We absolutely fell in love with Bonaire. Many boats spend the winter season in the British Virgin Islands and the hurricane season in Bonaire (which is outside the hurricane zone). We seriously considered this option, as Bonaire is as close to Paradise as you can get in the Caribbean. But the Pacific Ocean beckons.
The next passage, from Bonaire to Cartagena, is rated as “one of the five most dangerous passages” in the world, and according to our research, the concern is well founded. During December the “Christmas winds” or reinforced trade winds start to blow and it’s not uncommon to see 30 to 50 knot winds and 10 to 50 ft. seas on this passage. We were presented with a choice: stay in Bonaire longer and explore more of the 150 dive sites or sail to Cartagena within the next few days on a relatively good weather forecast. Our diving friends Pat and Carol were lobbying for us to stay and it was very tempting, but in the end we compromised and delayed our passage a few days to dive at Salt Pier, then set a firm departure date of Dec. 10th to stay within the weather window.
Chris Parker, our weather guru, had predicted light winds (very uncommon for this time of year) for the next week. We needed a four-day window, and were concerned the winds might be too light to sail, so we opted to leave on a forecast of two to three days of 15-knot winds followed by a day of light to variable winds.
Leaving Bonaire was bitter sweet. We sailed pass Wanna Dive, our dive headquarters, with mixed feelings about whether we were doing the right thing and leaving this incredible island. The passage to Cartagena is roughly 500 nautical miles and you need to time your departure so you will transit certain areas at certain times. Trying to time this long a passage is very difficult at best. We had estimated our speed at 5.5 knots, but naturally the winds were stronger and we were averaging 6.5 to 7.5 knots, putting us way ahead of schedule. Anticipating lighter winds in the forecast we figured we adjust our speed later in the trip. It’s easier to slow down than speed up in a sailboat.
We weren’t able to fly our new Code Zero sail, which was a bummer since it would be perfect when the lighter winds arrived. We had finally finished off 12 coats of varnish on the cap rails while in Bonaire, and when taking the masking tape off the stainless steel tubing of the bow pulpit we found the tubing was cracked all along the entire front edge. The rigger who helped us mount the Code Zero didn’t calculate the load properly and when we reinforced the pulpit we put the steel reinforcing plate on the top of the stainless tubing, which meant the tubing was carrying all the load in tension. We should have welded the plate to the bottom of the tubing which would have put the load in compression. (Note to self: Go to Engineering School in my next life instead of being a History Major.)
We opted to not visit Curacao and Aruba since customs/immigration is a hassle and we’d visited Aruba once before. It would make the passage longer, but give us more time in Cartagena. Our route put us over the top of Curacao and Aruba and then sailing a rhumb line to Cabo de la Vela in Columbia.
While sailing at night we opted not to pole the genoa out and run wing-on-wing. Unfortunately this caused the boat to roll side-to-side in the waves as their was no genoa to contract the pull of the main winged out. The next morning we rigged the whisker pole and the boat settled down on her lines and we enjoyed 6.5 to 7.5 knots in about 15 to 20 knots of wind. It was idyllic downwind trade wind sailing at its best. We could actually go below and fix lunches, work on projects, read, etc. without getting tossed from one side of the boat to the other. We had set up a 9:30 pm SSB radio check with Pat on Song Bird so someone would know where we were. We also checked in with the Coconut Net at 8:00 am and the Magellan Net (mainly British boats) at 9:00 am.
On the morning of the 11th we were off the northern tip of Aruba with 15 to 20 knots of wind and 6-foot seas and by evening we were passing Punta Gallinas in Columbia. Given the fact the boat was extremely stable running wing-on-wing and there was no forecast of higher winds that evening, we opted to keep the a single reef in the main and a double reef in the genoa. Sleep that night was much easier as Meryl and I traded off watches every four hours.
People have asked us what we do on night watches. Number one is you are supposed to pay attention, but with limited visibility looking forward for logs, etc, about the only thing you can look for are the white lights of ships. And we did have a lot of ships to pay attention to. Luckily we had installed a Vesper Marine AIS system with WiFi. That meant we could us our iPhones in the cockpit to “see” the AIS signatures of ships out to 48 miles. We would set the iPhone timer to every 20 minutes (the time it takes a ship to clear the horizon and hit us) to do a full horizon scan. Seeing small unlit fishing boats is very difficult in the conditions we were sailing and given the lay out of our boat. On a catamaran, where you sit high up in a captain’s chair facing forward and have glass windshield with wipers, you have much better forward-looking visibility. Many times when buddy boating with Field Trip they would spot stuff in the water we could barely see even after they told us exactly were it was.
Back to night watches, everyone has their own routine. I really like to listen to podcasts such as NPRs “Wait, Wait, Don’t Tell Me, Car Talk, and my favorite, Fresh Air, along with Books on Tape, BBC Drama, and other shows. It is a challenge, however, to stay awake in the later hours. The best thing about night watch is seeing the stars and watching the bioluminescent sparking in the water. The worst thing is hearing the roar of a large wave approaching from astern and feeling the boat’s stern lift up, not knowing if the wave is going to crash over you or toss you violently to one side. Normally, boredom is the most difficult issue to deal with.
We did quite of lot of research on other cruiser’s passages along Columbia, including posting queries to the mail group Cruisers Network Online, which offered a lot of advice. The best info was from Harry and Melinda Schell on Sea Schell. They corroborated with Chris Parker and came up with the strategy of staying fairly close in shore to avoid the heavier winds offshore. Chris’s advice was as follows:
The stretch from Aruba-Cabo De La Vela can be windy, but the underlying gradient winds run under 20k Mon8-Wed10, so you are not likely to see wind much over 20k sustained, gusting 25k, wind-chop 6'.
If you look at a map of Colombia, you can follow this easily:
Wind along a Coast behaves much wind wind across the top of an airplane wing. Where the Coast is uniform/straight, there may be a little more wind than if there were no Coast, but not much more.
Where the Coastline is very CONVEX (where it protrudes into Marine areas), wind tends to be MUCH stronger on the UPWIND side of the convex area.
Where Coastline is CONCAVE (where it recedes from Marine areas), and also on the DOWNWIND side of convex areas...wind tends to be lighter, and you may even see a "rotor", with no wind or variable wind.
So...looking at the Coast of Colombia...after you round Cabo De La Vela (which is CONVEX)...from 72-15W to 73-45W you traverse a CONCAVE area, where winds along the Coast are light. It is in THIS AREA (72-15W to 73-45W) that YOU CAN CONTROL how much wind you see by modulating your distance from the Coast. Typically if you're at-least 30-60mi from the Coast, you'll see the strong offshore Trades which plague this area. If you're within 10-20mi of the Coast you get significantly LESS wind.
During Mon8-Wed10 winds may run 20k (seas 6') sustained Days / 25k (seas 8') sustained Nights (and gusting 5k-or-so higher). If this is too much wind, then just make sure you're within 10-20mi of the Coast...but if wind gets too light you'll want to get 30mi-or-so off the Coast to see more wind.
From 73-45W to 75W you transit the next CONVEX area (Santa Marta / 5-Bays / Rio Magdalena). Here, the strong offshore winds attach to the Coast, and sometimes funnel along the Coast (especially at night with the katabatic winds coming off the mountains).
Not only are winds strong from 73-45W to 75W...but you also transit the mouth of Rio Magdalena, which carries effluent (and flotsam/jetsam) from interior Colombia. It's nice to transit this area in the daytime so not only do you avoid the stronger night-time winds...but you also can see (and maybe avoid hitting) any debris.
There is typically little wind SW of 11N/75W.
The most important things to remember:
1. if you desire less wind/seas, then transit 72-15W to 73-45W within 10-20mi off the Coast.
2. plan to pass 73-45W at Dawn, so you transit the area from 73-45W to 75W in daylight.
Great advice, but our problem was we had sailed too fast and arrived at Cabo de la Aguja (just before 5 Bays and Santa Marta) at night. Even though we were in 17 to 20 knots running wing-on-wing (again with a single-reefed main and double-reefed genoa) the boat was sailing extremely well and was very stable. These are the type of conditions our boat was designed for and it was handling the seas comfortably. Not wanting the boat to roll at night, we elected to leave the sails in their current configuration. Meryl took the first night watch and I went down to get some sleep.
While I couldn’t feel it, the wind had picked up to 20 - 25 knots with occasional gusts up to 30. More important was the seas were building to 8 to 10 feet meaning the boat would get up on top of a bigger wave and then surf down the backside. Thank God our commercial grade autopilot could handle steering in these conditions, but the deteriorating conditions were a concern for Meryl. She woke me up and talked about shortening sail, but my concern was the boat roller side-to-side in the larger waves. I took the rest of the night watch allowing Meryl to get some much needed sleep (but she couldn’t sleep and continued to worry). I knew the boat was stable, although we were now clocking a steady 8 to 8.5 knots and it was a little unnerving to be going those speeds in the dark in big waves. I had much more experience in heavy wind sailing from my racing days, however, and I knew the only concern was something breaking on the boat. So naturally, that’s exactly what happened.
Around 3:00 am (Why is it always 3:00 am when these things happen?) a loud alarm went off and we couldn’t figure out what it was. Then I remembered I’d installed a “high water alarm” and sure enough water was raising inside the boat’s bilge. We quickly tore open cabinets looked for a hose or seacock that had broken, but found nothing. I then put the bilge pump on manual and most of the water was sucked out, but more came in. We decided the best course of action was to turn around and try to sail 5 –7 hours back up wind to Santa Marta where there is a marina and more protected waters.
I got on the VHF radio and put out an alert (Pan, Pan, Pan) to other ships and the Columbian Coast Guard that we were taking on water, but no responses came back. Then I tried the short wave radio, but also got no responses (which is kind of unnerving). Ironically, the day before Meryl was trying to learn how to use the sat phone but it didn’t work. Turned out we’d forgotten to renew the minutes so we used our Delorme InReach to send a text message via satellite to our go-to guy, Jim Berry, to see if he could sort out the problem. True to form Jim got our sat phone back on line that day. I then used it to call the US Coast Guard in New Orleans to see if they could contact the Columbian Coast Guard to alert them of our situation (at this point we don’t know if we are going to sink or what). Thank you Coasties for your help.
After less than an hour trying to sail up wind to Santa Marta we gave up as the big waves were crashing over the top of the boat and we were making zero headway. Worse still, the engine was starting to overheat. I checked the bilge again and found it to be dry. (I think the big waves where pushing water up the rudder tube in into the engine compartment or maybe through the hatches on our swim step. I also remembered that the bilge pump switch gets stuck sometimes and surmised the water we were getting in just wasn’t getting pumped out so our situation wasn’t as serious as it could have been.
We shortened even more sail and headed back downwind and all of a sudden life was much (relatively) calmer. I went down below exhausted for an hours nap while Meryl took the helm at dawn. She came down about an hour later and said a big ship had turned around and was following us (she thinks every ship is a pirate ship). Turns out the US Coast Guard had contacted the Barranquilla port control (super dangerous drug smuggling port) about our situation and the port guy had radioed ships to look out for us. I talked with the ship’s Captain on the VHF and told him the situation was under control and thanked him for his assistance, and then followed up with the Barranquilla port control.
After all that drama, ironically the wind got lighter to the point we had to motor into Cartagena in the dark. We would normally never enter a new port in the dark, but Harry and Melinda Schell’s article said it was very well marked and no problem. There are two choices entering Cartagena harbor, 1) the larger shipping entrance about 5 miles south called Boca Chica (the little entrance), or 2) the closer narrow entrance called Boca Grande (the big entrance). Back in the 17th century Cartagena was a major trans-shipment point for all the gold coming out of South American and going back to Spain. As such, Cartagena was heavily fortified by the Spanish. They even built a five-mile underwater wall so British, Dutch, and French ships couldn’t enter the wider entrance, forced them to Boca Chica where heavy fortified forts with cannons protected the entrance.
The chockstone for us was finding the 100-foot wide opening in the underwater wall that allows smaller ships to enter in modern times. Luckily two very bright lights mark the entrance, which from a distance looked like it was a football field wide. As we approached, however, we found the opening was quite narrow. It’s amazing how your depth perception worsens at night, just when you need it most.
We made it through the opening and were congratulating each other for still being alive when a fast cigarette boat came along side in the dark and hailed to us in Spanish (which neither of us speak). Turned out it was the Columbian Coast Guard (where were you guys when we needed you?) who boarded us and did a very thorough search of the boat with a video camera rolling all the time. They searched our master berth quite extensively and seemed to spend extra time in Meryl’s underwear drawer. They were actually very professional (mainly looking for guns) and finally left (only to come back 20 minutes later realizing they didn’t take video of our ship’s papers and our passports. All this after having been up around 48 hours straight. We followed our chart plotter and spotted the navigation buoys that led us to the anchorage.
To visualize Cartagena at night think of the photos of Miami Beach with high-rise condos surrounding the relatively small harbor. Combined with the port operations and container ship loading pier, the place is lit up like the Fourth of July, which made finding the anchorage and anchoring much easier. It was 10:00 pm when we finally got the hook down and never have we been so happy to crawl into bed and get a good night’s sleep. It was been quite a trip.
We’ve found that very few cruisers have an “uneventful trip” during this passage; we’re just glad to get this one under our belt. It certainly lived up to its reputation even though our wind/wave conditions weren’t even in the ballpark of how bad it can get.
The next passage, from Bonaire to Cartagena, is rated as “one of the five most dangerous passages” in the world, and according to our research, the concern is well founded. During December the “Christmas winds” or reinforced trade winds start to blow and it’s not uncommon to see 30 to 50 knot winds and 10 to 50 ft. seas on this passage. We were presented with a choice: stay in Bonaire longer and explore more of the 150 dive sites or sail to Cartagena within the next few days on a relatively good weather forecast. Our diving friends Pat and Carol were lobbying for us to stay and it was very tempting, but in the end we compromised and delayed our passage a few days to dive at Salt Pier, then set a firm departure date of Dec. 10th to stay within the weather window.
Chris Parker, our weather guru, had predicted light winds (very uncommon for this time of year) for the next week. We needed a four-day window, and were concerned the winds might be too light to sail, so we opted to leave on a forecast of two to three days of 15-knot winds followed by a day of light to variable winds.
Leaving Bonaire was bitter sweet. We sailed pass Wanna Dive, our dive headquarters, with mixed feelings about whether we were doing the right thing and leaving this incredible island. The passage to Cartagena is roughly 500 nautical miles and you need to time your departure so you will transit certain areas at certain times. Trying to time this long a passage is very difficult at best. We had estimated our speed at 5.5 knots, but naturally the winds were stronger and we were averaging 6.5 to 7.5 knots, putting us way ahead of schedule. Anticipating lighter winds in the forecast we figured we adjust our speed later in the trip. It’s easier to slow down than speed up in a sailboat.
We weren’t able to fly our new Code Zero sail, which was a bummer since it would be perfect when the lighter winds arrived. We had finally finished off 12 coats of varnish on the cap rails while in Bonaire, and when taking the masking tape off the stainless steel tubing of the bow pulpit we found the tubing was cracked all along the entire front edge. The rigger who helped us mount the Code Zero didn’t calculate the load properly and when we reinforced the pulpit we put the steel reinforcing plate on the top of the stainless tubing, which meant the tubing was carrying all the load in tension. We should have welded the plate to the bottom of the tubing which would have put the load in compression. (Note to self: Go to Engineering School in my next life instead of being a History Major.)
We opted to not visit Curacao and Aruba since customs/immigration is a hassle and we’d visited Aruba once before. It would make the passage longer, but give us more time in Cartagena. Our route put us over the top of Curacao and Aruba and then sailing a rhumb line to Cabo de la Vela in Columbia.
While sailing at night we opted not to pole the genoa out and run wing-on-wing. Unfortunately this caused the boat to roll side-to-side in the waves as their was no genoa to contract the pull of the main winged out. The next morning we rigged the whisker pole and the boat settled down on her lines and we enjoyed 6.5 to 7.5 knots in about 15 to 20 knots of wind. It was idyllic downwind trade wind sailing at its best. We could actually go below and fix lunches, work on projects, read, etc. without getting tossed from one side of the boat to the other. We had set up a 9:30 pm SSB radio check with Pat on Song Bird so someone would know where we were. We also checked in with the Coconut Net at 8:00 am and the Magellan Net (mainly British boats) at 9:00 am.
On the morning of the 11th we were off the northern tip of Aruba with 15 to 20 knots of wind and 6-foot seas and by evening we were passing Punta Gallinas in Columbia. Given the fact the boat was extremely stable running wing-on-wing and there was no forecast of higher winds that evening, we opted to keep the a single reef in the main and a double reef in the genoa. Sleep that night was much easier as Meryl and I traded off watches every four hours.
 |
| This AIS display shows 33 ships within 12 miles of us. Lots of fun at night. |
Back to night watches, everyone has their own routine. I really like to listen to podcasts such as NPRs “Wait, Wait, Don’t Tell Me, Car Talk, and my favorite, Fresh Air, along with Books on Tape, BBC Drama, and other shows. It is a challenge, however, to stay awake in the later hours. The best thing about night watch is seeing the stars and watching the bioluminescent sparking in the water. The worst thing is hearing the roar of a large wave approaching from astern and feeling the boat’s stern lift up, not knowing if the wave is going to crash over you or toss you violently to one side. Normally, boredom is the most difficult issue to deal with.
 |
| One the "arrivals" you need to time is the crossing of the outfall of the River Magdalena which brings tons of debris from the upland Columbian jungles down to the sea. The water literally turns brown as you approach the outfall. |
The stretch from Aruba-Cabo De La Vela can be windy, but the underlying gradient winds run under 20k Mon8-Wed10, so you are not likely to see wind much over 20k sustained, gusting 25k, wind-chop 6'.
If you look at a map of Colombia, you can follow this easily:
Wind along a Coast behaves much wind wind across the top of an airplane wing. Where the Coast is uniform/straight, there may be a little more wind than if there were no Coast, but not much more.
Where the Coastline is very CONVEX (where it protrudes into Marine areas), wind tends to be MUCH stronger on the UPWIND side of the convex area.
Where Coastline is CONCAVE (where it recedes from Marine areas), and also on the DOWNWIND side of convex areas...wind tends to be lighter, and you may even see a "rotor", with no wind or variable wind.
So...looking at the Coast of Colombia...after you round Cabo De La Vela (which is CONVEX)...from 72-15W to 73-45W you traverse a CONCAVE area, where winds along the Coast are light. It is in THIS AREA (72-15W to 73-45W) that YOU CAN CONTROL how much wind you see by modulating your distance from the Coast. Typically if you're at-least 30-60mi from the Coast, you'll see the strong offshore Trades which plague this area. If you're within 10-20mi of the Coast you get significantly LESS wind.
During Mon8-Wed10 winds may run 20k (seas 6') sustained Days / 25k (seas 8') sustained Nights (and gusting 5k-or-so higher). If this is too much wind, then just make sure you're within 10-20mi of the Coast...but if wind gets too light you'll want to get 30mi-or-so off the Coast to see more wind.
From 73-45W to 75W you transit the next CONVEX area (Santa Marta / 5-Bays / Rio Magdalena). Here, the strong offshore winds attach to the Coast, and sometimes funnel along the Coast (especially at night with the katabatic winds coming off the mountains).
Not only are winds strong from 73-45W to 75W...but you also transit the mouth of Rio Magdalena, which carries effluent (and flotsam/jetsam) from interior Colombia. It's nice to transit this area in the daytime so not only do you avoid the stronger night-time winds...but you also can see (and maybe avoid hitting) any debris.
There is typically little wind SW of 11N/75W.
The most important things to remember:
1. if you desire less wind/seas, then transit 72-15W to 73-45W within 10-20mi off the Coast.
2. plan to pass 73-45W at Dawn, so you transit the area from 73-45W to 75W in daylight.
Great advice, but our problem was we had sailed too fast and arrived at Cabo de la Aguja (just before 5 Bays and Santa Marta) at night. Even though we were in 17 to 20 knots running wing-on-wing (again with a single-reefed main and double-reefed genoa) the boat was sailing extremely well and was very stable. These are the type of conditions our boat was designed for and it was handling the seas comfortably. Not wanting the boat to roll at night, we elected to leave the sails in their current configuration. Meryl took the first night watch and I went down to get some sleep.
While I couldn’t feel it, the wind had picked up to 20 - 25 knots with occasional gusts up to 30. More important was the seas were building to 8 to 10 feet meaning the boat would get up on top of a bigger wave and then surf down the backside. Thank God our commercial grade autopilot could handle steering in these conditions, but the deteriorating conditions were a concern for Meryl. She woke me up and talked about shortening sail, but my concern was the boat roller side-to-side in the larger waves. I took the rest of the night watch allowing Meryl to get some much needed sleep (but she couldn’t sleep and continued to worry). I knew the boat was stable, although we were now clocking a steady 8 to 8.5 knots and it was a little unnerving to be going those speeds in the dark in big waves. I had much more experience in heavy wind sailing from my racing days, however, and I knew the only concern was something breaking on the boat. So naturally, that’s exactly what happened.
Around 3:00 am (Why is it always 3:00 am when these things happen?) a loud alarm went off and we couldn’t figure out what it was. Then I remembered I’d installed a “high water alarm” and sure enough water was raising inside the boat’s bilge. We quickly tore open cabinets looked for a hose or seacock that had broken, but found nothing. I then put the bilge pump on manual and most of the water was sucked out, but more came in. We decided the best course of action was to turn around and try to sail 5 –7 hours back up wind to Santa Marta where there is a marina and more protected waters.
I got on the VHF radio and put out an alert (Pan, Pan, Pan) to other ships and the Columbian Coast Guard that we were taking on water, but no responses came back. Then I tried the short wave radio, but also got no responses (which is kind of unnerving). Ironically, the day before Meryl was trying to learn how to use the sat phone but it didn’t work. Turned out we’d forgotten to renew the minutes so we used our Delorme InReach to send a text message via satellite to our go-to guy, Jim Berry, to see if he could sort out the problem. True to form Jim got our sat phone back on line that day. I then used it to call the US Coast Guard in New Orleans to see if they could contact the Columbian Coast Guard to alert them of our situation (at this point we don’t know if we are going to sink or what). Thank you Coasties for your help.
After less than an hour trying to sail up wind to Santa Marta we gave up as the big waves were crashing over the top of the boat and we were making zero headway. Worse still, the engine was starting to overheat. I checked the bilge again and found it to be dry. (I think the big waves where pushing water up the rudder tube in into the engine compartment or maybe through the hatches on our swim step. I also remembered that the bilge pump switch gets stuck sometimes and surmised the water we were getting in just wasn’t getting pumped out so our situation wasn’t as serious as it could have been.
 |
| I had to explain to Meryl that this wasn't pirate ship but a freighter sent to check on us. |
After all that drama, ironically the wind got lighter to the point we had to motor into Cartagena in the dark. We would normally never enter a new port in the dark, but Harry and Melinda Schell’s article said it was very well marked and no problem. There are two choices entering Cartagena harbor, 1) the larger shipping entrance about 5 miles south called Boca Chica (the little entrance), or 2) the closer narrow entrance called Boca Grande (the big entrance). Back in the 17th century Cartagena was a major trans-shipment point for all the gold coming out of South American and going back to Spain. As such, Cartagena was heavily fortified by the Spanish. They even built a five-mile underwater wall so British, Dutch, and French ships couldn’t enter the wider entrance, forced them to Boca Chica where heavy fortified forts with cannons protected the entrance.
The chockstone for us was finding the 100-foot wide opening in the underwater wall that allows smaller ships to enter in modern times. Luckily two very bright lights mark the entrance, which from a distance looked like it was a football field wide. As we approached, however, we found the opening was quite narrow. It’s amazing how your depth perception worsens at night, just when you need it most.
We made it through the opening and were congratulating each other for still being alive when a fast cigarette boat came along side in the dark and hailed to us in Spanish (which neither of us speak). Turned out it was the Columbian Coast Guard (where were you guys when we needed you?) who boarded us and did a very thorough search of the boat with a video camera rolling all the time. They searched our master berth quite extensively and seemed to spend extra time in Meryl’s underwear drawer. They were actually very professional (mainly looking for guns) and finally left (only to come back 20 minutes later realizing they didn’t take video of our ship’s papers and our passports. All this after having been up around 48 hours straight. We followed our chart plotter and spotted the navigation buoys that led us to the anchorage.
To visualize Cartagena at night think of the photos of Miami Beach with high-rise condos surrounding the relatively small harbor. Combined with the port operations and container ship loading pier, the place is lit up like the Fourth of July, which made finding the anchorage and anchoring much easier. It was 10:00 pm when we finally got the hook down and never have we been so happy to crawl into bed and get a good night’s sleep. It was been quite a trip.
We’ve found that very few cruisers have an “uneventful trip” during this passage; we’re just glad to get this one under our belt. It certainly lived up to its reputation even though our wind/wave conditions weren’t even in the ballpark of how bad it can get.
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