June 19-27, 2010 -- Isla Cubagua & Isla Tortuga, Venezuela
Click on the above thumbnail for a map during this time period
Isla Cubagua
On the afternoon of June 19 we left Porlamar at about 2 pm and moved to the
small flat and dry island of Cubagua which lies to the south of Margarita. There are fishing huts there, and a Coast Guard outpost. We hoped
that by arriving late, we would not be driven away by the Coast Guard, and that
anchoring in their bay would afford some measure of security. It worked.
We arrived at about 5:30 pm, and were hassled by neither the Guard nor banditos.
We left early the next morning without incident.
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Large pod accompanied us ...
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... for a good part of the journey
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Cubagua lighthouse and wreck on the northern point
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Panorama from the protected bay at Cubagua -- mountains of Margarita in the background
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Sunset at Cubagua
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Isla Tortuga
Playa Caldera
Concerned about light winds, the Terns left Cubagua at about 4 am. We gave them a sporting chance, and departed at 5:25, cruising the 75 miles to
Isla Tortuga in lovely conditions (for a trawler), waving as we passed them, and
arriving at a northern bay of Isla Tortuga called Playa Caldera in time to tuck
in and discover rolly conditions. Perfect chance to try out the
modifications to the flopper stopper system: new support lines and nylon
washers for sound dampening; but Arctic Tern would have no such
ameliorations. So as they arrived we suggested that we move on to a better
bay.
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There are fishing huts and a small airstrip at Caldera
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Cayo Herradura
Quiet Times
We found bliss at Cayo Herradura, a small horseshoe-shaped (hence the name)
island north of Tortuga. There were fishing boats in the protected
bay, and several semi-separate fishing camps. A couple of
foreign-flagged sailboats, a couple of Venezuelan motor yachts, and ourselves.
We went for a walk on the small island; here are some of the pictures:
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Approaching a fishing camp
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One of the camp shelters
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"Fish and Lobster" sign
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Huge parogue
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Each camp had its diminuative chapel
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Interior of the chapel
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Approaching the light house
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Peering into the lighthouse
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Vegetation growing in the sand near the lighthouse
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Fish remains and an opportunistic tennant
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Closer view of the occupant
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Smaller cousin
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"fisheye" view of Tusen Takk II
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Grave site
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Rocky shore on the north
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Devi and Hunter at the west-most small camp
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Panorama looking southwest
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Our boats and two local fishing boats
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Ville del Sol II
We stopped to chat with the folks on one of the Venezuelan
yachts, and discovered a Brit (Julien) and his Venezuelan wife (Rita) and their
two guests (Alberto and Marisol). The former live in Caracas, and the
latter two divide their time between Miami and Caracas. All speak
excellent English -- even the Brit. We had them over for drinks the next night, and on the
following night they had us over for dinner. Super people, with
extremely interesting tales to tell; discretion dictates that they not be
repeated here.
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Marisol and Devi
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Alberto and Hunter
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Rita and Julien (in a picture suffering from camera motion)
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Alberto serving delicious beef
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Villa de Sol as they left on Friday
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View from our Boats
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One of the Venezuelan fishing boats leaves the anchorage
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Several of the few "tourists" walk the beach
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Devi gets a haircut
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Locals from the camp asking for (and getting) sealants for a leaky boat
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Hunter rerouting a mast line -- which gives him an idea
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I am sent up the Tern's mast: unusual angle to photo TTII
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Looking straight down to my three accomplices
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Pan of the anchorage from atop the mast
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Sunset at the anchorage
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Devi relaxing on TTII's pulpit
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Fishing camp at dusk
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Looking north toward the lighthouse at dusk
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Dusk panorama
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Garbage Run
We made a dinghy run south to "mainland" Tortuga in order to reduce the amount
of trash on board. Strictly sorted through our garbage and took only
burnables. Gathered firewood to make a nice hot fire so that damp
paper towels, etc., would be thoroughly consumed by the flames.
Holiday Times
The folks on Ville de Sol warned us that the anchorage would soon be
crowded: Thursday was a holiday, the birthday of Simon
Bolivar. That meant that many power boats would be arriving to spend
the long "weekend" from Thursday to Sunday. They were correct, at
one point on Saturday we counted over 120 yachts and power boats in the
anchorage. We were impressed with everyone's behavior. Yes, there were teenagers that hotrodded a bit in their daddy's dinghies. A few boats played loud music. But the affair was really a family
vacation, including small children, and the music was appropriately muted as
bedtime approached.
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Folks asked to be photographed, and ...
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... so ...
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... I did!
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Only unoccupied sand was the narrow strip at the south end...
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... and even that was often visited
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Many tents on shore: too many people for onboard berths
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Sometimes the tents were more conveniently located
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Smaller boats w/o built-in generators brought along portables
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Thongs were very popular apparel
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"Rafting" was a congenial way of solving the space problem
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Panorama from shore on Friday -- TTII above swimmers head
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Another pan from shore on Friday -- not yet as crowded as it will get
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Closer look at some of the rears in the previous pan
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Pan from TTII at peak of crowding on Saturday
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Tubing at sunset
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Snorkeling
We took the dinghy around the south end of Herradura, and found a marvelous spot
to snorkel. We simply followed the edge of the reef as it swings first
eastward and then follows northward up the eastern shore. Dead elkhorn
coral reaching almost to the surface, falling off to deeper live coral beds that
themselves fall off to still deeper sand. The number of fish we saw was simply
amazing. Ever been in a snow shower with no wind? Surrounded by big
fluffy flakes? Sometimes it felt like that. Enormous loosely-packed
school of silversides swirling around me, so numerous as to obscure visibility
of anything else. And then, for hundreds and hundreds of yards, a long
tightly-packed school of a smaller species, hugging the edge of the reef,
oblivious to my presence, letting me enter their mass and experience the wonder
of their flashing blue. And then they turn, and suddenly they are all
silver and green. I exit the school, and look down, and for as far as I
can see the floor of the reef is crawling with slowly swimming juvenile grunts.
It stays that way for a hundred yards, and then suddenly I spy, just on the edge
where reef meets sand, a swirling eddy of long thin fish. It is a big
school, but they are not quickly moving along. Rather, they are circling
in a whirlpool. I dive into their middle and get a close look.
Later, back at the "fish book", I see that they were sennets. Another
first. We swam through and over armies of sergeant majors. Through
thousands of brown chromis. Past parrot fish of every description.
We went back three times, and every time were impressed with the number of
juvenile grunts, the swirling school of sennets, and the gazillion silversides.
On one of our expeditions, folks from the Simon Bolivar holiday were out with
spear guns, and having a lot of success in hunting large grunts and grouper.
Our best snorkel experience in the Caribbean to date.
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