The Story of sailing Vessel Apuej Bien in Venezuela

It was February 2010, and my husband, Jerome and I were sitting in front of the TV watching the super bowl at Gary’s house when we finalized our sailing trip plans to Cartagena, Colombia the following summer. We would sail as flotilla in our sailboat, Apuej Bien; and Gary’s sailboat, SPECTRA. Gary lives on his boat in Trinidad and we have been keeping our boat in the hard at IMS Boatyard in Chaguaramas.  Our plan was to perform a series of survey related repairs and upgrades in our boat for cruising which included the electrical system and our refrigeration unit.  From November 2010 to July 2011 Jerome spent a lot of his time studying “Boatowners’ Mechanical and Electrical Manual” by Nigel Calder and acquiring equipment.  In July Jerome traveled to Trinidad to supervise survey repairs and make upgrades, spending the whole month in Trinidad.

Among challenges sailors encounter while sailing are the potential threat of infamous pirates and thieves around the Venezuelan passages, so we had many discussions about it.   While it preoccupied my thoughts, my husband believed it was overplayed within the cruising community. Two years before, Jerome, Smitty  and I left Trinidad and sailed as far as Puerto La Cruz, Venezuela.  We set anchor in Los Testigos, Margarita Island, Coche, Mochima, and docked at Cumana and Puerto La Cruz.   Both my husband and I had a great time. We  motor sailed more than anticipated as we didn't have much breeze but didn't come across any repair issues, these had been felicitous passages.  We enjoyed the “arepas” and everyone was quite friendly, albeit surprised to see Americans visiting their country, yet still helpful and cordial. Jerome and I said we definitely would be completing our sailing trip as planned.

On September 1, 2011 we arrived in Trinidad and spent another month making sure both boats were seaworthy.  Our grandson, Terence joined us this time.  The preparation as usual was a little hectic, but mostly what kept me going after all was the dream of setting sail in order to visit these destinations we wanted to see.  After a pleasant 12 hour shakedown cruise, on Sunday October 2, 2011, we arrived at Grenada’s Martin’s Bay; thus beginning our carefully crafted but leisurely sailing trip we had envisioned and planned so many months in advance.

We had been sailing for almost two months after spending time in Grenanda, Lost Testigos, Margarita Island, Coche, Cumana when we finally arrived to Puerto La Cruz, Venezuela. After some needed repairs which included replacement of cracked plexi-glass on our forward hatch and re-engineering of our propeller shaft which disconnected at the coupling in Los Testigos, Gary and Smitty learned they had to return to Trinidad due to a family emergency.  Jerome and I decided to continue on our course to Bonaire along with our grandson, Terence.  

On November 7^th  we finally checked out from Marina Bahia Redonda once our most important repair to the propeller shaft had been completed. We casted off at 2:30 a.m. and were under full sails enjoying clear skies, a light following 8-10 knot easterly breeze, the most spectacular sunrise to our stern with Cayo Borracho fading on the horizon and with almost one third of our course to La Tortuga covered when we heard a thump from down below.  My husband ran down below to find out that our propeller shaft had again disconnected from its coupling.  He grabbed the wooden plug and quickly placed it in the hole left by the propeller shaft to stop the water from coming into the boat.  This was the second time the shaft had come loose since having our cutlass bearing replaced in Trinidad during survey repairs.  Fortunately the shaft and propeller could not fall completely into the abyss as it was blocked by the spade rudder which was positioned astern.  Highly frustrated, Jerome decided to return to Puerto La Cruz, at the time that the breeze was just beginning to decrease to like three or two knots, thus leaving us exposed in a busy shipping lane.  

The return trip took us on close hull into the prevailing wind, but there was no wind, what a contradiction.  However, based on our speed of 1.3 to 2 knots we’d be stuck in the boating lanes at night fall.  We had been moving slowly for a while when Jerome decided to heave; put on his dive gear and dive. I stood lookout, radio in hand, for any commercial traffic which could pose a threat.  Luckily, Jerome was able to push propeller and shaft back into as Terence assisted from inside the boat down below.  Because of his past experience he was able to reconnect the shaft to the coupling and we were able to turn the engine on and get back to the marina while it was still bright. 

Now, we had already checked out of customs and immigration; paid the fees and all; in fact we had been running out of cash by this moment.  Were the authorities going to require that we check in again in order to perform the repairs?  Fortunately, the captain of the port/immigration and customs official didn't require this and they gave us a few more days to complete our repairs.   Upon us calling the port marina alerting them we had to return and once we explained what had happened, they called the person, Juan, who had performed the repairs, he showed up that same afternoon and the next day modified his repairs of the shaft and coupling.

Seemed like there was a God and that the powers that be were indeed watching us and assisting us in completing this journey.  We had “arroz con pollo” and celebrated with joy.  Unbeknownst to us was the nightmarish series of events that were about to follow.

We made it to La Tortuga, finally; everyone jumped to the irresistible crystalline waters painted in shades of light blue, darker blue and greenish.  The sand was like vanilla, and as the waves broke on shore, the water mixed with the fine sand forming milk like appearance of the water as it washed the shore.   This is why we engage in this sometimes cumbersome undertaking of sailing, to be able to witness the majesty of nature.  It truly makes one feel blessed.  We set anchor and woke up the next day, after having breakfast and chilling out for a while we set our sails again to Los Roques.  Soon we planned, we would be in Bonaire. 

It turned out that the Poseidon, or Neptune was in a good mood that afternoon because we had a great sail to Los Roques  Archipelagos .  Actually arriving earlier than expected at o-dark 4:30 am, since we could not see clearly at this time of the morning, we had to anchor near a big bolder and rocky cliff which showed as an anchorage area on our chart plotter.  Exhausted, everyone just crashed to take a nap while we waited for sunrise.  Down below I heard the sound of a motor and peeked through the companionway where I saw a pirogue approaching our vessel.  It circled our vessel and I noticed there were two men in a white pirogue, wearing “Guardacostas” jackets.  I stayed down below but they didn’t say anything; they must have seen Terence sleeping up on deck and apparently didn’t decide to wake him or us.

The sun came out and as it cleared we realized we were just in front of the bay of El Gran Roque, and Apuej Bien was anchored in front of the Venezuelan Coast Guard Station!  We quickly decided to move at the time that the same pirogue made facial gestures that they had seen us and making a movement with the head indicating “no”.  Ok, we realized, we were not supposed to do that, but they didn’t say anything so everything was good and unexpectedly fine, we thought.  We later observed a sizable Venezuelan Naval Taskforce Force, which included two Destroyers operating off shore; four to five 70 foot Patrol Boats, and a Venezuelan diesel powered submarine arriving in the anchorage and refueling alongside a tanker after what appeared to be night patrols.  We set anchor in front of El Gran Roque, and decided to go ashore find an ATM and get some provisions before setting sail to Bonaire.  We had run out of milk and bread.   However, upon landing we learned that power had been out for 6 days, so no funds could be dispensed and the only bank on the island remained closed. 

Again, we witnessed the grandiosity of Mother Nature in these islands and came across some quite amicable people.    The unthinkable was just some minutes ahead.

On our way out from Los Roques Archipelagos , we had been sailing for ten miles when I heard the someone talking in Spanish on channel 16.  The words were “buque de vela navegando a mi proa favor de identificarse”.  I told my husband I thought someone was speaking to us but I couldn't see any vessel around us.  The second time I heard the voice from the radio I glanced to our stern and saw the gray Naval vessel; with an even harsher tone the person was indeed asking us to identify our vessel.   I identified the vessel in Spanish phonetically spelling Apuej Bien.  Always in a harsh tone the captain of the vessel we could see now, Fumarel, asked us for the last port and the time we had left.  They asked for the name of our vessel’s captain which I provided. At this time I became a little nervous and couldn’t even remember the which day it was or the month.  I looked for our transit papers down below and provided the information in Spanish to the captain of the Venezuelan Navy. 

What followed was the unexplainable, after having us change our course in order to approach them; which we did, the Coast Guard Captain then asked for additional identifying information of our vessel and our last port of departure which included the specific date, time and port of departure.  He also asked for our exact arrival time into Los Roques which we provided.  He then asked for our intended destination which I provided as Bonaire.  Upon approaching our vessel again the Captain of Fumarel queried us about our departure time from Puerto La Cruz and date which I provided.

Eventually, after some back and forth with translating Spanish to English to my husband, the captain of this Venezuelan Navy ship asked us to return to El Gran Roque for an inspection.  After translating their request to my husband he asked me to inquire why they couldn’t perform the inspection right there.  We could see their vessel had a dinghy.  Our request was denied and they again indicated that we had to return to El Gran Roque Coast Guard Station for a security inspection under their escort, which was 13 miles away and dead into the wind with nightfall approaching.  We had been warned that sailing this area in the late afternoon could be a challenge, and at night it was dangerous.      

 We complied, mostly given that the navy officers from Venezuela were pointing machine guns at us. We set our sails and headed Mag 68 degrees Mag track towards El Gran Roque.  The Captain then asked what our heading was which I provided as 68 degrees; he then instructed us to head on a 90 degree heading.  We informed the Captain that since we were sailing we could not head 90 degrees because it was directly into the wind.  He then instructed us to use my motor and I replied we could not use our motor because we would not have the needed fuel to complete our journey to Bonaire.  Since fuel is not legally sold to foreign flag vessels in Venezuela our fuel supply was limited.

 

A back and forth discussion ensued as it became evident that the captain of the Venezuelan Navy couldn’t comprehend how the sailboat operated; and as he didn’t allow my husband to speak to them; rather, I was translating the conversation back and forth.   I could feel the tension, frustration and anger by the number of lines I could see drawn in my husband’s forehead.  Intently looking at the chart plotter and answering the Naval Officer’s questions and demands, we sailed for a couple of hours.  We saw the Naval commander making gestures for us to move to the south and asking us over the radio if we knew where El Grand Roques was located.  Obviously this naval officer couldn’t understand the sailing vessel.  I was becoming increasingly preoccupied that there was the possibility of it getting dark before approaching the area of El Grand Roque. 

After approximately 45 minutes into our return trip the patrol vessel Fumarel came along side our vessel and signaled our vessel to head south into Los Roques Archipelagos Island Chain. Our original track would have taken us north/northeast and we could have made a single tack which would have taken our vessel directly into El Grand Roque, thus avoiding the dangerous channels of Los Roques  Archipelagos , an area which we were not familiar with.    

We made a port tack as instructed and headed south towards the island channels and continued east/southeast towards El Gran Roque.  As we entered the channel the captain of Fumarel radioed us and asked us what our intentions were.  We informed that our original intentions were to go to Bonaire; he then instructed me to follow his vessel to El Gran Roque.  As we proceeded south along the channel, my husband becomes aware that the information on our GPS did not correspond with our depth soundings or the surrounding geography. 

We were entering the channel that showed on our chart plotter between Crasqui and north Noronqui Arriba, however the depth soundings and the surrounding geography did not correspond with the information provided by our GPS.  As we cleared the channel, the Captain of Fumarel came on the Radio and instructed to follow him on a northerly heading which unbeknownst to us tracked directly across a reef area.   I could see the gray formation of land in the distance.   At this time everything sort of happened simultaneously; I explained over the radio what my husband was telling me; the naval officer kept repeating that we had to follow him; my husband quickly asked Terence to chart our location which showed us we were alongside a reef east of Noronquises .  I informed him the area did not seem safe for our passage but he insisted that we proceed in a northeasterly direction towards El Gran Roque.  As my husband tried to change our course we heard the first bump and the second contusion listed Apuej Bien in a 45 degree angle above the water and rocks. 

 At this time I began to scream uncontrollably over the radio, as I screamed for like 30 seconds and we got pounded by waves I yelled through the radio.   I couldn’t see what was in front of me, I was in shock.   I heard the naval officer over the radio asking me to calm down that they were asking for help from the Coast Guard Station in El Grand Roques.  Magically, I heard the most gentle words coming from my husband’s lips; “baby calm down”, at the time that he placed his arms around me.   Listing, Apuej Bien was violently rocking from side to side.  As it listed, the water came on deck which made us keep on slipping from port to starboard.  It was after slipping like this that my husband decided to launch the dinghy.  Jerome asked Terence to go down below and grab a lantern, the sat phone, the radio, our life jackets, since we were wearing our waist packs and a number of things at the time that he was untying the dinghy which fortunately we were dragging from our stern.  We must have been close to thirteen feet above the water when I descended, looking up all the time; making sure not the dinghy didn’t get caught under the hull  or crushed by the boat’s hull which was moving up and down as we moved down to the dinghy.  Miraculously, we all made it to the dinghy without injuries and headed to a piece of land west of where we were located.  Once there, we tried to reach the naval officer who was directing us and were not able to establish communication again.  By then it was completely dark, we were all wet with no idea what was going to happen next.

An hour had passed when the pirogue arrived, there were like five or six men onboard  but we could not communicate so they made gestures indicating to launch the dinghy, the location where we located was surrounded by reef and they couldn't  come ashore.    We launched our dinghy once again, headed across the shallow reef and boarded the pirogue.  In shock, wet and shoeless we finally arrived at Los Roques Coast Guard Station.   As we exited the pirogue, everyone seemed kind of nervous and avoided direct eye contact.  Quickly, I heard someone ask who the person who spoke Spanish was.   A person in khaki uniform identified himself as Lieutenant Junior Dorantes.  Later another individual wearing civil clothes arrived and identified himself as Commandante Oriol Ruiz.  Both officers were very nervous, they seemed embarrassed and constantly lowered their eyes to the floor as they expressed their regret for what had happened, and provided coffee.  It was a disaster, and we lived the days that followed on auto- pilot dealing with what was in front of us.  The Commander of the Station, officer Ruiz put us in contact with the Charter Captain of a privately owned Catamaran Yacht, named Franco.  Commander Ruiz indicated that each of us should be prepared to write a report detailing the accident, but my husband told me in private that he had no intention of writing anything until he could get counsel assistance from the US Embassy and our insurance broker to understand the local laws and requirements governing this event, since the area was also a National Park.    

We spent the following week in limbo under the charge of the Venezuelan Coast Guard and in Franco and Javier’s care; they fed us, provided sleeping quarters and even some moral support.  Franco turned out to be a true mercenary of the seas; he and Javier are quite athletic and were very knowledgeable of the area and re floating stranded vessels.  

The high level energy and work ethics displayed by these two gentlemen brought some much needed hope for the recovery of our boat.  Nevertheless, the government did not provide the assistance that was required and after three days trying to get our vessel out of the reef, the vessel started to take in water; the mast broke at the time that the government officials indicated they wouldn't provide protection to the boat.  The day after the incident my husband was able to recover our computers; some t-shirts, shorts and shoes, which he had to place inside several layers of plastic trash bags to swim the items out to the pirogue since the reef made it impossible for even these small vessels to reach Apuej Bien.

Several days later Guardacostas Commander Ruiz put us in contact with a civilian Captain of another Yacht; this one a power boat; who agreed to take us to Catia La Mar Marina in order for us to take a flight back home.  At this point we prepared our accident report as required under Venezuelan law and provided it to Commander Ruiz.  They also provided us with their report, and a medical certificate which served as additional justification to expedite immigration clearances into the country.  We were finally able to establish contact with the US Embassy and upon arriving in Caracas we were able to stay at the apartment of a personal friend who worked at the US Embassy.  Fortunately, my husband’s previous life required he work at U.S. Embassies in other parts of the world so he still had contacts, which eventually came into play.  Our greatest concern at this moment was our immigration status or lack thereof with the Venezuelan authorities since our passports indicated we had checked out of Venezuela.  Once we returned to El Gran Roque we still had no status of re-entry since there was no Immigration Office in Los Roques, fortunately though, through our contacts at the U.S. Embassy we were able to obtain a document that we would use in case that we ran into problems at the airport.   To our relief, the female Immigration Officer scanned all of our passports through their computers and she stamped each one of them without problems. 

During the days that followed we dealt with some cumbersome and sad acquiescence, having to deal with the paperwork for the Insurance Company.  Mixed bag of feelings reminiscing the incompetent Captain of Fumarel, versus the actions and support provided by Commandante Ruiz, Lt. Dorante and their personnel.  I look back trying to understand why, I have cried, I have been angry, sad and frustrated mostly by impotence.  The other day I went to bed thinking about our boat and thinking I could be preparing for a night sail instead of going to bed; putting on my harness and looking at the moon and the stars, wind blowing through my face.    We lost our yacht, we didn't lose our love, hope, our principles or our faith.