Farewell to Republica Dominicana

The weather on Monday was still bad. Winds of 20 knots or more and a big surge. Chris Parker, the weather guy, said it should improve dramatically by Tuesday.

Tuesday morning at 5 a.m., we prepared for departure. A representative of the Dominican navy appeared on the dock with our departure documents and a request for $20 US. With the sun still below the horizon, but giving enough light for WW to see the way out, we left our dock and headed toward the Atlantic. At precisely the same moment, three other boats headed out. We slipped out of the marina, avoided the heavy breakers at its entrance, and were once again on the Atlantic. Chris Parker is usually very accurate. For reasons he himself (a day later) was unable to explain, the wind continued to blow at 20 to 25 knots, and the seas continued at 8 to 10 feet until that evening. We were headed straight into all of it. It made for a bit of a bouncy passage. We were managing about 4 knots, until we arrived at Cabo Frances Viejo in the late afternoon. A strong current was running against us and we slowed to about 2.5 knots.

We took watches of two hours on, two hours off, starting at 7 p.m. I had first watch. There was virtually no shipping and the seas had settled quite a bit. WW had one unpleasant moment when he saw a small yacht that appeared to be passing on our starboard side. Then the red lights became green and he realized it was going to cross our bows. He had to alter course some 20 points to avoid a collision. We can only assume there was no one keeping watch on the other boat. WW had the dawn watch and the pleasure of seeing the mountains of Cabo Samaná. Very beautiful, I am told.

We sailed from Bahía Samaná east, with the coast of the DR beside us all day. We were doing about 5 knots straight into a 10- to 15-knot wind, and feeling rather pleased that the comfort had increased so markedly over our first day. Then the starboard engine stopped. Dead.

I took watch while WW hung head down in various small compartments in the starboard after berth. He determined the problem. It was not good. The fuel line was clogged. Now, this is normally not a big deal. It clogs at the filters. Diesel fuel in the islands is notoriously dirty, but multiple filters usually solve the problem. It’s just a question of replacing the filters. In our case, however, the blockage was in the fuel tank. It seemed weird, but WW had read that a bit of water condensation can lead to bacterial or algal growth in the fuel. The bacteria and/or algae cling to the sides of the fuel tank, unless they are torn off by a rough passage (e.g., our first day out of Ocean World), at which point they can clog the line. Another possibility was rust in the fuel. WW was suspicious of the diesel we’d purchased in Rum Cay. I thought it was a dead mouse.

We were able to get the engine to run at greatly reduced rpm, so a trickle of fuel was getting to where it needed to be, but it wasn’t really satisfactory.

We pondered our choices. We could head into Punta Cana and work on repairs, or we could try to get to Puerto Rico on one engine. The biggest problem with that choice was that we might run out of fuel. The starboard engine’s fuel tank was almost full, but we had no way to transfer it for use by the port engine. Punta Cana seemed a good idea until we realized we’d have to go half way to Puerto Rico to clear an area of very bad rips, then sail back in to the DR to make landfall. We finally decided to press on.

During his early evening watch, WW had another near miss with a small ship crossing our bows. Mind you, this time he realized we didn’t have our running lights on and were effectively invisible. He switched them on.

We saw the last of the Dominican coastline, brightly lit, as it vanished below the horizon sometime toward midnight.