Leaving Ponce

Before we had left for Montreal, I had put a small amount of bleach (less than ¼ cup) into each of our 40-gallon water tanks. WW swore up and down there was nothing wrong with the water; I swore up and down it was revolting, vile, and undrinkable. The chlorine did a great job and didn’t leave any taste after and hour or two. I ran the bleachy water through both our sink taps, to make sure the lines were all cleared out. From pong to pure! It was lovely. WW grumped on board saying he could smell the bleach halfway down the dock.

In preparation for our departure from Ponce, WW cleaned the water filter at the kitchen sink (a special hand pump provides drinking water), then decided my bleach treatment had worked so well, he’d repeat it. His notion was that, if a little worked, a lot would be better. The taps ran pure bleach for a while, then I filled the tanks with fresh water, hoping the bleach would be diluted sufficiently that my drinking water wouldn’t make me think “swimming pool.” Let’s just say, it helped, but it wasn’t a full cure.

Then I did laundry, swabbed inside, and hosed down the decks. In our absence, birds had clearly decided our boat was the perch of choice. WW had done a thorough job, but they’d been back.

I checked on the oxtail stew I was making. I had bought an entire jointed oxtail for $13 US at the warehouse. The beef here is tough as old nails, but very tasty. I had had this stew going for two days, off and on. In a nod to our location, it contained chunks of yautía (taro), cassava, chayote (also chocho or christophene), and West Indian pumpkin. It was amazing, and fed us several more dinners. For a special treat, I made WW dessert: bananas sautéed in butter, brown sugar, lime juice, and rum. He had the leftovers on his oatmeal two days running.

Well fed, we retired, ready to raise anchor bright and early, and head east along the south coast of PR