Today Olga and I are anchored at Deshaies (pronounced Day-hay), Guadeloupe. Yesterday we left the north end of Montserrat and coasted along its eastern shore to gawk at the awesome devastation wrought on the southern half of that unfortunate jewel of an island by the still-active Soufriere Hills volcano. Then we had a perfect 30-mile sail to Guadeloupe. It was just the kind of day every sailor dreaming of a Caribbean cruise imagines.
We arrived here in company with five other cruising boats. (We
were first,
not that it matters.) Guadeloupe is a beautiful island, and Deshaies is especially picturesque, but every single crew was flush with excitement about only one thing—that they/we had actually been sailing.
What is the big deal? you ask. Come with us on our two-year odyssey.
Caribbean cruises originating on the east coast of the United States fall into two categories—those that involve long offshore passages and those that don’t. This article is primarily concerned with those that don’t, nearly all of which start with transiting some or all of the Intracoastal Waterway. The Waterway is a cruising destination in its own right, providing a changing panorama of scenery and tangible exposure to an incredible amount of American history. Watching the country unspool at five knots can be a joy, but let’s face it; the Waterway is essentially a ditch. There is unlikely to be a single day underway that you will not run your engine.You might get a chance to raise sails when crossing some of the sounds, but you should not even count on that.
OK, everybody knows that. You are going to motor to south Florida, then jump off to the Bahamas. Of course, the Bahamas are to the east and the prevailing winds—and I do mean prevailing—are out of the east. So if you expect to sail to the Bahamas, the usual tactic is to wait for a strong norther to push through, riding a veering south or west wind across the Gulf Stream. This sounds easier than it is likely to be, and if this is your first experience with the Gulf Stream, you should be aware that you will be gambling with your entire cruise. Cold fronts tend to come through in a rush, with the wind getting all the way around to the north in a hurry. The Gulf Stream is decidedly no place to be in a north wind. If half of your crew is already nervous and you get yourself caught out in the Gulf Stream in a building norther, I can almost guarantee that your cruise is over, at least with your current crew.
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Even those of us who have crossed to the Bahamas scores of times prefer to catch a weak weather system that simply turns off the east wind, then scamper across the Stream under power. Besides, even if you do manage to ride a norther across the Gulf Stream, you only rest your engine for a day. Your next anchorage is 80 miles to the east, and Mayaguana, your last Bahamian island, is nearly 450 miles away, all of it dead to windward. If you
cruise through the Bahamas on your way south, you should get the occasional day when you can sail a few miles, but those days are more rare than you imagine and they have to coincide with when you are ready to move on. When we passed through the Bahamas two years ago, the only times the wind was not blowing from the southeast, it was howling out of the north, with turbulent seas to match. So like everyone else, we motored south on light air days.
Through the Turks & Caicos? Wind out of the southeast. From there you might get a chance to sail straight south to the Dominican Republic, but if the wind is southeast, you will have the motor running. From the Dominican Republic, expect to motor or motorsail to Puerto Rico. You can tack along the south coast of Puerto Rico, but if you are traveling with a group, everyone else will be trying to minimize the between port time, meaning all motors will be running. You are going to motorsail to the Virgins, motorsail to St. Martin, motorsail to St. Barts, etc., etc., etc. So when the rare day arrives that the wind frees and you can turn off the engine, it is something remarkable.
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Why am I telling you this? Because all the major ports we have passed through getting here are partially populated with fellow cruisers' broken engines and broken dreams. They sit despondently waiting for parts, or worse yet, in the clutches of an incompetent or unscrupulous mechanic. A dead engine stops your cruise cold. Don’t delude yourself into thinking that you can just do without. Unless you are the kind of sailor that spits to windward, going engineless is simply not an option.
A cruising boat being prepared for a cruise to the Caribbean must start out with an engine that is 100 percent dependable. If your engine has a few little idiosyncrasies that you work around at home, correct them before you leave. For a long cruise, a new engine or at least a complete rebuild of your existing engine is not overkill, and it may very well turn out to be the cheaper option. Pay me now or pay me (much, much more) later.
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You can also reduce the potential for engine failure with vigilant maintenance. Check for water discharge every start. Check fluids every day. Change the oil in the engine and the transmission regularly and often. Change the coolant annually. Install bright lights in the engine compartment and inspect the engine regularly. Start out with a clean fuel tank. Feed your engine only clean fuel. We pass every drop of fuel that enters our tank through a water-excluding filter. That means we jerry-jug all fuel, but we have not had to change the primary fuel filter in two years. (But we nevertheless have plenty of spare filters aboard.)
Engine problems too often spell the end of a long planned cruise, and there is little reason for that to happen. Modern marine diesels are wonderfully dependable, but they can grow tired. Starting your cruise with a tired engine because your boat is, after all, a sailboat is uninformed foolishness. Don’t do it. You can sail home, but you are going to be motoring going south. Be sure your motor is up to the job.
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