It came as a surprise.A pleasant one, an unexpected one and, most of all, an important one.My plane from Belgium landed in time!And, what’s more, all my bags and important cargo made it quickly and completely into the Dominican Republic.All the beer, chocolate, waffles, mosquito rackets, and miscellaneous stuff for the boat survived the long trip and the several check points.What a relief!It was almost worth all the hassle, suffering and bad luck I experienced on other flights.Almost…
Once outside the airport of Puerto Plata, my big smile melted in the hot sun.Mark was nowhere to be seen.My happiness turned into disappointment and I wondered what had happened.What could be so hard about being in time to see your girlfriend after five weeks?I had visions of trying to make it back to Luperon by public transportation with five heavy pieces of luggage, sweating like mad, and thought about all my precious chocolate that would most definitely melt on the long, three legged trip back.In the midst of my contemplations, a tall guy with a scruffy beard and a huge smile on his face ran towards me.I received him with open arms and lots of kisses.After one big hug, it was time to get back to reality.Mark urged me towards the car.The wind was blowing hard already and the amount of clouds increased with the minute.We had to get going.Quickly…In all my excitement, I had forgotten about hurricane Ike.My bags got stuffed in with the groceries in the trunk and onto our laps.
Mark had rented a car and driver (Nino) with our friends Cindy and Gray.They’d done some sightseeing and shopping before picking me up.Because it was a Saturday, the check out lines in the supermarket had been extremely long, hence their frustrating delay.On the 1.5 hour ride back to Luperon, we exchanged stories.I told my friends about my wonderful stay in Belgium and they filled me in with the details about the Luperon life and hurricane preparations.Most of the boats were tied off in the mangroves and a whole bunch of big fishing boats had arrived, taking up temporary residence in another part of the mangrove rich bay.Supposedly, LuperonHarbour was a chaotic mess, never seen before…Nino rushed us towards our destination, as safely as possible.He knew the importance of getting there before Ike did.
From the moment we arrived at Puerto Blanco Marina, Mark took all my luggage to the boat.I had no idea where Irie was located and wouldn’t find out till later that night.It took a while for my boyfriend to get back and I worried about my valuable stuff having fallen in the water.I was still in the weird state of mind that something had to go terribly wrong.That feeling had been with me since I got up in Belgium earlier that long day.Luckily, nothing happened to my bags, which even stayed dry during the dinghy ride to Irie, because the wind came out of the west instead of its normal easterly direction.The hurricane was good for one thing!
The wind got stronger and the clouds darker.In a hurry, Mark brought the groceries to the boat.Within minutes, the storm was here.A torrential downpour followed.I took shelter under the thatched roof of the marina restaurant, together with a group of other sailors.Gusts of wind blew the rain “inside” and we had to move inwards.While I talked with some friends, Mark showed up, totally drenched.He’d been helping a friend secure his boat.It was just amazing how everybody had been lending hands to everybody the precious days.Mark looked exhausted.I was tired as well, for other reasons, and couldn’t wait to get to our house on hulls.We were trapped in the marina, however, until the first break in the rain.When that came, we rushed ourselves and the dogs to the boat.Kali, who was very happy when she first saw me (Darwin was ecstatic), was totally “out of it” now, because of all the thunder and lightning.
Around 10 pm, we finally settled at home.It was long dark by now, and my impression of the area would have to wait till morning. Mark kept checking our lines, while I unpacked my bags, showed all the goodies and told a few more stories.Our VHF radio stayed on through the night, a distraction, but a good precaution, in case something happened.While the rain was pounding on the decks and the wind was shrieking through the rigging, we fell asleep, knowing that we were well-secured and making lots of electricity with the newly installed wind generator.
We woke up to a quiet and calm morning.The water was very mucky, even darker than normally, and full of debris.We were surrounded by sticks, leaves, pieces of tree trunks and garbage.The air was crisp, the strength of the sun bearable.All the sailboats around us were still where they were supposed to be.I took a little dinghy ride around the harbour, to get a feel for what was going on.In two places, a whole group of colourful fishing boats was tied to the mangroves.Not much else was going on.We heard the wind had peaked to 50 knots that night, but we didn’t believe it, since our wind generator never turned off.Something it would do when the wind reaches a speed of 35 knots.We might have been a bit more protected than the other boats, but still…The fortunate thing was that we had been situated out of Ike’s path. He turned south over Cuba, next door, which got devastated.It could have been this area, if Ike would have altered course just a bit.
So, we survived hurricane Ike (which had the force of a tropical storm over the Dominican Republic) without any problems.It was a lot of hassle for Mark and friends to move our boat to the mangroves and secure her with five lines and three anchors.It also took us a couple of days to get re-anchored elsewhere in the bay and deal with all the muddy lines, anchor chain and anchors.But, with the storm came a few days of cooler weather, something we all craved.That was almost worth all the time, effort and bug bites accompanying the move to the mangroves.Almost!
Irie is a Fountaine Pajot Tobago, a 35 foot catamaran with a beam of about 19 feet. She was born in France in 1998, and spent her childhood in the Caribbean, before arriving in Maryland, USA.
Irie used to be called Big Trouble, when she belonged to her previous owner. This guy neglected her and she sat idle for almost five years. She also didn't like her name, which we experienced the minute she became ours. From the moment we cut her old name in half, by removing the first part, she behaved a little bit nicer, but it wasn't until the "Trouble" left the transom that our problems started to disappear.
When she received her new name, she became a happy girl again, feeling healthy and almost as good as new. She got a lot of new, improved and fixed body parts, and is ready to perform as our house, transportation device and toy!
Oh yeah, "Irie" means "(It's) all good/all right" in Jamaican (Creole). "Irie, man!" We hope our lives will be Irie, and yours too.
It's Mark
Mark is in his mid thirties and was born in Connecticut, but grew up in upstate New York. He lived in Massachusetts, before moving to California, his favorite state. After living "the American dream" for ten years, he decided that wasn't his thing. Becoming a wise, and adventurous man over the last couple of years, he gained a lot of travel experiences and great insights.
He hates ignorance, traffic, and Johnnies*. The things he loves are being single-focused and working on our boat. Both occupations can last forever... He also likes hiking, listening to good music, and just chilling. His biggest passion is sailing, and that's what he is doing right now. For this exciting trip south, he is accompanied by his two beloved dogs Kali and Darwin, and his wonderful girlfriend Liesbet.
*A Johnny is a macho wannabe, revving his engine, and trying to attract attention with a modified car and/or loud music. If this person is Latino, Johnny is pronounced in Spanish.
It's Liesbet
Liesbet is from Belgium and still speaks English with a little bit of an accent. Her name is pronounced "Leezbett", but since a lot of people don't really get that, they call her all kinds of things. Americans like their abbreviations, so it's way easier to just call her Lb (also meaning lazy butt).
Her biggest passion is traveling, and... trying new things. That's how she ended up with Mark, and on this boat. She's pretty flexible, adventurous and easy-going; a must for her kind of life. Some people call her "crazy", but let's just stick with "different".
She adores Kali and Darwin, and actually likes all animals, except mosquitoes, the only living creatures she purposefully kills. There's not much that she really hates, other than rudeness, cruelty, hypocrisy, and helplessness. Oh, and sometimes Mark's single-focusness.
She's all excited about the prospect of seeing new places from another perspective (the water), and hanging out with dolphins, and other wildlife. Although, she does miss living in a camper, but that's part of her laziness.
It's Darwin
Darwin is an Australian Shepherd mix, with a pretty tail, and handsome face. He's eight years old, but behaves like he's one. This "pup" is still very playful, a little dumb sometimes (in a doggie way), but knows darn well how to steal your heart. He can be so funny, rolling over in the grass, being eager to do tricks, making funny noises and looking very innocent.
Darwin hates to get his toes wet, especially after it rained on the grass. He also doesn't like to be rinsed off, have his nails cut or get a brushing.
He loves to annoy his sister Kali, nipping her or grabbing her leg to get her to play. Or sometimes just chewing on her. He also likes being chased by other dogs, retrieving toys from the air, water, and floor, digging holes in the sand, swimming, hipping you with his wet butt, licking good smelling air, eating treats, and wagging his tail. But, most of all he loves to be with us, whatever we do. He's a happy boy!
It's Kali
Our special girl is also an Australian Shepherd mix, with a fluffy tail. We think she is part Collie, since she's pretty tall, and white with brown spots. Her face is very cute. She survived an awful disease as a puppy, and used that strength through her whole life. Kali is already ten years old now, but she covers that up very well. She still appeases Darwin once in a while by giving him some playtime, but is getting slower every day.
Kali is obsessed with balls, sometimes a little too much. She loves human food, but is not allowed to have any. Except on her birthday, when a deliciously cooked steak awaits her. She likes to sniff and stroll around, doing her thing, knowing that we're around. Rolling around in the grass is one of her favorite things, but what she likes the most is being in the water. She can literally wake in it for hours, wagging her tail, pawing rocks or digging for imaginary things, occasionally sticking her whole face under the water surface, and telling us how much she likes doing this. That high pitch bark gets old after a while, though. She is terrified by thunderstorms and fireworks, or everything producing a loud boom. She also doesn't like fake grass.
Kali and her unrelated "brother" Darwin are well-traveled puppies, and of all the Central American countries, they liked Mexico , Belize, and Costa Rica the best. Why? There are lots of beaches, calm water, and no leash law!
Disaster struck in our happy family, just when we were ready to explore and have fun in the "real Caribbean". Kali died in Fajardo, Puerto Rico, on December 26th, 2008. To understand what happened, read the blog "Goodbye, Sweet Girl" of January 2009. We all miss her very very much.
Around 10 pm, we finally settled at home. It was long dark by now, and my impression of the area would have to wait till morning. Mark kept checking our lines, while I unpacked my bags, showed all the goodies and told a few more stories. Our VHF radio stayed on through the night, a distraction, but a good precaution, in case something happened. While the rain was pounding on the decks and the wind was shrieking through the rigging, we fell asleep, knowing that we were well-secured and making lots of electricity with the newly installed wind generator.
We woke up to a quiet and calm morning. The water was very mucky, even darker than normally, and full of debris. We were surrounded by sticks, leaves, pieces of tree trunks and garbage. The air was crisp, the strength of the sun bearable. All the sailboats around us were still where they were supposed to be. I took a little dinghy ride around the harbour, to get a feel for what was going on. In two places, a whole group of colourful fishing boats was tied to the mangroves. Not much else was going on. We heard the wind had peaked to 50 knots that night, but we didn’t believe 
it, since our wind generator never turned off. Something it would do when the wind reaches a speed of 35 knots. We might have been a bit more protected than the other boats, but still… The fortunate thing was that we had been situated out of Ike’s path. He turned south over 
a lot of hassle for Mark and friends to move our boat to the mangroves and secure her with five lines and three anchors. It also took us a couple of days to get re-anchored elsewhere in the bay and deal with all the muddy lines, anchor chain and anchors. But, with the storm came a few days of cooler weather, something we all craved. That was almost worth all the time, effort and bug bites accompanying the move to the mangroves. Almost!
