The Mona Passage

Between the Dominican Republic and Puerto Rico lies the Mona Passage. It’s about 80 miles wide. It represents a huge mass of water moving between the Atlantic and the Caribbean. In a very short distance, its depth goes from 5,000 metres at the Mona Canyon to 100 metres in the Horseshoe Shoal, which extends about 20 miles out from the eastern Dominican coast. As a result, a lot of water piles up in the Shoal, creating an area of severe rips, unpredictable currents, and overfalls. It’s a no-sail zone. A lot of shipping moves through the navigable part of the Passage. Like the Gulf Stream, the Mona Passage is to be treated with respect. And, preferably, with all engines functioning well.

So, OK, the engine thing wasn’t working for us. Fortunately, the weather was excellent, the winds not too strong, the seas benign. We were making about 3.5 knots with the port engine at full function and the starboard wheezing. Then the starboard engine died again.

I kept watch while WW hung head down some more. This time, he used multiple containers, drained nasty diesel into them, covered himself with it, and blew hard into the fuel line. He cleared it. We had our second engine back at full function. Our pace picked up to 5 knots and more. We knew it was a temporary reprieve. Whatever was in there would probably find its way back to the mouth of the fuel line.

Toward the end of my watch, sure enough, Little Miss Starboard started to die again. WW now knew the drill and had her running again almost immediately. His watch was uneventful. I think the blockage realized he’d got its number and the game was no fun anymore. Then, during one of my watches, the port engine started to miss. WW came on deck (he is awakened by these things) and worried, but there wasn’t much to be done. At least the engine kept going.

I had the dawn watch – my favourite. WW had retired, completely exhausted. I believe he was asleep in under a minute. I was enjoying the sight of the tiny but very tall Isla Desecheo rising from the sea. Then the feel of the port engine changed. When I stood on the starboard side, my feet could feel the purr of the engine there. On the port side, I felt a rhythmic clunking. I hated to do it, but I woke WW. He agreed there was something, checked all inboard things and said it might be the propeller. There was nothing to be done in that case until we reached an anchorage. He went back to sleep; the sound seemed to lessen.

A ship appeared on the horizon and I eyed her through the binoculars, trying to figure out what direction she was headed. I finally decided she was headed toward me, so I altered course to pass astern of her. After a few more minutes, I was better able to make out her form and realized I’d altered course to collide with her. I rectified the matter.

Soon after, the coast of Puerto Rico appeared on the horizon. WW raised sail and we had two good hours of beautiful sailing. We made almost 7 knots some of the time. By 3:30 we were on our way in to Boquerón.