Tripping North

Sunset behind mainland mountains.

After reaching safe harbour in North Landfall, Santa Catarina, we recovered for six days, working on odds and ends on the boat, exploring Jurere, searching for internet connection daily, restocking groceries, cleaning bodies, boat and clothes (We had two baskets of laundry cleaned for $60 CDN.  A bit of a shock - but I think each piece of clothing was ironed!) and, on the last day, renting a car to explore the greater island.

Souped up tractor does the work at the marina

"Tall ship" with stubby masts are party boats seen in every harbour.

Our first impression of Brazil was very positive.  Besides pictures of Rio, we had no clear expectation of what the geography would be like.  It is stunningly beautiful.  Very steep, jungle clad hills/mountains going down to long, wide expanses of fine, white sand beach or to enormous, rounded boulders.  Blue sky and sea on our first days made it picture perfect.

Praia Mole on Ilha de Santa Catarina - surfers just out of view

Praia Mole

After a perfect sail downwind!, we anchored in Caixo d’Aco even more beautiful small anchorage, surrounded on three sides by those steep, green hills with a tiny beach in the bay where children played soccer in the evening under floodlights.  The beach is likely the only flat land in town. 

Enjoying a beautiful sail.

Picture perfect in Caixo d'Aco

The harbour was dotted with colourfully painted fishing dories and on one side of the harbour were about three rows of a variety of colours, shapes and sizes of dwellings. 

Caixo d'Aco means metal box - so we were told.

We shared the harbour with three tiny thatched restaurants on rafts with tables also set on rafts.  Eric, one of the owners, greeted us and suggested we use his wifi which we gratefully did while sitting at a rafted table at his closed, sadly, restaurant (off season).

Site of our internet connection.  We sat at a table once a day.  No service though.

Our plan was to sail north to Itajai on Thursday to see the Volvo Ocean Race boats in action for the inharbour race on Saturday and the start for the Newport leg on Sunday.  We reached Itajai just as the boats were on a training race course.  Very exciting to see these amazing racing machines that we - especially Peter - have been following for months.

Fantastic boats

We checked out the only anchorage in the busy city but in a high wind and incredibly shallow water it was impossible without being extremely close to another boat whose owner promptly set up shop on deck after putting out some extra fenders, we gave up.  The city offered no other dockage, moorings, or anchorages.  So, regrettably missing the Volvo action but grateful that we had seen the training, off we went into what was now wind on the nose and threatening skies…again!!

Unfortunately, I have become a tad more nervous after our long voyage.  I feel it in my cynicism of weather and wind reports particularly and have become a vigilant observer of clouds and waves.  Lately, there always seems to be lots to watch.  As we left Itajai, fishing boats seemed to be hightailing it for harbour, the other way from where we were headed.  The next place listed in our cruising guides was about 40 NM away which would be uncomfortable and get us there at midnight.  

Luckily, on our chart there was a little pink anchor around the next very large point only a couple of hours away.  We decided to go for it in the rain and wind.  Rounding the point, the wind subsided and in the dusk light and pouring rain, we could see a fleet of fishing dories - more than one hundred - and what we assume were mussel farms.  We set anchor, relieved to be in a sheltered harbour.  Funny thing is that once you find shelter, you think that even the sea must be quiet.  Venturing out again?  No way!

We were one of two sailboats in harbour of fishing dories.  

On our way the next day to Sao Francisco do Sol.  Again, unexpected wind!  It’s getting a bit boring, I know, but super frustrating for us, me especially.  Peter loves sailing of all kinds, even up wind with three meter seas and threatening skies all around that required dowsing sails, dodging cells, etc.  By now, you know the drill.  The wind eventually backed though and we enjoyed some fast  beam reach sailing.  Sao Francisco has a long entry between islands and over a shallow sandback which in the high waves was breaking.  We, of course, shortened the route.  By this time we were motoring and with the waves behind us went over the shallower water and surfed at 13 knots.  

Dusk approaching.  We have to get this timing right!  We finally anchored just outside the city center.  The city is tiny so this was not difficult.  And the party was just beginning.  At 8 the live rock and roll band took center stage in our backyard and rocked on until after 3 a.m. 

Next morning we noticed tens of motorcycles arriving to the downtown.  Lo and behold, when we went ashore to explore, there were hundreds of motorcycles parked with their drivers, who must look the same the world over, wandering the streets.  It was an outdoor motorhead show! on a very sweet, colonial, slightly bedraggled main drag.

The restaurant of choice was running out of food and refused to serve us.  We bought some barbecued pork - delicious - and hurried back to the boat to change anchorages.  We were now behind the museum - a bit removed from the party scene but right beside the port where ships were being loaded.  We preferred the industrial drone to head-banging, heavy metal all night. 

Behind the museum.  Our second anchorage.

Up at 3:30 a.m. determined to arrive in Paranagua in daylight.  Cloudy and rainy day but no storms.  A beam reach the entire 40 NM.  After going through the Paranagua shipping anchorage where at least sixty ships were anchored bringing visions of what the invasion fleets must have looked like in WWII, we passed through a narrow channel with breaking waves on both sides.  We arrived at 2 p.m. in daylight - we are learning - to an isolated anchorage.  Apparently, it’s Indigenous Day today and we have chosen an anchorage which is hosting a party out of sight in the jungle.  But we can hear it.  Much better music choices.  We’ll see how it goes tonight.  Tomorrow we plan to move to the yacht club so we can resupply with diesel and extra water.

Jungle on an "ecological hike" at Porto Bella

Vulture with a view

Next voyage has me slightly concerned.  It is a 220 NM trip to Ilhlabela or Ilha de Sao Sebastiao and more predictable weather reportedly.  But again it is a coast of one long beach with only one safe harbour, Santos, the busiest shipping harbour in Brazil.  We plan on skipping it.  Weather permitting!

Once there we will enjoy what some have described as the best cruising location in the world!

A Shake Up Cruise - La Paloma to Santa Catarina, Brazil

This is a chapter!  Excuse the length.

For the past two years, I have been anxious about this passage, thinking it might be the hardest of our entire time onboard Milly.  It is about five days long and against the current and prevailing wind.  The strategy is to wait for a low (bad weather) to pass out to sea and sail north on it’s tail end.  The route is complicated by the fact that there is only one harbour, Rio Grande do Sul, between departure and port of call which in itself is tough.  It has a long (miles long), narrow entrance which is also a shipping lane and at the mouth is a strong tidal current.  On top of that, it reportedly doesn’t have a lot going for it as a destination. We didn’t want to go there and were hoping for a long enough window to do the full five days to Santa Catarina. 

Maybe the little birds who visited offshore were trying to tell us something

We did all the right things. We studied various gribs (wind forecasts) for days, and PredictWind forecasts and route choices by dates.  We hired a professional weather router of outstanding repute to establish the best day for departure and, once chosen, to give a complete forecast for each day as predicted by boat speed. All data pointed to a Tuesday a.m. departure.  Wind was forecasted to be light but from the south or east. We anticipated a slow voyage north.  Alas, Mother Nature is fickle and none of the forecasts served us well.

We left La Paloma early with blue skies and very little wind.  An easy, slow, slightly frustrating sail.  Late afternoon we were alerted to a storm by thunder. Lo and behold, forked lightning lit up the entire horizon behind us.  An enormous black front was approaching.  We had been sailing wing-on-wing in very light winds and flat seas.  We furled both sails and put up the enclosure minus the stern panels around the cockpit.  Laptops, iPads and handheld devices were put in the oven, our Faraday Cage.  And then we held tight while watching the horizon disappear in rain and the wind pick up.  There was no where to escape to, the system was too huge.

Holy Shit! It's coming!

And then it hit us.  Winds held at 47-49 knots (87-90 km/h) for about 30 minutes. (Time stood still for awhile and seemed much longer than 30)  The top gust hit 57 knots (105 km/h).  Luckily, the seas were flat so the sailor’s worst enemy, high waves, were not a factor.  But hail the size of moth balls poured down for at least twenty minutes. 

During this time, Peter stayed at the helm.  The wind blew so strongly that although under the hard bimini he was soaked.  The enclosure was stressed to the max and a corner was torn off.  I was inside watching the wind instument reading rise with wide eyes.  I opened the door for no more than 15 seconds and I, too, was soaked, head to foot.  Neither Peter or I were afraid for ourselves.  At no time did Milly founder or seem threatened.  Instead, we were both worried about how she might be damaged by wind and hail.  Poor Milly.  But unlike Peter’s car caught in a hail storm, she showed no pock marks or damage.  After it was over and the skies were clear with light winds once again, the only consequence of the storm was the wind instruments inconsistently recording nonsense.  That settled after thirty minutes or so.  And all was well.  We were dazed and in a state of disbelief but fine and happy to know Milly was a well-built boat that we felt safe in.

Thirty minutes later, we had recovered enough to take a picture of the remaining hail.

Gradually, the wind turned from the expected and desired south wind on our stern to a head wind on our nose.  At first, the water was flat and even though our progress was slow, we had a pleasant, relaxing sail for our second afternoon.  At this point we passed Rio Grande, the only harbour on the way, thinking that we would continue on slowly under these light headwinds until the forecast played out and the winds became south again.  

Relaxing and content

Time for showers.

However, contrary to forecast, the winds increased over twelve hours to give us two or three days (and nights) of headwinds of about 24 knots or so.  No problem, except the waves also increased to two-three meters making inside living challenging unless lying down.  Waves splashed over the bow and occasionally the side soaking everything over several days with salt. 

Chart couldn't decide which ocean we were in!

Really determined that we had gone through the Panama Canal.

We had been sailing on a reefed sail - smaller sail - especially at night.  Despite the factory’s best efforts to fix a reefing line that chafed with use, the solution did not satisfy the conditions we were facing.  On attempting to reef for the second last night, the second reef line block popped out - no second reef.  Turned to the first reefing line, a bigger sail but still smaller than the full main. On tightening it, it broke - chafed through.  Good thing we had two strong motors.  The wind had decreased and so it was a relatively relaxing but noisy night.

Relaxing? upwind.  Holding on, blood in head, blood in feet.

Finally, during the last 24 hours the wind started to back and ended up turning 180 degrees to come from the south - yippee.  Instead of pounding into ever increasing seas we could surf.  Prospects looked good to get us to port at midnight - oh, oh, not so good, dead of night is never good to approach landfall.  So we were not in a hurry.  

During the late afternoon, the skies to the west, east and north - straight ahead - lit up with lightning!  Mother Nature was testing us big time and it was getting a little tiresome!  As night fell, we could follow the lightning visually and the heavy rain cells on the radar.  With us both at the helm, Peter dodged them successfully by slowing down or turning east or west.  It was quite a game.  About this time the chart plotter computer announced to us that it was no longer sending wind data.  Gremlins!

As the lightning eased to the east over the ocean, I took my watch.  Slowly the winds and waves built up.  I was attempting to go slowly - boat speed under 5 knots. As the wind picked up I had to pull back on the throttle.  On Peter’s watch, I attempted to sleep.  I woke after about an hour to howling wind.  Peter was surfing down 3 meter waves at 13 knots boat speed with bare poles - no sails - while listening to a podcast!  No more sleep for me.  We sat together at the helm watching these breaking waves.  It was a bit like a roller coaster.  One pooped our cockpit, meaning it broke right at our stern and flooded the cockpit.  Thanks to great design, the water did not enter the saloon even though the door was open.  We turned on the motors to keep up with the speed of the waves.  No more pooping.

I got both our lifejackets.  Unfortunately for me, I had read too many books all of which said not to take a breaking wave broadside in a catamaran and we had to cross the wind to go into the channel leading to the harbour of sanctuary.  Granted the books were referring to much bigger waves but these were the biggest I had seen and that was enough to provoke my first anxiety of the trip.  Peter, on the other hand, was having a wonderful time and completely enthralled with how Milly was handling the waves.  The wind and waves were wild but Milly and Peter were in complete control.

Gradually, we turned and made headway into the relative shelter of the island.  Maybe 2 meter waves now.  Peter went for a quick nap.  It was still dark, sunrise due in about 30 minutes.  I slowed the motors a bit so as to get to harbour in the light.  But Mother Nature wasn’t finished with us yet.  A squall hit with winds that woke Peter with a start.  No wind reading but when exhausted and with the end of the passage in sight - literally - it was a bit over the top.  We were breached from the side.  Then I read that the winds in the channel can be “vicious” with a south wind.  Great!

We motored into the harbour, anchored without pause, put away lines etc. ate a bit of food and fell into bed.  The wind was still howling but we were protected with the much gentler rocking of the harbour.

Lessons Learned:

• Put the full enclosure up for an upcoming storm
• Peanut butter on crackers is a good meal with big waves - PB doesn’t slide off
• You get a full core workout trying to stay upright even while sitting down when waves are big
• Keep toilet seat down in big seas - otherwise, it falls down and you wonder what the noise is
• wear polyester
• iI’s never over until it’s over.  No complacency allowed.
• One feels “more alive” with all this (over)stimulation
• Put all electronics into oven pronto with lightning
• Everything gets wet with saltwater and then never dries - ie. bedding, cushions, feet, floor.  By the last night we could only sit on the helm chair.  Everything else was wet.
• Satellite communication (KVH) is a godsend - we could download weather info (even though it was inaccurate, it felt good to have) and communicate by email to reassure family
• Microwaves can be useful after all.  I am a convert.
• Podcasts are good company on watch
• Screw jar tops on well in fridge.  Otherwise, pickle juice soaks everything.
• Heads are small in boats for good reason.  Big spaces mean more room to fall.
• Elasticized waist for pants or shorts handy for single handed removal or retrieval

At the end of it all, I have a great respect for Milly and how she is designed and built.  Thank you, Ted Clements, Memo Castro and Antares!  

I have a great respect and have thanked Peter numerous times.  He always remained calm and positive - talk about seeing the silver lining - even excited. I could see the wonder and enjoyment in his face when I was perhaps not as happy. His understanding, confidence and expertise are just what I need to be able to learn and enjoy myself.  

But I have little confidence in weather forecasting which has left me a bit freaked out.  Even with all our studying and with a professional weather router, the experienced weather was no where close to the forecast.  So what to make of that?  Hopefully, it’s the location - reknowned for fast changing and unpredictable weather patterns. We were caught in a high pressure system between two lows.  When the high eventually moved to the east the two lows squished us.  A cold front with lightning passed us followed by very strong winds.  They even have a name for this southwest wind here it’s so infamous, The Pampeiro  

Safe harbour.  

    As we go north, especially to the trade winds, the weather should improve and become more predictable and consistent.  Meanwhile, we have done our big voyage in the south.  For the next 1,000 NM or so, we are hopping up the coast.  We will wait for weather windows - we have no schedule and are not in a hurry - and, hopefully, will have some easier, downwind sailing.

La Paloma, Uruguay

The harbour with a bit of everything.  All the fishing boats had those bazooka looking things on top?

We had a very pleasant six day stay in La Paloma, a small surfing town that was in it’s quiet, post tourist season.  Gorgeous, wide and wild beaches that went for miles and miles and miles and miles - really the entire Uruaguayan coast is one long beach - and sand dunes were spotted with very occasional bathers and surfers.

We got our bikes out and set off into the rolling, agrarian countryside. One day we rode to a large laguna with a small fishing village on the stunning sand duned shore.

Tiny village situated on dunes about 100m across between lake and ocean.

Fishing in the lake.  Once a year shrimp somehow got from ocean to lake for frenzied shrimping.

The next to a genuine “hippie” surfing village - one main street lined with small cafes and a high sand dune on which to perch while watching surfers ride huge swells.

Even the memorials to grandparent surfers showed their passion.

 La Paloma harbour was small but hosted a variety of activity.  There were about 20 sailboats at dock, a navy "base" without any boats,

The Armada also had a rural navy base.  

a fleet of small time fishing boats at a separate quay and a lumber industry dock where a ship came into harbour turning in close quarters a bit too close to Milly twice in the six days we were there.

Taken from Milly!

  Loading of lumber then went on incessantly for about 36 hours.  Fisherfolk and boat gazers came to the boating dock each evening.  Milly attracted a lot of cameras.

Also from Milly.  This guy is gazing at us while cradling a large thermos for his mate which is in his other hand, ubiquitous in Uruguay.  Mate is a tea - we haven't found out it's chemistry - a stimulant, for sure.  The leaves are stuffed into the cup, often made from a gourd and always with a flouted edge.  The leaves are strained through teeth and a special straw made from silver.  People carry thermos and cup everywhere and drink it throughout the day.

Beside us was another catamaran with a very unusual jury rigged mast made of what looked suspiciously like a radio/TV antenna.  We learned that this youngish South African couple had been sailing up the coast with spinnaker when the wind shifted and accelerated, bringing down the mast.  They had been in harbour six months and had designed this alternative mast.  Still didn’t have a boom though.

A radio tower mast?

Across the quay was another motor/sailboat owned by a Dutch guy.  He had sailed it from Holland, single-handed but had to be rescued off the coast of Brazil - full story not told.  Both tales unnerved me a touch.

While in harbour, we were hailed by a English speaking dog walker who explained to Peter that he lived at Spadina and Bloor in Toronto half the year painting houses and the other half in Uruaguay.  The next day he brought us seven fish he had caught and some herbs from his garden.  Peter cleaned and I filleted.

Boat in harbour, sorting his haul.

Another guy stopped us on the road as we were biking.  As another Bike Friday owner, he recognized our bikes.  He was from Oregon, had married a Uruguayan born woman who grew up in B.A. and they had bought land and built a house in this small town in which a number of expats seemed to have made home.  Steve kindly invited us to lunch, picked us up and hosted us in his beautiful home with a spectacular view of the ocean.  He is a furniture maker and had finished the house and garden himself.  We chatted for four hours learning a great deal about life in Uruguay and Argentina.

Harbour entertainment

All in all, this part of Uruguay was quiet with friendly people and wild beaches and a rolling, pasture land and tranquil forest.  We very much enjoyed it but after six days and the oncoming, less friendly winds of autumn approaching, it was time to be on our way.

Punte del Este to La Paloma

It is amazing how time flies by when we are in port.  We were in Punta del Este for four days.  March 23rd saw us untying the mooring lines - much easier than tying them up - and leaving a couple of hours later than expected.  Before starting our engines we realized that we had excess oil after the Volvo guys changed it in San Fernando and we had to drain over a litre off - a new and valuable experience for future oil changes - but made departure at one end late and, hence, arrival at the next port later.

Punte del Este before rounding the punt

Rounding the punte, we discovered a different sea state.  It had been blowing over 20 knots for the days we were in harbour and that had kicked up a decent swell which we immediately felt.  What a difference from the short, choppy waves on the river!

We made a slight detour to gaze at the sea lions on Isla de Lobos, apparently one of the largest colonies of sea lions in the world.  We chose to look through binoculars and, hence, to avoid the infamous smell that comes along with lying around in the sun, fish breath and tons of excrement.

From a safe odourless distance

From there it was a straight sail in light winds 40 NM to La Paloma.  We successfully flew the spinnaker for the first time on our own which was exciting.

Wind shifted as we neared La Paloma pointing us prematurely toward shore.  The last few NM were spent motoring, trying to beat the approaching sunset and have light to make it into an unknown harbour.  

As it was growing dark we approached the dock, expecting to see mooring balls as we had read.  Instead, a guy on dock waved us to a point.  This meant a flurry of frenzied activity.  Our first “med mooring” facsimile with bow to dock with two bow lines and tied to two buoys at the stern.  My set up - both mentally and physically - was all amuck.  And we had an audience of fisherfolk on the dock and crew of an adjacent catamaran who obviously had stake in our proficiency.  I am not one for audiences - the pressure was exacerbated.

To our advantage, the wind was insignificant.  Peter was able to steer Milly so I could catch one buoy and secure the line at the stern.  Then I went to the bow as fleet as foot as possible to throw the lines to the onlooking prefectura who then tied while Peter admirably held Milly off the neighbouring catamaran.  Now, throwing the line a distance of about 30 feet is no easy feat.  You coil some of the line with the bitter end in throwing hand and hold the rest of the line, coiled in the left hand.  I had to prepare this at the moment and throw to two guys who were loudly jabbering in Spanish at me.  Then you wind up and throw with the throwing hand while releasing with the left.  An added complication are the lifelines which encircle the boat just below waist height - a nice safety feature.  The coiled line must be hurled above the lifeline but on a strong forward trajectory to get to the catcher.  Luckily, the technique was required in San Fernando so I had done it twice.  Wind up three times underhand and then hurl.  Successful times two. Phew!  Disappointingly, no clapping from the audience.

Finished tidying, the skipper of the other catamaran secured our second stern line - as I said, he had a stake in this - and we were done.  As a denouement, over both sides of the boat hundreds of tiny, bioluminescent fish gave off a blue light while darting around the hull.  Beautiful!

Punte del Este

Buenos Aires with the chocolate milk water of the river

The passage to Punte del Este took 36 hr instead of the expected 30.  The direction of the wind did not cooperate as forecasted and the vast majority of our trip was upwind except for a couple of downwind hours at a measly 5 knots or so - barely moving. 

Wing-on-wing downwind

We polished and cleaned, read, and I even did pilates.  Once again we tested our stamina and the boat by bashing against the waves and all held up admirably.

As per usual on the Rio de la Plata, we had to dodge ships - floating and sunken.  Each of the “obstacles” on the chart seemed to magnetically draw us to them.  On my watch, of course, we headed straight toward the famous World War II wreck, “Graf Spree” just before the shipping lanes in the dead of night.  I diligently changed the course of the autopilot to avoid by going upwind and thought I was adjusting the sails accordingly but Milly did not cooperate and kept inching back toward that magnetic pull and frustrating the heck out of me.  In final desperation, I woke up a snoring Peter to come to my aid.  Poor guy, he was rocketed out of his sleepiness to quickly adjust sails to more effectively pinch upwind.  Black as pitch and no time for photo.

On another occasion, again on my watch, another wreck and obstacle in our way, I had pinched as much as I could, I thought, and felt that I had effectively managed the obstacle.  As every sailor should, I wanted a back up plan…turn on engines to change course.  To do so meant I needed light on the engine panel and, thinking I was brilliant, I flicked the instrument switch on our dash board only to have every instrument including chart and radar go off.  SHIT!  I had created a crisis.  Another wake up for Peter.  Some quick orientation to the panel and instruments which he had always turned on and managed.  No more!  This first mate will now never forget how to manage the dashboard and instruments.  Lesson learned - know how to do every iota of the boat myself!  Peter needs to sleep.

On a proud note, I did decide and manage to tidily and properly furl the genoa on my own, turn on the engines and begin to take down the mainsail before Peter made his way to the cockpit without being called in a panic when the contrary wind sent us on a course in the opposite direction to our destination.

I don’t know what adventures Peter had on his watch.  I was trying to sleep.

First view!

We can only imagine what it’s like after crossing an ocean but even after 36 hours, sighting of destination is exciting! Beautiful hills and green sea met us in the a.m.  We arrived in Punte Del Este with strong winds to negotiate tying up to a mooring ball.  Peter backed at full power to the ball and I grabbed it with our Robship hook.  It worked on the second attempt.  A full workout - Peter in concentration and I in upper body conditioning.  

Raising the Uruguayan courtesy flag

In such a strong wind we did not want to head to shore to check in and so had a few beer and peaceful dinner to celebrate our safe arrival at our first port of call, Punte del Este. among the sea lions and jellyfish in our backyard.

Sea lions are aptly named - full mane and foul oral hygiene

Juxtaposed grand yacht with bathtub fishing boat

Typical?

Next day, on check in we were told to move the boat to the very outskirts, sea side of the mooring balls.  Again another workout to catch a mooring ball in a growing wind which during the night roared and brought in enormous, rolling and, even in our stable catamaran, a little uncomfortable swells.

Fishing boats shared our harbour with grand sailing vessels and motor yachts.

Punte del Este is billed as the best beach resort in South America.  It is a small and more charming Miami Beach.  Set on a peninsula bout 6 blocks wide, it has the calmer waters of the river on one side and the gorgeous surf of the Atlantic on the other.  Miles and miles of beaches are on both shores.

 

Selling sweaters on the beach. It must be getting cold.

The town itself is full of restaurants and condos with a small and relatively exclusive residential area at the tip.  Apparently in January and February, it is packed with partiers.  March is the tail end of the season. We saw the last of two very large yachts leave for Europe when we were there. 

Fidelis, 56 m long

The beaches were not crowded and the pleasure craft of the usual beach resorts were few.  Over the five days we stayed, the temperature dropped and the winds from the south were chilly.  Time to head north to our next port and last in Uruguay, La Paloma.

Where in the world is Milly?

Farewell, Argentina!

Our week in San Fernando was spent in the hustle and bustle of the final commissioning of Milly which Memo orchestrated beautifully. Each day a brigade of factory workers would arrive to work on the list of things that needed attention, Peter and I would leave to top up our provisioning, and at the end of each day we would check the tasks accomplished off our “Memo list”.  The list was cleared in four days and Peter and I began to make plans for our final leave taking.

Peter up the mast lubricating the mast track

Monday was spent immersed in the bureaucracy of “checking out”.  We take for granted how simple it is to arrive in and leave a country through an airport - one staff, perhaps a little taciturn, to stamp and ask questions.  Not when arriving in or departing from a country in a sailboat.

We had checked in the week before - the tour of offices to check out happens in reverse.  Each time we went through the half day process, Santiago lead the charge and we followed along, once again grateful for his expertise, diplomacy and guidance.

Checking out in Argentina requires a visit to the yacht club office for a stamp to say that we are in good stead.  Then to immigration in Tigre, another town about 10 km distant, to check Peter and I out. Then to customs an office right next store to customs separated by a glass partition but never the two do mix, not even to pass papers.  Instead, the papers in immigration were returned to Santiago who took them to the next window, on the other side of the booth to the ladies in customs.  They took same papers and stamped away.  Then off to the prefectura or coast guard in San Fernando for a final stamp which on all previous Antares visits had been rubber.  Up to now the process had been efficient and at all points with friendly, smiling staff.  

The prefectura had a new first officer on duty.  He told Santiago, without a smile and with no room for negotiation, that Milly needed to be inspected.  We would have to take her to their inspection office up river.  With some frustration and disbelief that this new rule was in place, off we went.  Memo joined us and we motored up to a delapidated, floating “dock” with only one point to tie to, a fleet of sorry looking prefectura boats, some with very large steel bumpers and one other sailboat also waiting for inspection.  No one expected or assisted us and staff seemed a bit perplexed that we had arrived. Santiago leapt ashore and waited for the new officer to arrive from the first building we had gone to less than a five minute drive away.  We waited 40 minutes.  A stressed out junior officer eventually came on board to inspect for his new boss.  He walked the foredeck, stepped inside the saloon and, with sweat on his forehead, stamped our papers.  Santiago then jumped ashore to gather the said papers.  Meanwhile the floating dock floated away.  The piling that we were tied to was no longer accessible to Santiago who had to leap from another higher dock to Milly as she motored by.  Luckily, his leap was sound and he did not fall into the brown waters of the delta.

The prefecture inspection office with Milly tied to the piling and dock that escaped.

A visit back to the yacht club office to give in a couple of the stamped papers and a final visit back to customs in Tigre to give in two papers stamped by the prefectura saw the end of a very full day.  Peter and I then ventured forth to fill Milly with diesel for the first time - another adventure.

Good-bye, intimidating cement dock

We untied the lines at 7:00 a.m. the following morning in a beautiful dawn light.  We said good-bye to our cement dock and ominous steel block and motored out of the club.  Although we had had a good stay at the Yacht Club Argentino, we were ready to leave and set off for the first stage of our grand journey north.  However, we now understand the sadder part of cruising - saying good-bye, perhaps forever, to friends made along the way - this time Memo and his family and Santiago. 

Farewell, Argentina!

We are very grateful to Memo and Santiago for their patient diligence and guidance in so many facets of our stay in San Fernando.  And we have continued to be impressed by the skill and knowledge of those who work at the factory.  We always knew that Milly was in the best of hands.