Josh Family Robinson (#20)

I befriended this cruising family during their stay in the marina. This is the story in their own words of their journey from Western Cuba to the Yucatan. It might make any of you considering taking up the sailing life to think twice.

The western end of Cuba is very dark. The channel markers and lights are not well maintained or even tied down. Some work, some don’t. Some are there. Some are not. Some are halfway in the middle of there and not. Some move in the middle of the night. You can watch them glide across the bay. On our approach to Marina Los Morros I was looking for an exposed wreck to get my bearings. I thought I found it about 100 feet off the bow, two miles from where it was supposed to be. Thinking I was in the wrong place, I turned the wheel hard to port to avoid a collision when its lights came on. It was a fishing vessel of some sort anchored in the bay and was full of people. It had no lights at all on until I hit it with the Q-beam. Then all the lights appeared. Scared the crap out of me and them. Shortly after we passed, the lights went back out. Because of this and the roving channel markers, we decided to stay put and anchor for the night. Best to wait for dawn to see what else had been lurking in the dark. 
At first light we pulled anchor and headed for the marina. Channel markers were non-existent. 100 yards from the dock was one green and red pole. Against the background of mangroves, they were impossible to see. We were met outside by a member of the Cuban Coast Guard. He was in his Cutter which was a twelve foot fiberglass skiff that leaked like a sieve. It had homemade oars that were lashed to pegs with hemp rope and no motor. We gave the guy a coke, completed our paperwork and off we went. As we left Cabo San Antonio, the winds were good. We got about six miles offshore when they died. We were approaching the eastern shipping channel so I decided to fire the motor. After topping off our tanks with fuel out of jerry cans, checking all the fluids, taking down the mainsail, stay sail, and rolling in the head sail, we started heading west across the channel. It was a very busy place. Once across, I asked my wife Jodi to take a watch so I could get some much needed sleep. It had been two and a half days since I'd gotten more than an hour at a time. A couple hours later Jodi woke me. The winds had picked back up. It was getting dark and the seas were starting to build. I braced myself for another all-nighter. We reached the western shipping channel in the middle of the night. It was extremely busy. Ships everywhere. Super tankers, freighters and mammoth cruise liners. We had to alter course to keep a safe distance. As the night progressed, the winds kept building along with the seas. I grew more tired and exhausted. I was all jazzed up on candy and energy drinks. The physical and mental exhaustion mixed with the sugar rush caused nausea. That led to a good purge which made me even more tired. So I woke up Jodi and begged her to take a watch. She, also being exhausted, was quite peeved. But I desperately needed sleep. 
After about an hour she woke me and asked "When is a freighter too close?”. I responded "When you’re not comfortable". She said "I'm not comfortable!”. Which I kind of blew off knowing that she over exaggerates. Her next question was "What do I do?”. My response was "Change course". I didn’t raise my head until I heard her pressing a lot of buttons on the auto pilot which signaled a drastic course change. I asked her "How close is this freighter"? She said "Look behind you"! I looked over my shoulder and said "Holy %$#@!". He was only a couple of hundred yards off our stern and heading for us fast! I leapt up, took the wheel, threw her hard to port and increased power. It appeared that the freighter did the same. I grabbed the radio and demanded his attention. His response after numerous hails was "What’s your position?". Obviously he'd been asleep. I gave him our position and he immediately turned his ship hard to starboard to avoid a certain collision. Then he came back on the radio. He asked if we were a survey vessel. Once I told him we were a private sailing vessel he knew he wasn’t going to get any cables caught in his screw and quit talking to me. He got back on course and was going full steam ahead when he passed us. I found that pretty discourteous. But at least he'd changed course enough not to hit us. Unfortunately, he was still too close for my comfort. I changed course again and got behind him. That really put us at a disadvantage with the seas.  After all that excitement, I was too wound up to even think about sleeping. Not that Jodi would’ve let me anyway. So we continued on our journey trailing the freighter with the wind and seas building behind us.
Before the sun rose, Jodi popped up and said “Go to sleep. I got this“. I slept soundly for a couple of hours. When I awoke we were surrounded by dolphins. They were surfing on the waves beside us and off of our bow. We were all amazed and captivated. It seemed like there were hundreds of them. Only then did we realize that the waves they were surfing were shoulder height to us. Amazing to see a dolphin go zooming by at eye level. Shortly after the dolphins left,we got deeper into the Yucatan Channel. The great blue sea grew larger and more powerful with the strengthening winds. It had white foamy crests topping the waves as they broke over our heads. Thirty miles off the Yucatan Peninsula they decided they wanted to devour our skiff. The one we had towed behind us for the past 1112 miles. I had no choice but to cut her loose. We were in peril. We'd stopped moving forward and were being pulled by the seas to the north. We had no time to lament the lose of our beloved ugly skiff. The seas were well overhead now with winds blowing near to a gale. I rolled our head sail into just barely a rag as we were tossed to and fro. I started to think that maybe I’d made a wrong choice. But there was no going back at this point. We had to keep moving forward. I looked at my children and saw that there was no fear for the danger we were in. They were convinced that their Dad, their Captain, had everything under control. But I was nearing my limit. We kept on course with the seas and wind still building. There wasn't another boat in sight and we were unable to hail anyone on the radio. I kept telling myself “We only have twenty-five miles to go. That’s just 5 1/2 more hours”. As we neared the continental shelf the waves became closer together and more blown out. We started taking water in over the stern. I sent Jodi down below to batten hatches. Not so easy to do in nearly 20 foot seas. Down below, the boat was in shambles. Once we crossed over the shelf and got into water less than a mile deep, the seas started to lose their anger but not their size. It wasn’t until we were five miles from shore that they started to diminish. It was a nice feeling to finally see the bottom on our depth finder. As we neared the Mexican Coast, I rolled out some more sail to pick up speed and get us in before dark. We got into the harbor, set our anchors, reorganized our boat, broke out a bottle of wine and some food and celebrated our safe arrival in Isle Mujeres, Mexico. Still no rest for the weary though. That night it blew hard and rained harder. Boats were dragging around us in the harbor. I got back up to stand watch to ensure our safety. After feeling we’d be OK for the night, I got a couple of hours sleep. It’s morning now and there’s a lot to do. After the day’s over I’m going to get the best sleep I’ve had in six days. 
We’re all well. The few bumps, bruises, cuts and scrapes will heal. The boat fared the journey with no damage and I have new confidence in my wonderful vessel and terrific crew. They are all very seaworthy. 
Fair Winds and Calm Seas
Josh and family