- maybe an older washed up surfer joe style, but nothing seemed right. So with an instant new coiffure and two new skin tight pairs of jeans , Joy and I left the building.
in a strange land full of exotic people, places, and things, the best entertainment sometimes is not of the flesh, but of the unbridled fun of sightseeing and trinkets.
In Phillipsburg, the Cruise ships come in from the US, Puerto Rico and abroad. The fat out of shape Americans are a target for the local bands of trinket salespeople, the restaurant hawkers and the purveyors of shuttle and sight seeing tours.
The Islanders are for the most part very well behaved, polite and easy to deal with. When they call themselves the freindly island, they are really talking about the spirit of the natives. They are warm and very helpful. It is the tourists and the illegal immigrants from all over the world who make their home here.
This Guy wants your business. His line of Rum, spices, jerk sauce, flavored beverages and gift sets are found everywhere you are.
Work on the Titi Nui forged ahead at a rapid pace, with Grant in control and the drunks and dopers gone. It looks like we will get off the island in the next two weeks!
The major tasks at hand were painting, and new rigging hardware design and installation, the completion of the shower and toilet, the installation of new portholes and repairing of hatches.
There has been trouble. Jimmy tripped and fell on the dock, went overbaord and fell into a dingy, striking his cheek on the way down. The cowardly drunks have been back heckling the crew and have tried to start fights. Threats , some veiled and some direct, have been made and we are on constant vigil. Vandalism is a real possibility.
Somehow Art always transcends Strife. We move forward.
A hatch repaired by the first crew must be stripped out and totally redone due to drunken stupidity.
Jimmy the aussie describes something big
Day 2- Tuesday, June 10th, 2008
Confrontation!
The Titi Nui should have set sail today. But repairs and improvements to her have gone excrutiatingly slow to date. Captain Sutton hired Project Engineer Grant Griffin to oversee the process of returning the Titinui to her former glory with new functional improvements and amenities lacking on the boat. Grant had gone back to the States for 8 days, and returned to St. Martin on the same plane as I had arrived on. The lack of progress had been reported to Grant, and he was arriving with great concern over what had been going on while he was in the states. The repairs he specified should have taken 5 days, but he gave the crew 8 to accomplish the work.
Backtracking a little, Captain Sutton had grave concerns over the crews work habits. The island culture is steeped in the consumption of alcohol, and she was appalled to learn that the crew insisted in drinking while working. When told they couldn't drink on the job, they threatened to quit en masse. The inability at that time to find qualified workers on a short timetable meant the captain had to choose between a drunk work crew or none. To be clear this type of un-professional work ethic is not tolerated in the maritime industry anywhere.
Not firing the crew led to the project being lengthened by new problems created by an intoxicated crew. The rudder assembly had been dropped during assembly, the whole weight put on a thin blade and it snapped. Sensitive electronics had been removed with wire cutters. The long list of inexcusable mistakes and damage was making the Captain wonder if the project was being sabotaged.
When Grant arrived back on the worksite, it was after hours. The site was a mess, with tools and components lying about. New electonic items were open and had been left laying about. They had even been rained on.
It was clear that the actions of the work crew was jepoardizing the project and the safety all involved. It was clear the crew had to be replaced. After meeting with the boatyard's owner, JC, Grant and Sutton set upon the task of firing the crew.
It did not go well. That was expected, as the work crew had been insolent all along. With all the problems at hand, the stymied project, and personel problems and even threats from the terminated crew, Captain Sutton was so disgusted, angry, and overwhelmed that she confided that she was ready to pull the plug on the whole project, take huge losses financially, and get on a plane to New Zealand.
There was a respite from the bad news at day's end, however. Grant had located a painter, and two fiberglass technicians who would work at the same time, one fore and one aft. And one of the work crew was to have been a crew member on the sail to NZ. But when work crew was terminated, she took their side, and became verbally abusive. Now she quit and removed her gear from the sailing crew's quarters. Her sailing would have led to questions of her true loyalties to Captain Sutton, a compromised situation at best. So her leaving was a real relief to the captain.
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