July 2010-Las Aves

July 6-17, 2010 -- Islas de Aves, Venezuela

Aves de Barlavento Aves de Sotavento

Click on a thumbnail for a map during this time period

Aves de Barlavento

Ave is a Spanish word for "bird", so Islas de Aves translates to "Islands of Birds." No location was ever better named. Click here to see Chuck's photos of the birds of Aves. We settled in to Isla Sur of the Barlavento archipelago, after a 46-mile transit to the west from Dos Moquises in Los Roques. As we approached the island we heard from Hunter (Arctic Tern), ahead of us a bit, who advised that we should not wait too long to take in our trolling lines; they had just hooked a Booby (bird) and had had trouble setting the poor thing free. We thanked him, but thinking to ourselves that we were still in very deep water and, mindful that fish are often caught in the 100'-300' range, decided to wait just a bit. Oops. Soon we had also caught a Booby. Our Booby was more fortunate than the Tern's Booby, however. The hook was just entangled in the tail feathers, and had not pierced any flesh. Our Booby was remarkably calm as I reeled him in (backwards, of course), and remained passive and submissive as I held him by his legs, head down, and worked on removing the hook from his tail. When that had been accomplished, I threw him up in the air and he flew gratefully away, even if too embarrassed to give a proper thanks.

We mostly snorkeled during the six days we were in the anchorage. Hunter and Chuck became mighty hunters, each carrying a pole spear and attempting to shoot fish suitable for dinner. "Attempting" would be the operative word, here. They saw lots of fish that were big enough, they got close enough to some of them, but the only reef fish that were consumed in the Aves were those obtained by trading cigarettes (purchased by Devi for just such use) and/or water and/or Bolivars. On one snorkel expedition we were shocked to discover a pair of Lion Fish. They are not native to the Atlantic, but have appeared recently and are multiplying rapidly. They sport toxic tentacles and are fierce predators, and the fear is that they will soon alter forever the composition of the fish population. Both Hunter and Chuck attempted to eliminate the pair, but had no better luck at pest removal than dinner collection.

We also went ashore once to explore Isla Sur. (And of course Chuck also took the dinghy on several solo photo missions.) On the island we found interesting cairns and rock sculptures, and irrefutable evidence that friends Roger and Andy (Oma and Opa) had also spent time in the Aves. (See photo, below.)

Way back on Union Island, Chuck had been commissioned to purchase a small pumpkin while ashore to revise our check-out papers. (Click here to recall the issue involving customs clearances.) When "small" wasn't available, he brought back "medium", because the "pumpkin" of the Caribbean is a squash-like vegetable that is versatile and delicious. "Too much" was greatly to be preferred over "none", and besides, Devi had indicated that she wanted half of whatever Chuck brought back. But the ladies had stocked up on more-perishable veggies in Bequia, and wanted to delay cutting open the pumpkin, since it would last indefinitely so long as it was whole. Time moved on. Someone began to dream of pumpkin soup, and drew a face on the pumpkin, complete with a "balloon" that said: "Eat me". Then someone (with a Tern-like script) changed the words to read: "Don't eat me till all else is gone." About a week later, all else was. Someone thought the soup was to die for.

And speaking of food: Devi gave some of the local fishermen a pack of cigarettes, and they promised to bring back fish and/or lobster. Several days later they returned with FOUR lobster. Chuck volunteered to do the cooking -- he had experience from our time in Saba and St. Martin with our Norwegian friends Lars Helge and Tove. (Click here to refresh your memory of that visit.) He split them in half and laid them shell-side down on the grill, slathered olive oil and chopped garlic and salt and pepper, and grilled until the the meat was just done. Big hit.

We saw very few vessels during our stay at Isla Sur. One night a sailboat came inching into the anchorage well after dark. The Terns were over on Tusen Takk II to play some bridge, and we all watched in amazement. We knew from our own approaches during good light conditions that there were many treacherous reefs that would need to be dodged, and could not understand how the new arrival dared to proceed. They finally made it to our spot, and pulled right in front of Tusen Takk II and dropped anchor. Far too close. Hunter and I jumped into his dinghy and approached them, and found an adult male and two teenage boys aboard. The adult seemed out of his element and inexperienced. We explained that he was too close, and assured him that the anchorage was large and that there was plenty of space behind Arctic Tern and well off to the starboard of Tusen Takk II. We offered to go over to a suitable spot and shine our lights so they would know where to go. We waited at the spot. And waited. Went back to the vessel and found that the boy at the bow had tangled the anchor line and fouled the winch. Hunter asked if he could come aboard and help, and was given permission. When the anchor was pulled, the captain paid no attention to the conditions, and it looked for several very scary moments like they would be pushed onto the bow of Tusen Takk II only to be T-boned. The captain finally was able to process the shouted "suggestions" and "warnings", and was able to narrowly avoid hitting the bow of TTII as he pulled past to approach the position I was marking. When they dropped the anchor, I took the dinghy back to pick up Hunter, and we returned to our bridge game. A few bridge hands later we looked up and groaned: "Oh no -- they are dragging!" Hunter hurriedly jumped back in his dinghy and raced over. Coached the captain into how to pilot while Hunter raised the anchor. Dropped it again. Drug again. Pulled it up, dropped it again. Then moved laterally and dropped a second. They stuck. Had a nice conversation. Venezuelans that spoke passable English. They had left Margarita much earlier. Arrived late at Los Roques. Got a late start the next day, and so arrived at Las Aves well after dark. But had a set of coordinates in the GPS that were alleged to be the safe path into our anchorage -- which is how they managed to get in to us. Their destination was Aruba, and they intended on leaving early the next morning. Which they did. Which made the crew of at least one of the other vessels in the anchorage very glad.