Tag Archives: Leslie Rigney

Baja California & Mexico, Bryce's Posts, Educational, Eric's Posts, Leslie's Posts

Lost Two Anchors in Puerto Escondido, Mexico

Eric:

I’ve anchored cruising sailboats probably close to a thousand times. Although this time was unusual from the get go, but nothing glared at me with significant warning. Puerto Escondido was shown on both sets of electronic charts as a designated anchorage and the two older cruising guides described it as a place to visit, so I felt assured, although our trusted website guru Noonsite.com curiously was silent. Oddities began to present themselves. 1) the position dedicated as the anchorage was occupied by more than 50 pangas on individual mooring buoys. A local fisherman, fluent in English, approached us on his beautifully painted bright green panga advising us no mooring buoys were public. 2) the depths far exceeded the charts’ descriptions; 12 feet was now 80, and 15 was now 150. Thinking our depth sounder was on the fritz, I had Bryce drop a lead line to verify depth. “Line” is a nautical term used to describe loose rope on a boat, no matter the diameter. The sounder was accurate. 3) we were adjacent to one of Mexico’s primo surf sites, on purpose, and the current swell supported it. 4) with all the pangas on moorings and little room between them and the surf, we had to anchor outside their mooring grounds in 80 feet deep waters. Not our favorite circumstance. And, in addition to our bow anchor, we’d have to deploy our stern anchor to prevent us from swinging into the pangas since would have to let out so much chain due to the deepness of the anchorage.

The onshore breeze made anchoring that afternoon easy. We picked our spot, brought Kandu’sbow around, pointing her in the wind, then idled in reverse while in 85 feet of water, Bryce dropped our 65-pound Mantus anchor, the same anchor we faithfully deployed all around the world (an anchor few other long-distance cruising boats possess but wished they did, if only they knew how great it was). Bryce let out 150 feet of chain before we tested whether it would hold us. Most anchors need a chain to depth scope ratio of 3:1 to test, be we’ve found that the Mantus will grab at 2:1.

Mantus anchor

Once satisfied, we drifted back deploying a total of 240 feet of new high-tensile marine chain. Several types of marine chain exist, mostly all are steel galvanized with a zinc coating to protect it from prematurely rusting. Through our travels, we’ve learned that the French and Australians typically anchor with 3:1 scope, 4:1 in a blow. Americans, Brits, and Germans anchor 5:1 standard, and 7:1 in a blow. But at a depth of 85’ on a sharply rising seabed combined with the weight of 240’ of chain, we felt secure with 4:1. A rising sea bottom meant that the depth decreased dramatically, improving our ratio should we drift closer to shore, and such an angle advantaged us as well. As is our practice, Bryce attached our Mantus chain hook and nylon bridle, but with 240’ of chain deployed, we were a little too close to shore to let out all 30 feet of the bridle, deploying only half.

Our primary anchor is attached to all chain, 300’ in total. To prevent the chain pounding that can occur when a boat bow dips and rises, we attach a nylon rope to act as a shock absorber. It’s called a “snubber.” Wet nylon stretches more than dry, and the longer the nylon line the greater the stretch as well. We felt we had enough nylon in the water to give us the desired stretch. A bridle provides additional benefits in that two lines are attached, one from both sides of the bow, centering the pull forward off the bow, distributing the load, and adding security in the event one side should fray and give way, having the second to hold us still.

With our bow anchor secure, we set about the task of deploying the stern anchor, something seldom needed in most anchorages and therefore something we only seldom have done. We were not far from shore. Waves broke on the beige sand beach directly behind us, beach-goers Boogie boarding in the surf. To put out our stern anchor, Bryce and I inflated and lowered our dinghy, a task in and of itself, but one we are very accustomed to. With Leslie’s help too, the dinghy was launched in short order and our small, 3.3 hp outboard mounted to its transom. Seat and oars installed and with Kandu’s engine turned on, I boarded the dinghy, ready to receive and deploy our stern anchor. As agreed, Bryce monitored the outgoing line. “Leslie, reverse idle to port.”

Unlike the steel of our bow anchor, our stern anchor, a Fortress is made of aluminum. It’s the only anchor I know of made of such a light alloy, but that’s precisely the reason I like it as my stern anchor. I can easily “throw” it over board with minimal damage to the dinghy or myself. The proximity to shore and the greater than normal depth of the sea bottom made it impossible for us to first deploy the stern anchor from deck – a technic accomplished by traveling further forward to drop the bow anchor, and then pulling back in on the stern anchor line. Under our current circumstances, we needed to transport the 16-pound anchor and 50 feet of chain to the drop point, “toss” the anchor and chain in without damaging our dinghy, like pulling off an oar or puncturing something, and then have someone else on board Kandu take up the slack from the poop deck hoping it sets quickly. The make of our aluminum anchor, the Fortress, does this very well.

Fortress aluminum anchor

Over the next two days, we had to re-anchor the stern because the surf kept moving our anchor. Each time we brought up the anchor was challenging but we were able to pull up the stern anchor twice successfully. Finally, the third day it stuck. In that case, we anchored it much further away, almost at a 45-degree angle from the boat, directly in the surf.

Puerto Escondido surf right next to Kandu

The day before we were planning to leave this famous Mexican surf spot, a charter sailboat showed up, anchored for four hours, tried to pull up his anchor and couldn’t. He called two different scuba divers to free up his anchor and they both gave him the same reply, “No, I’m not going to do it, because it’s swallowed up by the sand and anything I do will be erased in a second by more falling sand. The only thing you can do is cut your anchor.” His anchor had mostly nylon hooked to little chain. I was hopeful that with our experience with the stern anchor and the fact that our fore anchor was all chain, we’d be successful.

Kandu anchored in Puerto Escondido, Mexico.

Bryce:

“Let’s go Trent” said Dad with determination. Initially, Dad and Trent paddled out in the dinghy to pull up the stern line and anchor while I was in charge of monitoring the line, the release and pulling the line/chain back in. Mom was monitoring the helm. “All good.” “Still good,” I yelled as I studied a fishing panga a little distance away to check the swell movements: whether the up and down movements were gradual or quick – the quicker movements indicated especially large incoming waves. “Still good,” I yelled every minute as I continued the pattern of letting the line out, and then pulling it in as some of the chain was released from the sand. “Outside set,” I yelled, and the two quickly abandoned their tugging in the surf and rowed to safety. This repeated at least five or six times when dad declared: “I’m exhausted, you need to take over with Trent.” As with Dad, Trent monitored the line and chain while I paddled out overtop the anchor which was directly in the break of crashing waters. I was worried about sinking and/or damaging the dinghy with too much pressure. When I grabbed ahold of the chain, due to the swell, I had to release or pull-in how much I had: swell decrease = slack, swell increase = the dinghy flying over top of the anchor, like when you spear a whale and it suddenly takes off. I placed my feet as if getting ready for a car crash to lock myself in. I was getting ready for a tug of war, holding on tightly letting the upward motion of the dinghy do the heavy lifting of the anchor. My position in the boat was far more secure than Trent’s because I was holding onto the anchor chain. Poor Trent was being thrashed around in the back of the dinghy like a malfunctioning carousel. Up, down, whipping all around. At one point, I only saw Trent’s legs hanging onto the back transom, and no Trent. Busy holding the chain I heard behind me: “Hey Bryce, I just fell in the water,” while lifting himself up pushing against the two ends of the dinghy. Trent’s torso and head had been completely doused. He looked quite disheveled. Both of us depleted, that was the last time we tried lifting the anchor with the dinghy. But still not giving up while rowing ashore, I decided that I would scope out the anchor with a mask and snorkel.

Bryce Rigney ready to swim ashore after boarding the waves at Playa Escondido.

Dad and I rowed back out with the dinghy bringing up the line and chain as we went in order to attach a buoy, a floating marker. That was needed in order for me to find the anchor once dad dropped the line. I jumped into the pitch black with snorkel and mask and waited for the stirred-up sand to dissipate. Plunging down into the water holding the lead line, my goal was to see if I could touch the anchor. Once I got past all the floating sand, due to the moonlight and bioluminescence I could see pretty far…like there were stars under water, Van Gogh’s starry night! At the bottom of the chain, I couldn’t see or feel the anchor at all and every time I tried to unbury the sand, I would have to go up for breath. Then returning back down via the lead line just 2 minutes later, my unburied work was gone. I was so frustrated. I felt like all my hard work was for nothing…and I couldn’t change the situation. Like building a big Lego spaceship, while bringing it to your parents to show it off, you trip and drop it.

We figured there was forty-eight feet of chain with two feet remaining. The new plan was to pull up the slack as much as possible and during overnight’s largest swell we had experienced up to that point, the tugging of the chain by the boat would eventually pull the anchor out of the sand. At half past midnight, we went to bed exhausted.

The next morning around 7:00 am, we’d hoped to see the aft line slack, but no, the aft line was tighter than ever. I jumped back down into the water to see, and what I discovered was definitely not inspiring. I told Dad and Trent floating nearby in the dinghy, “We’re so screwed! That anchor is buried even deeper than last night because of the crazy swell we had during the night.” Due to the unbelievable current switches, the chain was buried an extra foot and I couldn’t even unbury the hook holding the buoy marker. Instead, I untied the buoy, leaving the entire marker line behind. I swam back to the boat while Trent and Dad in the dinghy, lifted up the chain and unattached the shackle holding the nylon line to the chain. We ended-up leaving all the 50 feet of aft chain plus the anchor. This whole business took about 45 minutes. We really didn’t want to lose our anchor, but we needed to get busy pulling up the forward anchor in order to depart that day. Trent’s flight out of Zihuatenejo was booked…we had a deadline.

Kandu’s aft positioned toward the beach of Puerto Escondido.

Dad was still hopeful that we could bring up the forward anchor because ours was attached to chain, not nylon line. I remember dad saying: “We have to at least try to pull-up the anchor!” However, we had been anchored there for a week…not just four hours!! I wasn’t very hopeful.

Leslie:

After 4 hours of painstakingly raising chain inch by inch, Eric and Bryce working together the entire time in the hot sun, concluded that it was a lost cause. “In the last 4 hours we’ve brought up just 150 feet of chain and it is no longer coming up. The tension is just too intense. The continued pressure will damage the boat,” declared Eric. Regrettably, he pulled out the bolt cutters and hewed the chain in two. We lost 2 anchors, our stern Fortress anchor and our fabulous 65 lb Mantus anchor attached to 130 feet of expensive new chain, plus 12 hours of concerted effort. Darn, darn, darn. However, on the positive side, during our two-day motor to Ixtapa Marina pointing into the swell, we benefitted from a substantially lighter bow!

Bolt cutters posed to cut Kandu lose from the chain.

Fortunately, we have 3 more anchors aboard. In Ixtapa, just before departing for Cabo, Eric and Bryce hooked-up and situated our secondary bow anchor (now our primary anchor), a Plow anchor, in a matter of minutes to line and chain – not Eric’s preference, but good enough to get us home. It took 45 minutes for them to prep the adequate but much heavier aft Danforth anchor for the stern. We also have a 95 lb fisherman’s anchor stored in the bilge to use for massive storms, which fortunately we have never needed.

Danforth anchor on Kandu
Plow anchor on the bow of Kandu
Example of a very large Fisherman’s anchor
Leslie's Posts

Sail the Wind you Have, Not the Wind You Want!

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During our early travels in a moment of crisis, Eric made his way to the mast and had a moment with the powers that be. A message came to him in his mind:

“Sail the wind you have, not the wind you want!”

Very recently, Eric was talking with some close friends about this message. These friends are equestrian lovers – there is a similar idea related to riding horses:

“Ride the horse you’re on, not someone else’s.”

The message Eric received has been an important one aboard Kandu for all four of us. Crew RigneysKandu holds onto that idea along with two others: the Sea Bee motto, “We Kandu!” and the Boy Scout Motto, “Be Prepared!” along with a strong understanding that “Change is Constant.”

While recently helping my parents move from their home in Oakland, in conversation with an older gentleman, I recited Eric’s phrase “Sail the wind you have, not the wind you want,” and he immediately started to recite the following poem:

Tis the Set of the Sail: One Ship Sails East

But to every mind there openeth,
A way, and way, and away,
A high soul climbs the highway,
And the low soul gropes the low,
And in between on the misty flats,
The rest drift to and fro.

But to every man there openeth,
A high way and a low,
And every mind decideth,
The way his soul shall go.

One ship sails East,
And another West,
By the self-same winds that blow,
‘Tis the set of the sails
And not the gales,
That tells the way we go.

Like the winds of the sea
Are the waves of time,
As we journey along through life,
‘Tis the set of the soul,
That determines the goal,
And not the calm or the strife.

by Ella Wheeler Wilcox
A similar message rocks and rolls: “You can’t always get what you want, but if you try some time, you just might find, you get what you need.” –The Rolling Stones
Beyond the notions mentioned above, certainly many others exist that depict a similar concept, the same perspective.  “Sail the Wind you Have, Not the Wind you Want,” original in the manner in which it was learned, remains a powerful approach while the four of us Rigneys build our new lives in California.
Bryce Rigney enjoying an open ocean sunset aboard sv Kandu.
Baja California & Mexico, Educational, Eric's Posts

Southern Mexico’s Immigration Crisis by Eric Rigney

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I apologize in advance for my soap box moment. Hearing local perspectives is a benefit of travel.

Exploring Southern Mexico near the Guatemalan border, the southern gateway into North America, we hear from locals their current immigration concerns. Apparently agriculture in this region depends on Guatemalan illegal immigration for harvests and households depend on them as nannies, housekeepers, and more. Poorer Mexicans prefer the ease of welfare over the lower paying seasonal farm work or menial domestic care positions. Those Mexicans who do take jobs like these are characterized as less dependable, too often finding reasons why they can’t make it to work some days. Guatemalans in particular share similar values and traditions with the people of Chiapas. A trust bond and working relationship has developed over decades of this symbiotic practice.

Two Mexicans fishing in Puerto Chiapas channel

Over the past 2 years, the character of illegal immigration has apparently changed dramatically in Southern Mexico. Immigrants from Africa via Brazil and other South American countries, immigrants from northern South America, and Cubans have flooded the region. Mexicans don’t know the values and culture of these new illegal immigrants. Never before have they seen so many Africans and Maroons moving through or into their region, most, except for the Cubans and Venezuelans, don’t speak Spanish. But this is not what concerns them. What concerns Southern Mexicans are the “caravans,” waves of El Salvadorian and Honduran immigrants raised on gangland thievery and violence. They attack Mexican police and soldiers who block them from crossing the borders. International pressures caused the current Mexican administration to step aside their police & military and allow the caravans, 9 so far, to enter unevaluated. The dress, tattoos, and language of too many of these immigrants indicate gang members. Towns that had little to no crime are now seeing it. “Protection money” and other mafioso-type payment practices are growing. Hoodlums roam the streets at night, mugging, breaking-in, and stealing. Locals are baffled how their federal government can allow this easily identifiable criminal element to invade Mexico unfettered. When the first caravans came, locals stood by with offers of water and blankets for the families. Now when a caravan enters, locals lock their doors.
As we get closer to California, I’ve been reading more US & British news media. I don’t recall any pointing to the Southern Mexico experience, a warning call to all of North America, something so obvious to those who live on this important international frontier. It reminds me of the myopia that often afflicts nations’ news preferences. Not to belittle other illegal immigration concerns and programs in play, but even here, Southern Mexico offers advice to their powerful US neighbor: instead of spending billions on a mechanical barrier, develop and enforce greater procedures, like Germany today absorbing Syrian refugees (“Show me your papers.”), and really enforce those processes and laws, laws that may already exist within the US and/or may need to be established, and illegal immigration will drop dramatically. Simple principles of supply and demand they say. Crossing illegally into another country, a person only makes such sacrifices knowing they have the likelihood of getting a decent job. If employers, even individual households, were held accountable to the employment laws, illegal immigration into the US would practically die. But just as Southern Mexico depends on illegal Guatemalan immigrants, so does the US depend on illegal Mexican immigrants. Thus enforcement is not put in play. No wall will stop this dynamic, our Southern Mexican friends say. “Just listen to President Trump’s advice,” as they play a college commencement address YouTube video of the President encouraging graduates to overcome any and all obstacles in meeting their economic goals, even a concrete barrier. And if the US is not going to enforce employment laws, and if illegal immigrants are allowed to enter, know from Southern Mexico’s experience, recognizing a gang member is easy, and they don’t cross rivers or walk through the desert, they pass through check points.

Thought I’d share what I found to be a fascinating, for me, a less-heard, perspective from my new Mexican brothers and sisters. Having visited many wonderful countries these past two years, I’ve grown even fonder of my amazing neighbor. Mexican food? Don’t even get me started…

Tamales….mmmm good!
Hand-made Mexican corn tortillas…yum!
Baja California & Mexico, Leslie's Letters, Leslie's Posts

Leslie’s Letters: Old Haunts and New

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Bill Kohut Bonjour from Alsace. How timely and professional the Alsace posts are.

We are at the Hubert’s ghost house and will soon visit Colmar.

Bill and Annie

Chers Oncle Bill et Tante Annie,

You two are so busy running around Alsace, it’s amazing you had a moment to take time to read our Alsatian posts. However, I thought you two might enjoy them considering you’re in Alsace right now seeing all the lovely people we so happily visited last July! Our Alsace memories are still very clear and I am enjoying catching a few moments of your family fun there as displayed on your Facebook account.

The Hubert’s ghost isn’t bothering you, is it? hehe When we were there, I was quietly resting upstairs, stretched out on the modern Ikea bed, and I felt the sheet over me jostle abruptly. I strongly felt a presence and spoke out loud to it that I knew it was there and to go away. Unbeknownst to me, at nighttime, Bryce was in the upstairs bathroom video chatting with a friend, and the lights went out; the switch actually turned-off. Bryce got up and turned the light switch back on, then sat back down on the closed toilet. The light switch turned off again. To his friend Cory, he said “Hey dude, I think there’s an actual ghost here!” Bryce got up and turned the lights on a second time – this time they stayed on. After those two incidents, the subject of a ghost haunting the house was brought up to Brigitte – she confirmed that there have been many such incidents and that the house has a ghost. Neither Bryce nor I were aware of this history before the two incidents happened, so we weren’t inclined to fabricate weird tales. Thinking maybe it was all in my head, I didn’t think much of my incident until Bryce mentioned his. Funny business!

Hubert Family home in Merkviller-Peschelbraun

Presently, we are precariously anchored in Playa Escondido’s very deep fishing port which is located next to some of the best surf in the country, hence the reason why we’re here. The entire port is filled with a minimum 100 colorful fishing pangas attached to moorings or beached…this makes it very difficult for boats like 20-ton Kandu, which normally put out a safe 5 to 1 scope, to anchor without actually being caught in the active surf break and hitting the smaller boats on much shorter leashes.

Colorful fishing and tourist pangas of Puerto Escondido, Mexico

Anchored on the outside of the small port, our forward anchor is at a depth of 85 feet. These last two mornings we had to readjust our aft anchor to keep us pointing into the swell as that anchor is slowly slipping due to the sharp beach drop-off and the substantial current and wave action. Fortunately, our forward anchor is holding fine. Of course, we are not complaining, simply explaining. Such is a small price to pay for being in an active, very pretty place – a local’s hangout.

Restaurant umbrellas galore at Playa Escondido.

We much prefer this type of atmosphere for any length of time to a beautiful solitary bay. City people to the core, hearing blaring emergency vehicles at the wee hours of the morning doesn’t bother us. At seven in the morning, listening to happy voices enjoying the beach surf mixed with the raucous sounds of wild birds waking up, is an absolute pleasure.

Surfers and boogie boarders enjoying Playa Escondido’s wave action.

Bryce is headed-off for the day to the southern end of the long beach, two-mile walk, to catch the best surf at the point. Turns out there are numerous international surfers here, about 20 competing for the best waves. Yesterday, Bryce said he was the most advanced surfer except for one guy.

Bryce Rigney ready to swim back to Kandu after boarding the waves at Playa Escondido.

We are looking forward to having Trent with us starting Monday through the following Monday. Bryce has been pining for his best friend, so we decided to celebrate Easter all-together here in Puerto Escondido. Nice!

Kandu’s Yanmar engine has been running ever so faithfully. Eric and Bryce painstakingly polished all the diesel in the tanks before departing Chiapas Marina on the border of Mexico and Guatemala because while arriving there, the engine started to struggle due to dirty fuel. The fuel polisher you assembled for us in Raiatea functioned perfectly.

Kandu’s fuel polisher and transfer pump system

Thank goodness because we will be running the engine from here on out – all the way home preferably when there is no wind and ducking into bays when there is.

Uncle Bill…forever Kandu’s shipwright! We couldn’t have done it without you!

As you know, the prevailing wind and current is southerly – we’re bashing back to California. So far, so good though. Eric and a good friend of ours acting as our weather guru, have been studiously following the wind. Since departing Panama, we’ve mostly avoided contrary weather, making for generally smooth motoring. We want to avoid beating as much for our health as the health of the boat. Don’t need to be dealing with lengthy expensive repairs at the end of our adventure.

So glad you all are having a fabulous time together in picturesque Alsace…albeit you’re feeling a bit colder than when we were there last July!

Big hugs,

Leslie

Eric Rigney having fun in the surf of Playa Escondido, Mexico.
Leslie Rigney in her stride along the Beach Escondido, Mexico.

 

 

Educational, Eric's Posts, Leslie's Posts, Panama Canal

Panama Canal Quest – Part III, Kandu’s Rodeo

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Returning from our instructive two-day stint as volunteer line-handlers, we quickly went into preparation, not only for the canal transit, but also for our 4-day crossing to Costa Rica and beyond. Eric and Bryce rearranged exterior gear (extra anchors and outboard motor) to clear Kandu’s topside and provide easier access. They also obtained enough diesel to last through the Canal, into northern Costa Rica, and eventually southern Mexico.

Food preparation we learned was a very important aspect of the transit as it’s a requirement that we furnish quality hot meals to the two advisors and our professional line handlers (2 extra young hungry men), including sealed water-bottles (water from boat tanks could harbor unintended bacteria) plus the ‘quality’ meals needed to include meat, i.e.: breakfasts with eggs and sausage. Because I was also acting as a line handler (Remember: we were required to have 4 handlers plus the captain), I heavily provisioned and pre-cooked several dishes (as Captain Bill Broyle had done) before disembarking from Shelter Bay Marina.

Our rented lines and fenders arrived the day before our departure, giving us plenty of time to set them up. In fact, our passage through the locks would be rather prosaic having already motored through the locks on the same make of boat – Tayana V42’. And unlike our last experience, little wind was predicted to shove us around.

Transit day 1, fully prepared to leave the marina and start our adventure, at noon we welcomed aboard our two hired line handlers. Upon our request, we were thrilled to have Santiago Zorrilla join us. As instructed by our transit agent, we casted off our dock lines around 1:00 pm, left the marina, anchored in the bay off the yellow buoy, and notified the Port Authority of our readiness. They responded with our advisor’s expected arrival time.

Kandu greeting our first advisors on the Caribbean side of the Panama Canal.

Two hours later we received not one, but two, advisors: a trainer and his trainee. “Two for the price of one,” the senior advisor proclaimed with a kindly grin. Once aboard and introduced, we awaited permission to proceed. The advisors combed over their documentation, a list of all the ships transiting the canal that day. Over their walkie-talkie radios, they were told which commercial ship would be our ‘lock-buddy’ and at what time we needed to be at the first lock.

Captain Eric Rigney helms ready!

The advisors kindly asked us to weigh anchor and head quickly to the bridge, several miles away. Having done all this before, but with less wind interference and with two experienced professional line-handlers, a relaxed mood pervaded onboard. We knew the next challenge would be just past the bridge where we’d perform the ‘dance of the raft.’ 

It wasn’t until our anchors were up and we were in motion did we see who our rafting buddy-boats would be: two French catamarans. Would we be the center boat flanked by cats, or would we be on the end? Only time would tell. As we passed the bridge, approaching the first of three locks, with no pesky winds pushing us in strange directions, we were calmly instructed to raft up with the larger cat in the middle. First the little blue cat rafted to the port side of the large white cat. Their line-handlers were not as skilled as ours, and this took a bit of time. The fact that the little blue cat had tires instead of fenders indicated they were on a budget. But we had time. Being large and sturdy, the middle catamaran easily powered and steered the two, holding position as we gently came up to her starboard side and rafted.

Kandu rafted and ready for the Gatun Locks.

Once all were secured into a single raft, I heard the familiar voice of the same advisor that had so adeptly guided our raft with Captain Bill. Our circumstances couldn’t have been more superb. As he instructed the three captains, but mostly the center cat captain, the raft proceeded directly into the locks behind our commercial ‘lock-buddy’ ship. Messenger lines were cast, caught, and tied to our rented dock line bowlines without ado.

Lock line handler running the messenger line down the lock.

The canal workers walked along the lock chamber at our forward pace, holding the other end of the messenger lines. On the advisor’s signal, the lock workers pulled their messenger lines up and with them, our extra-long dock lines as our line-handlers eased them out. Once the bowline of the dock line was draped over the bollard, our line-handlers, one forward and one aft, quickly took in the slack and secured their respective lines. Our line handlers, Santiago and Juan, were in full control, so Bryce and I were able to take videos and pictures to capture the moment.

Lock line handler having secured our bowline around the canal bollard.
Santiago Zorrilla securing Kandu’s bow.
Bryce Rigney transiting the Panama Canal on sv Kandu.

As the water level in the chamber raised, Santiago and Juan compensated by tightening the loosing dock lines, keeping the raft in the middle of the lock. Captain Eric and our advisors hardly had anything to do!

This sequence repeated itself two more times before we exited the third and final of the Gatun locks.

Kandu and crew waiting fo their lock-buddy commercial ship in Pedro Miguel Lock.

Fortunately this time, we had plenty of daylight left to enjoy a bit of Lake Gatun as we motored to the over-night mooring buoy. Surrounded by lush greenery, Lake Gatun is a peaceful sanctuary for water-birds, howler monkeys and alligators (no swimming). Surprisingly, the passing ships make very little noise.

Boats wishing to transit the canal are required to maintain a minimum speed of 5 knots (6 mph). If not, the owner must make other arrangements to transport his/her yacht from one ocean to the other, usually by truck. But even at 6kts, we’re not able to transit the canal in one day. We’re required to moor to one of two mooring buoys specifically designed to hold two sailboats each. Two miles west of the last lock, the mooring buoys are large, made of PVC plastic, and very sturdy. Two to three people can jump onto one without concern of tipping. And the plastic surface makes it possible to tie up without scratching your boat. With fenders positioned amid ship to keep us off the buoy, the professional line-handlers run one rented line from the bow, through the mooring buoy’s extra-large shackle, and back to the center of the boat. A second line is run from the stern through the same shackle on the mooring buoy, and again to the boat’s center. If another boat is to share the mooring, a common occurrence, the line-handlers tie both bows and sterns together, one line each, so that bow and stern of both boats remain equidistant from each other through the night.

Bryce Rigney, Juan and Santiago securing Kandu to Gatun Lakes large overnight buoy.
Kandu moored in Gatun Lake, Panama.

The meals that I prepared in advance turned out perfectly and aplenty especially considering that we had two unforeseen ‘trainee’ advisors to feed. Yes, even on our second day transit, we had the good fortune to have another trainer-trainee set. I served chicken and vegetable curry with rice plus salad for dinner the first night, sausage and egg breakfast with pre-fried onion potatoes for the second day’s breakfast, grilled ham and cheese sandwiches with coleslaw for lunch, and spaghetti with a heavy meat and tomato sauce for the second night’s dinner, all accompanied with tons of salty snacks, cookies, candy bars and even soft drinks. Eric, Bryce and I felt spoiled ourselves with all the naughty eatin’!

The second day offered a little different scenario. Whereas the advisors of the previous day seem to be in sync and in accord, this day would prove otherwise. Unbeknownst to us, the day-two advisor now on the little blue cat had previously been suspended for issues related to his poor advisory skills. This was his first day back after a year. Once each boat had its respective advisor(s) on board, we untied from the mooring buoys and headed off, with great haste, to the first lock more than 25 nautical miles away. Independently but in casual line up, each boat made its way to the Pacific side of Lake Gatun. As we approached another large spanning bridge ahead of the next set of locks, it signaled again the staging area for rafting-up, but unlike last time, the little blue cat didn’t wait for the large white cat, and proceeded directly to the entrance of the first lock, Pedro Miguel. This was particularly odd behavior considering we were nearly 30 minutes ahead of schedule. Our ‘lock-buddy’ ship saw the little blue cat and proceeded to approach the lock, narrowing our gap.

The white cat and we sped up, but the inexperience of the line-handlers on both cats and the naughty advisor acting on his own, nearly crushed the blue cat’s stern into the wall, which delayed their ability to receive us. As we all approached too closely the steel barrier of the lock’s entrance, we were asked by the white cat’s line-handlers to turn around, go out, and come back when they were ready for us. Our advisor spoke via radio to the pilot on our commercial ‘lock-buddy’ ship to ask his/her intentions. The ship pilot said they’d have the tugs push the ship up against the wall to allow us all to exit, re-group, raft, and re-enter. Our advisor thanked the pilot and asked the other advisors to come out into wider waters. At the same time, our advisor asked Eric to motor full throttle away from the lock, past the ship before the thrust of the tugs pushed us into the wall. The advisor on the little blue cat then hailed our ‘lock-buddy’ ship’s pilot and said they were ready to go without us.

Our advisor was frustrated. Considering the erratic behavior of the rogue advisor, our advisor suggested we’d be safer waiting and taking two more hours to transit than if we were to raft with an unpredictable advisor. Eric and I agreed, and besides, the commercial ship’s pilot, having accepted the blue cat advisor’s explanation, had already proceeded to enter the lock, closing us off. Kandu would go through the locks without another sailboat rafted to its side. All four dock lines would now have to be monitored, not just relying on our pros. But having already gone through the process so many times, I was confident in my line-handling abilities and excited by the additional responsibility.

Waiting a couple of hours being tied to the wall, we took the opportunity to video chat with a high school French class at Trent’s school in Southern California. Bryce being of their age and fluent in French, we just handed the phone to him. Not every day does a classroom get to speak with a sailboat in the midst of transiting the Panama Canal, right? Anyway, chat time over, our new ‘lock-buddy’ ship approached and the lock handlers appeared with their messenger lines. It was game day for the crew of Kandu. Bryce caught my messenger line and handed it over to me. I tied my bowline to the messenger line like a professional (even more quickly than the professionals, I think – lol!) and then stayed alert as the lock handlers walked our four lines down the chamber in step with Kandu. When signaled by our advisor’s whistle, I sent our aft starboard polypropylene dock line back to the lock handler which he secured to a giant bollard, then I quickly pulled-in the loose line and cleated it down. Yippee, I did it! And furthermore, I repeated my efforts to great effect 2 more times!

Kandu with Bryce Rigney and Santiago Zorrilla secured in Pedro Miguel Lock.
Juan handling the aft port dock line as our enormous lock-buddy ship approached.
Kandu’s two Canal advisors recounting Panama Canal stories to Leslie Rigney.

Eric actually had a bit of excitement steering us straight in the last lock, which tends to be the hardest. The last lock was squirrely with current not because of wind but because our ‘lock-buddy’ ship, while short, was enormous top to bottom, and side to side. So wide, only two feet of water on either of her sides separated it from the lock’s 100-year-old concrete walls. She encumbered the entire lock in depth and width, so that when from behind us she moved forward like a hydraulic plunger, the water in the lock pushed forcefully forward spiriting us erratically and rapidly toward the closed lock doors straight ahead. Eric steered Kandu in full reverse adjusting for the current, and still we came a little too close. Just 20 feet before the doors, us line handlers halted our forward progress with masterful handling of the lines!!! Whoop, whoop!

Although we had hoped to complete our transit by 4 p.m. that day, the situation with the rogue advisor caused a delay that didn’t have us leaving the last lock until twilight, just as it had been with Captain Bill. Another long day for all of us. Leaving the lock, I served spaghetti dinner to the handlers and the advisors. Now in the Pacific again after having been away for 2 years, we motored near to the Balboa Yacht Club, about 3.5 nm, the rendez-vous spot to drop off our line-handlers and the rented equipment. Once in pick-up position, it was another 45 minutes before our advisors were also collected. Exhausted and hungry, Eric, Bryce and I,  happily alone again on Kandu, proceeded toward the Balboa Yacht Club waters to find a mooring buoy for the next two nights.

That evening, under a full moon, securely moored in the dark water of the Balboa Yacht Club…after we ate our spaghetti with meat sauce and I had my celebratory glass of wine, I went outside for a quiet moment to soak it all in…to reflect on all that we had accomplished since Gibraltar. Somehow, I had the distinct feeling that I had been there before. Well, in fact, I had been there on s/v Taopaowith Captain Bill. Our passage through the canal went so smoothly comparatively, that it felt anti-climactic. I was actually embarrassed with myself for feeling let down. Eric, Bryce and I had talked about and planned our transit through the Panama Canal ad nauseum for five months since arriving in Gibraltar. And WE FINALLY DID IT! We transited the Panama Canal bringing us back into the Pacific Ocean, but now it was done. Mission Accomplished. Fait accompli. Quest over. I felt so weird inside, as if I was missing something. As if I had been engaged in an opera as the lead where the rehearsals and performances were finished and my ‘opera’ family built over three months had split-up. However, fortunately for me, my family in this production was still intact; Eric, Bryce, myself and Kanduwere all still together…for a little bit longer.

Kandu moored at Balboa Yacht Club, Panama, looking back at the Bridge of the Americas..
On shore looking across the Balboa Yacht Club wharf as a container ship passes by.

Two days later, we set sail for northern Costa Rica.

By Leslie Dennis-Rigney with additions from Eric Rigney

 

Educational, Eric's Posts, Leslie's Posts, Panama Canal

Panama Canal Quest – Part II, Practice Run

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Four days before our own crossing, completely wide-eyed and excited for our educational trial-by-fire transit through the canals, Eric, Bryce and myself jumped aboard s/v Taopao around 12:30 in the afternoon for a two-day, one-night voyage through the Gatun and Pedro Miguel/Miraflores locks of the Panama Canal. Captain Bill Broyles was calm.

Captain Bill Broyles of s/v Taopao, Tayana V42′

He motored Taopao out of Shelter Bay Marina to anchor behind a large yellow buoy to await the advisor’s arrival along with the two other boats who would be traveling through the canal with us. Eventually, just before entering the two sets of three locks, we’d all raft tightly together, advancing and stopping as one unit inside the locks.

In addition to our family of three volunteer line-handlers, Captain Bill hired a professional line handler to complete the required quartet. Santiago was a master at handling the lines having done it 63 prior times. With a calm demeanor and twinkle in his eye, he helped the three of us fasten the rented fenders into the best positions and arrange in unencumbered 4-foot long coils, the four hefty 150-foot, 7/8” rented blue polypropylene dock lines which he purposefully left unattached, stoppered by a 4-foot long bowline at one end. My eyebrows raised in surprise seeing such a large loop not imagining its use. I tried to tie-off the loose ends of the coils to the boat, but Santiago gently stopped me (our communication was hampered by the fact that he spoke a little English and I speak even less Spanish) and signaled to leave it unfastened; that it would be okay. I shrugged and followed his lead.

Two hours after hailing the authorities that Taopao was in requisite anchored position outside Shelter Bay, waiting as the wind increased in force – that wind having already dislodged the anchor of one of our buddy-boats from the seafloor, the advisors finally boarded the three pre-arranged sailboats. Our agent immediately directed Captain Bill to weigh anchor and motor toward the Gatun locks following our commercial ‘lock-buddy’ ship, aided rapidly forward by 25-knot tailwinds. As we passed beneath the massively tall bridge under construction, the advisor alerted us to prepare for rafting.

We watched as the fiberglass cutter from Australia rafted its starboard side up along the port side of the steel ketch from Iceland, the longest of the three monohulls. Once secure, we gently pulled our port side to the starboard side of the steel ketch, without much ado even with the heavy downwind impetus. I attribute this success to the veteran line handlers and advisors who were alert and skillful. Now rafted tightly together, the lead advisor in the middle boat communicated orders to all three captains: “More thrust to starboard, reverse hard, neutral!” etc. Between the wind, current, and prop surge from the forward ship and two large tugs with whom we’d share the next three locks, it was quite the rodeo keeping the three squirrely mono-hulls moving carefully forward as one raft. Yet, steadily, we made our way behind our very large lock-buddy ship, buffered by the two large tugs. As our raft moved into the lock, four dock handlers holding coils of long brown jute-like messenger lines with a heavy ball called a ‘monkey’s fist’ attached to the end, got in position, signaling their readiness for us line handlers to catch and attach.

Center boat (steel) of our three-boat raft inside Gatun Lock with tug and ‘lock-buddy’ ship in front.

As the starboard most vessel, we would have to catch the lock lines and eventually secure the starboard side of the raft. Santiago and I were in the starboard aft position, Eric and Bryce starboard forward. The lock line handlers use a special technique for throwing their messenger lines. You can see the large targets and overhead rails they use for practice.  Frustratingly, our forward lock handler had to throw his messenger line three times before the monkey fist arrived close enough for Bryce and Eric to catch (hmm – that dock handler didn’t play enough baseball when he was young!). Knowing that the aft attachments are the most important in stopping the forward motion of the raft against the strong aft winds, Captain Bill and I were relieved Santiago had secured it as the raft approached closer and closer to the tugboats. However, a loose bow could spell trouble for our port side sailboat buddy. Catching the third attempt, Eric quickly tied the messenger line with a bowline to the head of the heavy-duty dock line as Bryce rapidly fed it out. In short order, the lock handlers on the wall hooked the large blue polypropylene loops around gigantic bollards high above us. Eric and Bryce, Santiago and I, wasting no time, pulled-up the slack and secured our lines thus stabilizing the starboard side of the raft. Whew! That first time was mentally taxing since the three of us, Eric, Bryce and myself didn’t know what to expect. Even though Bill had volunteered a few days before, this was his first time as captain . . . never stress-free.

Panama Canal Gatun Lock Steel Doors closing behind us.

Shortly after, the massive hollow steel doors closed behind us. The surrounding lock waters began to rise requiring constant adjustment tightening the lines until the lock chamber was full and our raft reached its level. This exercise repeated two more times until we exited the last of the three elevating locks entering into Gatun Lake and unhooked from the other two boats. Already twilight, we zoomed over to the large plastic mooring, where we’d spend the night. It was fully dark by the time our three boats were settled down on moorings in Lake Gatun, one of the largest man-made bodies of water. The advisors on all three boats were soon after collected by a pilot boat. I heated up the pre-cooked dinner, served the meal and performed the galley clean-up. Exhausted, we all headed straight to bed in order to be perky for the next day’s adventures scheduled some time after 7 a.m. We would be required to motor full speed for 3 hours through Lake Gatun to the Pedro Miguel/Miraflores locks, re-raft with the other two monohulls, and instead of being brought up into the lake, we would be lowered into the Pacific. The Miraflores locks were reported by other sailors as the most difficult due to a strong surge and a venturi wind effect whistling through the canals.

The next day, following our crew’s sunrise breakfast, I prepared the advisor’s requisite hot egg breakfast for our second-day advisor, a different person from the day before. After jumping from the bow of the pilot boat which had taxied him to us and some quick introductions, we were off and motoring at a decent clip of 6 knots. In the lock chambers, instead of being in front of our raft as was the case coming up into the lake, our ‘lock-buddy’ ship would enter behind us. When getting ready to raft this time, instead of the three of us tying up in the channel as we’d done before, it was decided by the advisors that the most port boat of our raft would attach first to the wall just outside the lock, then the steel boat to him, and then us to the steel boat. This put the port boat in an unfavorable position, with a great possibility of being pushed into the cement wall. The heavy winds at our back turned this into an erratic operation. The middle steel boat approached its port neighbor too fast and the bows almost touched before the aft rafting lines were exchanged and secured. It was nerve-wracking to witness. Our turn also brought us in hot, even though Captain Bill was motoring in reverse. We came together with the sterns almost hitting. I quickly positioned myself to push us off the steel boat and fortunately two other line handlers were alert and stepped in – disaster was averted. As the excitement was occurring, I heard a few expletives shrieked behind me by the mentally stretched Captain Bill. Whew! That was close! Poor Captain Bill was drenched in perspiration!

With our raft secured and ‘lock-buddy’ ship approaching, the port boat cast off its wall lines. After much shouting and orders given, we entered the empty lock: Pedro Miguel. Once lowered to the next lock level, we exited without incident. The lead advisor skillfully guided our raft a few short miles to the Miraflores locks, the final two. Without another hitch, all three boats survived the 30-hour transit experience unscathed. Whoopee! It was a success.

Captain Bill Broyles thrilled to exit the last Miraflores lock just before de-rafting.

Our volunteering adventure was not over. While we packed our day-bags and made sure not to leave anything behind, Bryce transferred our camera’s photo images to Captain Bill’s computer, a great souvenir for the gentle captain. Passing under the Bridge of the Americas in the dark, Eric, Bryce, and I along with Santiago, the 3 other line handlers from one of our partner boats, including all the rented dock lines and fenders from the two boats, were dispatched away by Balboa Yacht Club’s hired water taxi. The advisor remained on board, waiting for the pilot boat to fetch him. Once on the smaller wooden pedestrian dock and overpass, I soon realized I grabbed a bit too much gear along with my own backpack, not realizing how far I’d be carrying the load. Fortunately, most of my burdens were relieved by the other line handlers and I made it across the wharf and up to the top of the street without stumbling in the dim light. Once the rented gear was discharged behind a pick-up truck, Santiago directed us how to make our way back to Shelter Bay Marina by bus and taxi as per agreed with Captain Bill.

Getting home from the Balboa Yacht Club, having never done it before, was its own two-hour adventure. We eventually hailed a wonderful taxi to take us to the bus terminal. After a bit of a broken Spanish scramble in the terminal, we made our way to a local bus, leaving immediately for Colon. The driver motioned us aboard. With no empty seats, we exited the bus confused. However, while signaling us to re-enter, the driver handed us two cloth-covered buckets to serve as stools between the two rows of seats. Bryce sat on the floor.  With recorded Colombian salsa playing, we were off and running. An hour or so later, the bus dropped us three off at a stop where we could catch another taxi to Shelter Bay. We had been warned of the dangers of Colon, especially at night, especially for tourists, so we eagerly awaited the chance to hail a taxi. An older local woman, positioned herself ahead of us. Ten long minutes later, she hailed the first empty cab to pass by. She and the driver spoke, exchanging looks our way. She asked in English our destination and translated to the driver. She motioned us over to take this taxi, she’d catch the next one. We insisted she take it, as I guess she saw “target” written all over our faces. What a kind thing to do. After negotiating the price, we entered the almost working taxi, and were off…never mind that little of the car functioned. What was important was that the driver knew how to keep it running the 45 challenging minutes over windy, pot-holed, unlit, dirt roads. Feeling sorry for him, Eric paid him more than was agreed. We returned to Kandu tired but mentally prepared for our own future challenges.

Panama, Panama City, the Bridge of the Americas (Puente de las Americas) over the Panama Canal access channel on the Pacific Ocean side, the Miraflores Locks in the background (aerial view)

By Leslie Dennis-Rigney with additions from Eric Rigney

Educational, Eric's Posts, Leslie's Posts, Panama Canal

Panama Canal Quest – Part I, Arrival and Legend

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Arriving in Gibraltar marked the beginning of the back half of our circumnavigation. From Gibraltar on, in conversation with other cruisers, the first question was: “Are you planning on cruising the Caribbean or passing through the Panama Canal?” North or West? Our answer: West with the winds – we were to be carried along those critical westbound trade winds, funneling us across the Atlantic, pushing us over South America’s Northern coastline and brought furiously into battle with Colombia’s Caribbean winter storm-force winds. With a California-bound ETA of May 2019, wanting to arrive prior to the commencement of the Mexican hurricane season (May-Nov), the next prodigious hurtles on the map included crossing the Atlantic, getting past the Colombian coastline, and navigating through the Panama Canal.

OnTheWorldMap.com

Departing from Gibraltar on Sept 15th, we made the customary pre-Atlantic crossing landfalls: Morocco, and the Canary and Cape Verde Islands. We were on time leaving Gibraltar, but were held up in Morocco, waiting for engine parts and installing them. We left on Halloween. Our visit in the Canary Islands went without hitch, but in Cape Verde we were held up an additional week. Our US mail just missed the inter-island weekly flight. While in our marina slip, we celebrated Thanksgiving with Moroccan tagine and pumpkin pie. Once the mail was in our anxious hands, December 9thwe departed Mindelo, Cape Verde; the beginning of our third, and last, ocean crossing.

Eric Rigney holding our snail mail which finally arrived in Cape Verde!

The Atlantic crossing went very well. Sixteen days later, two days ahead of schedule, we arrived in French Guiana, traveling up the muddy river half a day before grabbing a mooring buoy in the currents of St. Laurent du Maroni. Although already behind schedule, we took time to visit a few sites most significantly the infamous prison headquarters or Transportation center where Papillon passed through.

However, we couldn’t dally too long in any one place. Our Caribbean cruising was minimal, remaining in the southern waters lightly exploring: Suriname, Tobago, Grenada, Bonaire, Curacao, and Colombia. Throughout our 1-2 week stays, as sailors exchanged itineraries which sailors often do, our pending Panama Canal transit invariably came up, and along with it their horror stories of other sailboats that had gone before; how boats nearly smashed against the cement walls, into other boats and/or the lock’s massive, 100-year-old steel doors.

After Curacao, the next beast facing us was the Colombian coastline, not pirates, but  . . . wind. Eric and I were concerned about the notorious winds of December-March aka Christmas winds that blow consistently 25-40 knots, often accompanied by a short, steep swell, tuned to swamp boats. An expert Caribbean cruiser and long-time charter captain, Glen Hurd of s/v Sundance who we met while cruising in Indonesia, spoke of them as being the worst conditions he had ever experienced in all his cruising days. To become better educated, I contacted my UCLA college friend Chris Landsea who now is chief of NOA’s marine branch (Tropical Analysis and Forecasting over the Tropical Atlantic, Caribbean Sea, Gulf of Mexico, and Tropical East Pacific). As long as I have known him, his interest circled around weather, especially hurricanes. He was the perfect manto calm our anxiety. Chris suggested that we access NOA weather forecasts at the below following websites, thus augmenting the information we generally gather from mobile weather aps: Windy, Predict Wind, and AYE tides.

https://www.nhc.noaa.gov/marine/forecast/enhanced_atlcfull.php  (Marine Composite page – winds, waves, features out through 3 days)

https://www.nhc.noaa.gov/marine/offshores.php  (Offshore Zone text forecasts – out through 5 days west of 55W)

https://www.nhc.noaa.gov/text/MIAHSFAT2.shtml (High Seas Forecast – warnings and locations of high seas/winds out through 2 days west of 35W)

Wind images in the Caribbean and specifically over Colombia

Before planning to leave any anchorage or port, Eric consults the weather. Our navigation plans are always centered around the weather. We have learned that a forecast is generally fairly accurate up to 3 or 4 days. After that, conditions can easily vary from predictions, that’s why it’s so important to travel during known periods of a region’s good weather. For example, when getting ready to travel into the Mediterranean, we had to forego visiting Thailand and Sri Lanka to insure we would arrive within the Gulf of Aden and the Red Sea’s safe seasonal weather window; February through mid-March.

It was definitely windy sailing across the top of Colombia and even when tied up in the marinas. We sailed into Colombia from Curacao with only our staysail flying. In Santa Marta Marina, boats share space between two docks, each tying one side of their boat to a pontoon. Kandu was docked on the leeward pontoon and a smaller, lighter boat occupied the windward pontoon. The marina’s pontoons are short and not supported by pilons, so they move around a lot. Two days later, in 35-40 knot gusting winds and marked swell, 20-ton Kandupopped one of her fenders and was going to get damaged rubbing up hard against and/or break the pontoon. Which, in fact, another boat did break a pontoon that night. We deployed all our fenders, including Big Bertha, our huge red one, and removed much of Kandu’s windage (canopy, tying our dinghy flatter, lifting horizontally the solar panels).

Kandu in Santa Marta Marina, Colombia, proudly displaying Big Bertha – our red fender!

Still, the wind continued to force Kandu firmly against the dock. We had little ability to tie and pull her windward side off the dock. With a bit of ingenuity, Eric unbolted an unused dock cleat from another slip and moved it onto the main dock, and then attached at a 45-degree angle another spring line from the center of the boat. Finally, with our combined strategies in effect, we managed to lessen the amount of strain Kandu placed against the pontoon and her hull side. With stories of Colombia’s Caribbean winter winds firmly validated, we again experienced their force once more tied to a dock, this time in Barranquilla’s Puerto Valero Marina. Attached to the leeward side of the leeward end-tie, the wind now blew Kandu away from the dock, so much so, our bow chock sheared. That same morning, with storm-force winds forecast over the next 10 days without break, we decided to take it on and head toward our next ‘bear in the woods.’ Adios Christmas Winds, hola Canal! Although initially hesitant to leave the marina, once under way, Kandu handled well the 25-30 knot winds with its following swell. Remember, Kandu has a canoe stern, so steep seas wrap unfettered around her backside, unlike flat, open, and sugar-scoop sterns which can get pushed around, or at times, flooded.

The Atlantic crossing and the Colombian Christmas winds behind us, transiting the Panama Canal was now forefront on our minds. Most landing decisions, once made, require some form of preparation and research into requirements and procedures. Coming to transit the canal, first on the list was reserving a slip in the closest and safest Caribbean-side marina, Shelter Bay, and then handling the usual processing through customs and immigration.

Chart plotter image of Kandu on the Caribbean side of the the Panama Canal with AIS boat signatures.

Complications to transit the canal included: selecting and contacting a canal agent, learning how to work with canal advisors who would guide us through the canal passage, obtaining line handlers (volunteer vs. professional), and understanding the various transit charges and costs.

Once we docked in Shelter Bay Marina, Eric met with our agent and obtained our crossing date. To remove some of the mystery, we decided we’d volunteer as line handlers aboard another sailboat. Fortuitously, we found a single-hander Bill Broyles with a boat model similar to ours, a Tayana V42, aft cockpit, named SV Taopao. Even before volunteering as line-handlers, we thought it would be helpful to see the locks up close and learn something about the history and engineering behind this world marvel. So, we took the hour and half bus ride into Panama City and paid a visit to the Miraflores Locks Visitor Center, and also happened to see the adjacent IMAX movie theater Panama story that played a specially created and beautifully executed IMAX movie chronicling its history.

The visitor center is an excellent cutting-edge museum of the Panama Canal’s records starting from the late 1800’s. The exhibit also included material about the newest adjacent locks constructed between 2006 and 2017 built to accommodate the present-day ever larger container ships. I loved how the museum walked me through challenges and frustrations of the early French trials spearheaded by the charismatic diplomat Ferdinand de Lesseps who had led the successful building of the Suez Canal. Shockingly, upwards of 21,000 workers died during those first tumultuous years mostly from yellow fever and malaria. Feverishly scientists worked on figuring out the cause of the deaths. At one point, doctors thought the diseases were spread by ants. Tuna cans were then placed under each bedpost filled with water, which deterred the ants but also provided mosquitos the perfect place to breed…right in the hospitals.

The French government, almost bankrupted in 1889 due to the heavy outlays incurred financing the construction of the canal, was defeated by the challenge and the construction company sold its contract to the American Federal Government; the US financial arrangement was spearheaded by President Theodore Roosevelt in 1903. At the time, Panama was part of Colombia. Colombian leaders refused to support the new arrangement. Americans in their fashion, negotiated with some Panamanian revolutionaries to declare independence from Colombia promising to support them with a navy warship. Colombia sent their own troops, but with the Americans already in position backing the revolutionaries and other smartly played moves by the revolutionaries, Panamanian independence was affirmed with minimal casualties on November 3, 1903.

President Theodore Roosevelt gettin’ it done!

The Americans, with a West Indies labor force, started work on site in 1904. The canal was completed with little fanfare on August 15th, 1914, just after World War II commenced. It cost the United States a total of US$352 million and an additional 5,600 deaths to build today’s 24-hour a day operating canal. Quite the dramatic beginning to mark one of today’s ‘Wonders of the World,’ still considered one of the most extraordinary feats of engineering of all time!

Gatun Locks of Panama Canal from Caribbean into Gatun Lake.

By Leslie Dennis-Rigney with additions from Eric Rigney

Eric's Posts, Europe, Experiential, India, Leslie's Posts, Morocco, South America

Rigney Family 2018 in Review

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In 2018 aboard Kandu, we achieved our most extensive traveling since departing Ventura, February 2015. Starting in Malaysia, after the overhaul of our engine and other repairs/upgrades, we sailed Kandu west to India. With Cochin as our base, we enjoyed three weeks of splendid adventures and discoveries, traveling north and south by tuk-tuk, taxi, houseboat, train, and airplane.

India’s TuckTuck mania!
Holy Cow!
Bryce Rigney at Kerala’s Backwaters

Being late in season for a westward Arabian Sea passage, we were eager to be on our way. Heavily provisioned, water tanks filled, and diesel topped-up including additional 10 deck-tied Gerry jugs, we left feeling fully prepared for our 20-day High-Risk Area (Pirate Zone) passage.

Kandu ready to go loaded with 10X20 gallon jerry jugs

The western Indian Ocean and Arabian Sea gave way to the Gulf of Aden with Yemen in civil war to the north, infamous Somalia to the south. All went well, bringing us unscathed to the port of Massawa, Eritrea. Of the 28 boats that transited the Red Sea, only 8 stopped in Eritrea. Few, if any, explored its awkward interior. We took a public bus up into the highlands to the capital Asmara. Shown the sites by a wonderful local friend, nephew of LA friends, it was quite the learning curve, a city with little operational infrastructure.

Continuing up the Red Sea, two days later we stopped in Suakin, Sudan, poked around the Suakin ruins and nearby village, picked-up Uncle Nick, and sailed North to Egypt, stopping briefly at Sanganeb Reef (UNESCO site), its crystal-clear waters perfect for snorkeling.

Onward north, we motor-sailed several days to Port Ghalib, Egypt. We spent 3 weeks total in Egypt, initially diving the nearby Red Sea reefs and then driving inland to visit the ancient sites of Luxor. From Port Suez, we ventured inland to Cairo and the Pyramids of Giza. Yes, we did the most touristic things, like riding camels below the pyramids dressed in traditional Egyptian garb.

Dendarra
Luxor Temple
Luxor Temple Sphynx row
Luxor Temple Interior
Luxor Temple Interior
Feluccas of the Nile, Luxor Temple in background
Valley of the Kings
Luxor camel ride
Temple of Hatshepsut
Hatshepsut Temple with Eric Rigney
Valley of the Queens
Entryway to Temple of Karnak
Temple of Karnak
Temple of Karnak
Temple of Karnak
Egyptian Museum in Cairo: Akhenaton – King Tut’s father
Gold sarcophagus
King Tut’s Golden Mask
Eric and Nick Rigney, Sphynx wannabes
Leslie Rigney kissing the Sphynx?
Eric Rigney at the Giza Pyramids
RigneysKandu at Giza Pyramids
Look out tourist Bryce!!!
RigneysKandu say “Farewell Egypt!”

With slower moving recreational vessels like ours, Suez Canal is transited in two days. Each day, we hosted a different requisite pilot, stopping overnight in a “lake” at a yacht club in Ismailia. Around the world, yacht clubs are mostly just private ocean-view restaurants with little to no support for transiting yachts. We dropped one pilot off in the evening, picked up the other at sunrise. Transiting the Suez Canal was a thrill, passing large ships within a stone’s throw. The second pilot was dropped off onto a moving pilot vessel so we could continue without delay into the Mediterranean Sea.

Kandu pulling into Lake Ismailia while motoring the Suez Canal

Next stop, 2 days away: Cyprus. After a year in various Islamic countries, it was a welcome relief to land in a Western-style country, especially one so steeped in history and philosophy. There, we said goodbye to Uncle Nick, welcomed friends from Washington. Together, from their rented hilltop villa, we spent 6 days exploring the historical sites of Cyprus – including the Turkish occupied north. Then flew to Israel, drove to Jerusalem (the day after our US Embassy opened), the Dead Sea and Palestine to Bethlehem, and flew back to Cyprus.

RigneysKandu floating in Dead Sea of Israel

From a small fishing port in western Cyprus, it was a quick sail to Rhodes, Greece. The Schengen Visa clock was now ticking.  90-days to see Europe, including their Atlantic Islands, not nearly enough time, but we made the best of it. From medieval Rhodes, we sailed to romantic Santorini.

Santorini Island, Greece

Then to Athens, ground zero of Western philosophy. So rich in history, legends, and lore, like Jerusalem, seemingly every corner beheld another historic treasure. There, Uncle Bill joined us, and Bryce jumped ship to spend more time in Athens with a newfound friend, Alex. Kandu sailed west through the Corinthian Canal to Delphi sans Bryce for the first time in three and half years.

Kandu passing through the Corinthian Canal with Uncle Bill

From Greece, we sailed five days across the Ionian Sea to Italy, arriving near Napoli and Pompeii where Bryce re-joined Kandu, having spent a week and half with his buddy. Seeing Pompeii (prominent site on my bucket list) was just the beginning of a GREAT tour of Italy which would come to include beautiful places like: Cinqueterra, Rome, Vatican City, Pisa, Florence, and Venice. Just WOW! Even with all Eric’s and my previous travels and university studies, we never fully appreciated the extent to which over the centuries Italy had accumulated (pilfered?) the world’s artistic and symbolic wealth.

Saint Peter’s Cathedral, Vatican, Rome

From Northern Italy, it was a few short days to Nice, France and La Cote d’Azur. Here, we bid farewell to Uncle Bill (87 yrs young), crew and traveling companion over 5 jammed-packed weeks, visiting three countries together. Marina Nice is centrally located, making all the fun stuff available by foot. The boys, hanging at the beach and playing beach volleyball pick-up games with locals, serendipitously connected with a school mate from the Marquesas! Small world.

Kandu Crew playing Volleyball in the Cote d’Azur!

We caught up with many dear French friends while in Nice before sailing across to the other side of Southern France to Port Corbière, Marseilles. Safely tucked away, we securely berthed Kanduand drove 9 hours up to Paris to pick up my parents at the airport. We would spend the next 5 weeks together, driving to various countries, spending valuable time with more dear friends. So, directly from Charles de Gaulle Airport, with parents’ bags firmly packed in the trunk of our rented van, we were off to dine and stay with friends in Southern Belgium.

While in Belgium, we were hosted by two families, each with two teenage daughters, together enjoying meals of moules-frites, steak frites, and frite- frites; and outings of the must-see sights, including the Grand Place, Atomium, site of the 1950 Brussels World’s Fair, Brugge, Waterloo (Napoleon Museum) and Bastogne (Battle of the Bulge Museum).

Atomium, Brussels with Lara and Elena Demande
Grand Place, Brussels, Belgium
Ron and Rosie Dennis, Odette et Pierrot Robert chez Thierry Robert

Bidding sad farewells, we set off to Eastern France, via Luxembourg. A bowl of traditional green bean soup and a long stroll around this beautiful city was all the time we could spare before continuing our second, long toll-highway trek, this time to Alsace.

Through the generosity of several family friends, all of whom are connected with Eric’s Alsatian Aunt Annie, we spent 8 fabulous days filled to the brim with Alsatian splendor: food, wine, beer, history, crafts, architecture, etc. As an added bonus, we witnessed France’s 2018 World Cup championship victory with friends in Surbourg and marched through the streets with celebrating fans, demonstrating their “bleu-blanc-rouge” pride! From Alsace, we made an afternoon sojourn into Germany, sipping the gorgeous resort town of Baden-Baden, exploring its castle ruin and a popular beer garden – Wundabar!

Brigitte, Harold and Joris Keizer at Biergarten, Baden Baden, Germany

Strasbourg, Colmar, the wine tour, ceramics, country festivals, a WWII concentration camp, and meals galore with great friends had us on our way with greater awareness and appreciation, warm hearts, and kilos added to our waistlines via tartes flambées, baeckeoffe casserole, and sauerkraut & sausages.

Colmar, Alsace, France with Brigitte Hubert, Myriam Rott and Ron & Rosie Dennis

From Alsace, we headed west to Paris again, but this time to show Bryce and Trent. Again, through the generosity of another good friend opening her home, we stayed at her place just outside Paris.  From there, we drove daily to the nearest metro station to pick up the train into town. We toured many (too many for Bryce and Trent’s taste, but this is their classroom) of the celebrated museums and sites of one of our favorite cities. It’s where Eric proposed to me 25-yrs prior! Eric even drove the boys to the exact spot, at sunrise, just as he had done for me.

Place de Paix at Trocodero, Paris

For their last Parisian evening, Eric and the boys walked from the Arc de Triomphe to a cinema on the Champs-Elysées where they watched the opening night of the latest Tom Cruise MissionImpossible installment. Watching the chase scenes through Paris was surreal as they’d been walking on those very streets less than an hour before. As exhausting as this is to read, it was even more so to live.

Eric, Trent and Bryce Rigney on the Champs-Elysees, Paris, France.

Paris behind us, we headed south through gorgeous countryside to Voiron where we met up with friends with teenage boys. After days of seemingly endless museums, Bryce and Trent jumped on the opportunity to just hang with guys their age, all so handsome, smart, and adventurous. Giving in to pleas to extend their stay, and a promise from the Dad to drop the boys off at Kandu in three days, the four of us left the boys with their new-found friends and headed south sans enfants.

Kandu Crew taking out Serge, Max and Valentin for a ride at Port Corbiere, Marseille.

Not yet done with being spoiled by French friends, we left Voiron for the Southern French coastal town of Meze where we stayed with a couple we’d met in French Polynesia years ago. From their home, we attended a fishing celebration in Meze.

We spent a day at the nearby Medieval town of Arles, an important city in the life of Van Gogh. As with our friends before them, the two nights we spent together felt like a royal affair. After yet another heavy-hearted farewell, we drove east, back to Port de Corbières to meet up with the boys, to explore Marseilles before returning the van, and to prepare Kandu for the sail back to Nice, where Trent had a rendez-vous with an airplane.

In Nice once again, we boarded a commuter train to Monaco…a bucket list destination for my father! Wearing our best “boat clothes” and scrounged up bow ties, we entered the Monte Carlo Casino in style, not “Bond, . . . James Bond” style, but style nevertheless, and basked in the luxury. Castles, cathedrals, and a Formula 1 race track made this a fun, albeit Trent’s last, country visit. By the time he left us, he’d visited 27 since our California February 2015 departure.

Monte Carlo in Monaco with Rosie and Ron Dennis

A bit melancholy, the 7 of us said goodbye to an extremely cheerful (perhaps too cheerful) Trent as he boarded a Norwegian airline plane in Nice, laying-over in Oslo, arriving in Los Angeles to start high school as a freshman. His new home is with his Uncle Nick and Aunt Gita in Calabasas, California. With an abundance of electricity, hot showers, WiFi, Netflix, Mexican hot sauce, and kids his age, Trent is happy.

Nani and Papa still with us, Kanducasted off Nice and motor-sailed 2 days to Barcelona, Spain. Soon after departure, we experienced our first and only crazy Mediterranean wind, quickly rising from 15 to 50 knots of wind with short steep seas and horizontal rain – Mr. Toad’s Wild Ride for one intense hour! My parents didn’t quite know what to think because the captain, Bryce, and I acted as if nothing was unusual.

Our days in Barcelona were exquisite, filled with flamenco music and dancing, delicious Catalan foods, and Gaudi architecture, most notably the Sagrada Familia! Here, after 6 weeks of intense traveling through 6 countries, we bid a tearful farewell to my parents, who flew back to California with an abundance of electricity, hot showers, WiFi, inexpensive wine, and friends their age!

Interior Sagrada Familia, Barcelona, Spain

 In Barcelona, we stocked Kandu for a 5-day passage, checked out of Schengen, and motor-sailed across the Eastern Mediterranean to Gibraltar. The next day, Bryce flew solo to London, England for 6 days to meet with Alex, his friend from Greece. Eric and I enacted repairs on Kandu held off during our Schengen rush through Europe. We squeezed in a bit of fun too, touring the sites. Eric discovered a broken bolt supporting the alternator and engine’s freshwater pump. This kept us in Gibraltar longer than anticipated. Once appropriate bolts were acquired, we carefully timed our Mediterranean Sea exit with winds and currents and cast off the dock lines for the Strait of Gibraltar. All went well. For our first Atlantic Ocean stop, we chose Port Mohammedia, Morocco – a fishing port near Casablanca, to which we took a train, and from where we toured, inside and out, the world’s largest mosque outside of Saudi Arabia, Hassan II.

Magnificent Interior Hassan II Mosque

Sailing further south along the West African Coast, we made our way to Marina Agadir. With the engine’s freshwater pump leaking internally, Kandu ended-up docked in Agadir for almost 5 weeks (a month longer than planned), waiting for the new pump to arrive and clear customs. However, we met lovely people and traveled to various nearby cities, fully immersing in the culture and exploring the environs: Essaouira and Paradise Valley by renting a car, and later to Marrakesh by bus, plus Bryce got a chance to surf to his heart’s content at several renowned surf sites, including Taghazout. Souks, tajine, couscous, and avocado-date shakes we enjoyed a-plenty.

Departing Agadir, ‘We Kandu’ sailed deeper into the Atlantic to the exquisitely beautiful resort island of Lanzarote in the Canary Islands. Volcanic craters and surf are among this island’s treasures. We flew to Las Palmas for boat parts and a tour of the Columbus museum.

Volcanic wine vineyards of Lanzarote, Canary Islands

From Puerto Calero, Lanzarote, we sailed southwest to Marina Mindelo, Sao Vicente, Cape Verde. Porto Grande is Cape Verde’s largest and most protected natural bay.

Sailing Kandu 10 days to Mindelo, Sao Vicente Island, Cape Verde

We arrived just prior to the send-off of 3 world class cruising rallies, organized to help amateur sailors cross the Atlantic, all of which terminate in the Caribbean. It was great fun to be amongst the bevy of so many serious sailors preparing to make an ocean crossing! Thanksgiving, we received spare parts Uncle Bill mailed us, and got stuck an extra week, waiting for replacement bank cards to arrive from Cape Verde’s capital city. Ate lots of cachupa (local breakfast dish) in the meantime. On Dec. 5, we departed Mindelo for what would be our third and final ocean crossing.

Sixteen rock’n’rolling days later, we’ve made it to French Guiana.

Saint Laurent du Maroni Marina, French Guiana.

Whew! We’ll spend Xmas in the country’s second largest city, Saint Laurent du Maroni, then head to Suriname (Dutch) to tour the sites, maybe spy some freshwater pink dolphins, and spend New Year’s. We’ll pass through Guyana (English) before sailing north into the Caribbean, stopping at Tobago/Trinidad (more parts). From there: Grenada, Bonaire, and Curacao. Then entering South America one more time in Columbia, fromwhere we’ll arrange a canal agent to deal with the formalities of transiting the Panama Canal in late February or early March 2019. The only other Central American stop will be Costa Rica. We’ll skip the rest of Central America, sailing directly to Southern Mexico. There are just too many security concerns with coastal pirates and within Nicaragua, Honduras, El Salvador, and Guatemala. Obviously, from Southern Mexico, we’ll continue our northly trek. Puerto Vallarta is where we’ll cross our circumnavigation track. Then it’s a few short weeks, early May, before we clear-in at San Diego, California.

2018 marks our trip’s most prolific year in terms of countries visited (23), oceans and seas crossed (2/6+), and continents touched (4). With about nine more countries, a canal, and a few more seas to cross, we return eager for life’s next adventures. We want to thank you, our friends and family, for following along on our journey, and to so many of you whom we met along the way. Until we meet up again, we send you our biggest virtual hugs and wish those who are sailing, fair winds and weather!

Love Leslie, Eric, Bryce and Trent

REMINDERS

To see where we are on a map in real-time, scroll down on our home page and click on the Delorme link.

We continue to post updates and photos of our travels on our Facebook sites: RigneysKandu, Eric Rigney, Leslie Dennis-Rigney and Bryce Rigney. Bryce and Trent post their favorite photos on Instagram under: Bry.Rig and Tnert_Rigney. If you mostly prefer short video clips, visit us on Youtube.com. Our channels are RigneysKandu and Kandu Crew.

Europe, Guest's Notes, Leslie's Posts

Rosie’s Adventures in Belgium, July 2018

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Monday, April 9th

Flying into Paris on Norwegian Air, we were met with excitement and love by our dear RigneysKandu family: Leslie, Eric, Bryce and Trent, who had rented a large SUV to hold us all and our luggage as we began our five-week inland tour of Europe. Late that evening after driving for 4 hours, we arrived in Belgium at beloved friends, the Demande’s. It was still daylight outside even though it was 10 PM. Welcome hugs and welcome beds….just what we needed after a day and a half of travel.

Petit déjeuner Chez Famille Demande

Elena, Lara and Mom Sian allowed us travelers to sleep in while they quietly snuck out to find traditional European breakfast yummies: almond croissants, pain au chocolat, and a variety of fruit all served with orange juice and coffee. Hurray, after long awaited planning, we were in Europe. We were saddened that Michel wasn’t present for the two days of our stay as he was off working, yet we were able to connect with him via facetime to catch-up.

Our first excursion and possibly most important was to a nearby Corné Port Royale chocolate factory warehouse.

Corne Port-Royal Chocolatier

We were allowed to sample any amount of tasty morsels we wanted! Imagine, 9 of us moving through the layers of samples….digesting incredible amounts of scrumptious calories. Next, we drove into Brussels to explore the “Grand Place,” the central square and community plaza of Brussels surrounded by 16thC 7-story buildings including private homes, opulent guildhalls, the city’s Town Hall, and the “King’s House” which today is the Museum of the City of Brussels.

Grand Place, Brussels

With the exception of Bryce and Trent, we had been to this landmark before, but I hadn’t remembered that the fronts of the buildings were so heavily decorated with gold leaf. Impressive! It is considered one of the most beautiful squares in Europe, declared a UNESCO World Heritage Site in 1998. It is truly a festive sight to see, with a cobble stoned open plaza chock full of meandering spectators and a myriad of restaurants with seating areas spilling out onto the square.

Grand Place Restaurant

Nearby, we made sure not to miss Mannequin piss! With the World Cup in full swing, the little Mannequin piss was attired in Belgian team colors – red and yellow. Groups of young people were also attired in Belgian colors shouting cheers for their team, which would be playing France the next day.

Mannequin piss, Brussels

Sian drove Ron and me back home to rest, while Leslie, Eric and the teens went to see the shiny stainless steel Atomium that was constructed for the 1958 World’s Fair. That evening Sian treated us to a delectable Salmon Dinner. Ron and I felt spoiled and overflowing in familial love!

Atomium, Brussels

Wednesday, in two cars, we drove into Brugge for a walk around the gorgeous old medieval city topped off by taking a pleasurable, quiet boat ride through the channels. The charm of the old, yet well-maintained Danish looking buildings flavored the day. Along the channel were modern art installations: a twisting tower built entirely of old metal chairs and an enormous blue and white whale crafted out of plastics captured from the ocean – a reminder to all that improperly discarded plastics end up eventually in our oceans. Everywhere, the walkways and homes sparkled with cleanliness and order.

Center Plaza Brugge
Brugge canal view
Water captured trash Whale
Bryce Rigney, Lara Demande, Elena Demande, Trent Rigney in Brugge, Belgium
RigneysKandu in Brugge, Belgium with Ron and Rosie Dennis and Sian, Lara and Elena Demande.
Metal Chair Art installation

While the Demandes were cooking up an awesome eggplant casserole, Bryce was outside bouncing flips on their trampoline. On jump number 8, he landed wrong slicing open his shin bone badly enough that it was decided he needed medical attention…and since the French/Belgium soccer game was on, the emergency doctor didn’t address his gaping wound until the game was over (Leslie, Sian and Bryce sat in the waiting room forever). Yup, stitches and no swimming for 10 days…Belgium, unfortunately lost the game.

July 12

After early coffee and rolls with Lara, Sian and Elena, our family packed up, said farewell and headed for Huy. On the way at nearby Waterloo, we entered the Waterloo Napoleon Museum for a comprehensive display and history of Napoleon’s war efforts. A 3-D movie experience made it clear how brutal the Waterloo battle was. Adorned uniforms and horses of Napoleon’s high ranked officers brought to mind the large ego of the infamous leader. All along a glassed-in corridor we saw displays of clothing, equipment, banners, etc. of all the armies involved.

Napoleon Museum at Waterloo

Outside was a monument in the shape of a hillside which had many many steps to arrive at the top. We were all very interested to witness the surrounding areas of battle, which were clearly shown on brass plates for a panoramic 360-degree view.

Ron and Rosie Dennis climbing the Waterloo monument, Belgium

All of us left with a higher interest in and understanding of the Napoleonic wars and his influence on European life during and after his political involvement. Did you know that in order to feed his armies, Napoleon was instrumental in the development of canned food? And did you know Napoleon pushed to establish the metric system as the standard? One of Napoleon’s aims was to unify Europe, to create a ‘European Union’ back in the early 1800’s. Ahead of his time. His downfall was invading Russia, the BIG beast. That was Hitler’s downfall as well!

Getting closer to Huy (a small town with its own fort – proximate to Liege), the Robert family met us at a lovely regional restaurant that specialized in serving Belgium mussels. All of us ate plenty of them along with fries and fine wine. MMMMMmmm good – love the varied tastes of Europe! Later we visited on the back patio of Thierry’s home along with his darling parents and two teenage daughters.

Ron Dennis, Pierrot Robert, Leslie Rigney, Odette Robert, Eric Rigney, Thierry Robert and Rosie Dennis chez Famille Robert

Much more wine, many stories, and memories were exchanged. Leslie and Eric overnighted with Odette and Pierrot, we stayed with Thierry and his girls. It was delightful getting to know Thierry’s lovely daughters even though the language barrier was a little prohibitive.

July 13

Leisurely we formed our group to head off to the town of Bastogne and into the Bastogne World War II Museum, which described in full detail along with modern audio commentary the history of the area and the Battle of the Bulge also known as the Ardennes Counteroffensive, which was the bloodiest American battle of the European campaign. Fought in the final days of the war as a last-ditch effort by the Germans to regain an overland travel route to the Atlantic, the 101stAirborne Americans holding Bastogne were saved by Patton, his tanks and his men’s valiant efforts to break through the lines to deliver supplies because the weather was so monstrous that air support was impossible. It was a large, impressive and modernly organized collection of photos and materials describing all stages of the battle including how neighboring towns were decimated by retaliatory actions by the Germans as they fled.

Adjacent to the museum stands an impressive memorial structure, the Mardasson Monument, a three-story building in the shape of a star upon which visitors can climb to the top in order to see better the terrain where so many Americans died. The town center had a large heavily shelled American tank displayed for photo buffs.

Clara and Alexandra Robert with Bryce and Trent Rigney in Bastogne, Belgium.

Prior to the museum we all ate a hearty lunch at a local restaurant that commemorates the 101stAirborne. The 101stAirborne even have their own Bière brune called Airborne– delicious!

Thierry is an avid connoisseur of good food and wine. He’s presently training to become a restaurant sommelier. Upon meeting up after our museum tour, Thierry took us to a delectable sausage and meat store. He purchased numerous cheeses, chicken and sausages for our later-evening meal. My request to stop in the Biggest Little Town in Belgium (Dubuy) on our way home gave us a chance to enjoy beautiful river vistas, walk quaint cobblestone streets and indulge in an ice cream treat.

Later, at home, while the BBQ was firing up dinner, it was fun watching the guys playing with their dog, Phooie, with neighbor cows lowing in the background. The sunlight held until 10:00 pm while we continued to drink way too much of Thierry’s very very fine wine…. What an eventful, beautiful day with loved ones.

Backyard of Chez Famille Robert in Huy, Belgium

I cannot forget to mention our visit into Thierry’s well stocked wine cellar, decorated with wood from wine boxes. He also had two valuable cars stored in his garage, a pristine Cobra along with a Porche. His standards of taste in collecting beautiful prizes is astounding.

Bidding sad farewells to our friends in Belgium, we set off to Eastern France, via Luxembourg. A bowl of traditional green bean soup and a long stroll around this beautiful city was all the time we could spare before continuing our second, long toll-highway trek, this time to Alsace.

by Rosie Dennis with additions from Leslie Dennis Rigney

 

Bryce's Posts, Easter Island, Samoa, Fiji, Vanuatu, Darwin, Experiential

A Surf Day in Vanuatu: Pongo Point, Efate by Bryce Rigney

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June 22nd, 2017 : Bryce’s Journal

On our second day hanging around the island of Efaté, Vanuatu anchored off Port Vila, I called a local surf instructor, John, to see if he could show my brother and I around the local breaks. At the end of the call, he asked if I could come skate around to the café to meet us. Eventually, I wandered upon the shop and found the instructor. He was a small 27-year-old man with dark skin and short dread locks. He looked very friendly. Trent and I introduced ourselves hoping to makes plans for the morrow. It was concluded that we would meet up around 9:30 am at the wharf to skate around with some other kids while waiting for the high tide to crawl in. And then once the tide was close to its peak, my brother and I would fetch our boards on the boat to then catch a mini bus ride to Pongo Village, where John (the instructor) lived. Once all was said and concluded, John and I skated over to ask permission from my parents. Thankfully they said yes, and with that the plan was settled.

Efate Island, Vanuatu

Anxious to go surfing, I had trouble sleeping through the night. Finally, the morning light rose and the timer on the clock began to ring. Before we were allowed to leave my dad gave us some chores. The first on the list was to take out and clean the spark plug on our little 3.3 horse engine, once that was finished we needed to start our reports, comparing the archipelago of Fiji and Samoa. We finished both chores by eight o’clock then commenced the days packing of extra clothes, water bottles and snacks. With our surfboards, board shorts, skateboards, and the bus money all ready to go, we lowered the dingy in the water and putted off with our skateboards. Trent and I waited around the wharf skating for an hour and a half, and right before heading back to the boat disappointed, John and his 8-year old student (Charlie- a girl) showed up. Together we skated around looking for a place to eat lunch. We came upon a place called Nambawun café and ordered protein with a chocolate brownie. An hour later we snatched our boards from the boat, mom motored us back to the wharf and we caught a bus to take us surfing. The four of us arrived to see 1ft waves and hardly anybody out. The tide was not quite high tide yet, so we weren’t completely depressed.

We stashed our things at John’s house and changed into our surf wear. A few minutes later we left towards the beach with hope of high tide to bring bigger waves. As we got closer we saw more and more surfers crowding what was now 2ft waves. So we hopped in the water and all paddled out together to the break. John and Charlie complained from the start that the water temperature of 80° was too cold, but us bros didn’t mind. We surfed around the beginner’s spot for a good half hour trying to figure out the waves’ weird way of breaking. Eventually the group separated and paddled to their preferred breaks, being as their were four different reef breaks all just ten minutes paddle away from each other. I scooted over to a super shallow left reef break where the waves were more my size, and my style. There I could get sets of 4ft waves to shoot down the line and give a big carve at the end of the wave before it got too shallow. The name of this particular spot was called Breakas, and it was my preferred break. The four of us stayed out until the tide once again dropped too far to be able to surf.

Breakas, Pongo, Efate, Vanuatu

Those three hours of surf made us really hungry. We dropped our stuff of at John’s house to grab some money and to head out for fries. Hanging out while waiting for the fries, we talked about the past few hours and enjoyed access to the internet. After gobbling down the French fries we paid at the register and hopped back in the car for a return ride to John’s house. Once arrived at the house we quickly gathered all our things and placed them in a pile near the door. Charlie packed to leave as well since her ride home was coming. Since her mom would be picking her up to take her back to town we asked if it would be possible to give us a lift. As the mom arrived we grabbed our things and asked if she could drop us off at the wharf. She agreed, so we placed our things in her 4×4 and hopped in the back. During the car ride, John, Charlie, Trent, and I all talked and bragged about our day’s best waves. As the car came to a stop we ended the great day thanking the mom for the ride and saying good bye to our new friends John and Charlie.

Once on the shoreline, we laid our things aside down and looked for someone to borrow a phone so I could call my dad for a dingy ride back to the boat. We waited impatiently as my dad motored across to reach the dock. The first thing I said was, “Hey dad, do you think it would be possible to do this again tomorrow morning?” but he denied my request. I already knew it wasn’t going to be possible, knowing that tomorrow morning Kandu (Our boat) was scheduled to leave Port Vila in the morning to head to Pentecost. We got back home and over dinner gave our parents a run down on what happened during our great surf day in Vanuatu.

Bryce Rigney lookin’ at you!

Here are photos and videos of some of the other cool things we did during our tour of the Vanuatu Islands.

Tanna Volcano Mount Yasur upclose!

Bryce and Trent Rigney with the Rom Dancers of Ambrym Island, Vanuatu

Land Diving on Pentecost Island, Vanuatu

After the Land Diving, I helped pound the Kava roots for the adults to drink and celebrate the last diving of the season.

Diving the SS President Coolidge wreck, Espiritu Santo, Vanuatu

Riri Blue Hol rope swinging and swimming, Espiritu Santo, Vanuatu