Sailing to Cartagena

After a couple of relaxing days in the San Blas islands requiring little more from us passengers than the odd bit of washing up or cooking of pancakes (yep, that would be me again), we set sail on the two day trip to Cartagena.

At first it seemed nice that everyone was given a turn at the helm on the way out of San Blas, and the sailing was good as the seas were mild and the wind (often directly from the East) was coming from the north east allowing us to hoist plenty of sail to complement the engines.

Andreas, our captain made an offhand remark as we sailed out of San Blas that everyone would get a turn at night sailing before we reached Cartagena and I didn't really understand the implications of what he meant until I was woken for my shift at the helm at 3am. Canadian Dara and I replaced Angela and Christian (the Swiss couple) at the helm for our three hour stint steering the boat on a due east course for Cartagena. Andreas was curled up in his blanket in the rear of the boat behind me for most of this time, occasionally lifting up his head to check our course or proximity to the two cargo ships whose lights we could see on the horizon.

It turned out to be a six hour shift by the time I was relieved of steering duties, which was interrupted for an hour of stationary battering by waves while Andreas performed some patch repairs on the main sail which had torn during the night.

Although below deck, things weren't going so well either. American friends Sean and Bryan were sharing the front bed, and it turned out that both the windows above their bed leaked, dripping water on Bryan's face most of the night. Meanwhile, Alicia was bedridden with seasickness and would henceforth scarcely be seen out of her bunk for more than five minutes for the rest of the voyage. Adam had fared better in the bed he shared with me, and we had the added advantage of fresher air as we were positioned below the only hatch that could be left open.

All in all, it was a long night and Andreas was being evasive about whether we would arrive the following evening or have another night at sea. While it was a little bumpy, the weather remained relatively mild for ocean sailing, with two to three metre swells, but still reasonable winds which meant that the sails were assisting our speed as well as providing stability.

The day was uneventful apart from the appearance of a pod of dolphins who swam alongside the boat for a bit, and I turned in early, hoping to get a good sleep in before our next shift.

I'm still not sure when the weather turned bad, but Adam mentioned the first shift helm team (him, Sean and Bryan) had a couple of good hours before "it all went to sh*t". The wind and seas both picked up and the mainsail tore again, this time in two places. With the sails down for repairs for almost two hours, the boat was again buffeted by the waves and this would continue for most of the night. Conditions in the front cabin had deteriorated and Shaun and Brian's bed was soaked and the books and fruit on the shelves above them were falling on them while they tried to sleep, Dara's cabin started to leak and Angela and Christian were being knocked around badly in their tiny cabin. Meanwhile my bed started to disintegrate, and I needed to hold the cushion I was sleeping on in place with my foot while holding the bunk above me with my hand just to stay in the bed. Then the waves started crashing over the whole deck and through our open hatch, drenching half the bed, Adam's pillow and my back before I got it shut.

I gave up trying to sleep shortly after Adam came downstairs as the bed was proving difficult to hold together with one person in it, it was proving impossible to do so with two. Sean moved into the Swiss bed during their shift at the helm, leaving Bryan to endure the torrent of sea water, books and oranges coming down on their bed.

Up on deck, the weather was continuing to deteriorate and tiny 22 year old Angela was bravely attempting to hold the boat, which again had a ripped mainsail, on our due easterly course. I dozed for a while in the cockpit while Angela continued to wrestle with the helm. Unfortunately Swiss precision time making apparently doesn't extend to Swiss precision time reading and Dara and I started the last shift at 2:45 instead of our scheduled 4am.

By this stage Bryan had moved into Dara's room leaving Sean to the rain of fruit and salt water in their bed, Alicia had given Adam her bunk and just sat forlornly at the navigation desk asking everyone who walked past when it would be over, and Andreas, who had been working most of the night, had curled up, exhausted, in the cockpit. As we got closer to land, the wind and seas both lightened substantially and our passage became calm, and by the time the sun came up, we were sailing smoothly along the Columbian coastline about 12 nautical miles from Cartagena.


Having done some harbour racing I've always wanted to try the Sydney to Hobart yacht race, and I understand from people who have done one that night shifts, torn sails, leaking hatches, and lack of food and sleep are all part and parcel of those types of voyages. So I should point out that none of this experience makes me any less inclined to attempt ocean racing should the opportunity arise. However, this isn't what your average group of backpackers are expecting to be signing up for when they book a boat trip to Cartagena.