The sail to Santiago was an overnighter with wonderful views during an almost full moon. We arrived early the next morning to a green uniform clad welcome that the larger ports seem to specialise in. Smoke polluted air wafted down from uncontrolled factories to the north. We stayed only long enough to do the formalities, and swap a few cruising tips with other boats. We had to Med-Moor and the holding is bad, so if you are coming this way, use lots of scope. Santiago is also the last port of clearance on the Southern coast of Cuba going east.

We set sail destined for the Bahamas but found to our dismay that the coastal counter current was not apparent. We made only 2.5kts into the current with the engine and full sail. We thus could not make the end of the island Punta Maisi by dawn and give ourselves half of the next day to get to Great Inagua Bahamas sailing on a beat. Instead we ducked into the tiny pocket bay of Baitiquiri where we now wait for weather. We have cleared out of Cuba and therefore are bound to the boat, I have assured the Guarda Frontiera that I will not even launch the dinghy. We are here at his pleasure, and I would hate to be expelled into what we can see is a stormy sea in the windward passage, just visible through the 60 foot gap in the cliffs that we negotiated on our way in. The wind is blowing 20-30kts here and the Aerogen is doing its price justice.

We sailed from Baitiquiri at 17h00 on Thursday 15 February, The current comes through the Windward Passage here at quite a lick. If you look at the chart you will see that there is a lot of ocean trying to go on a Carribbean holiday, and it is known to get quite lumpy in the Windward Passage. We made about 2.5 knots into the seas that mounted all night. For those of you who dont know about this sailing stuff, it has to do with momentum and opposing forces. Just as Gilana gets her skirts above the knees and starts moving, we get nailed by a 15 foot wave from the front. This almost stops us in our tracks, and the speed falls off dramatically. Unfortunately, however, the speed drop has another side effect, that of loss of dynamic stability. This is the boats resistance to rolling given the speed of the water past the hull and keel.  So the effect is compounded and the new rolling induced by being "still" in the water serves to untrim the sails, causing them to lose drive. We get over this by motorsailing. Gilana luckily had a Hundested variable pitch propellor. We are able to reduce pitch, avoiding cavitation and help keep way on (Keep going) through the waves. If you go too fast however, the boat will start pounding, getting thrown into the air by the waves as a result of her momentum. So there we were, 900 RPM on the engine which is 300 on the prop. (This rpm woulf give us 5 Knots in flat water) and 3 reefs in the Mainsl and the Storm Jib up. We have learned to sail her as a Cutter rigged Ketch now, for all points of sail to almost a run, where the inner headsl is shadowed by the main. In fact she will go better with 2 small headsl's than a large Genoa. During the night the seas and wind built till the anemometer never dropped below 25 kts. We had occasional seas of nearly 30 ft and several green water waves crashed into our stack and pack mainsail cover, running back inside the cover to dump on top of the cockpit awning, pushing it down onto the binnacle. At least one large wave boarded us and smashed the sailing dinghy against the coaming so hard that some fibreglass repairs will be needed as the gunwhale is stove in. The dinghy was very well lashed into her chocks, but the repetitive onslaught of wave after wave just seems to create slack in the lashings where there was'nt any possible, so tight were they bound.

The Moon appeared about 3 am and we would have preferred that it stay away for the sight that is gave us was not a pleasant one. Beating into these liquid mountains was quite scary, nevermind all the bravado and gung-ho attitudes, We were awestruck by the way this boatie of ours rose time and time again to bravely get over those waves. At the height of the rough stuff, we were tacking in and out on approximately 3 mile legs, our landward turn occurring at the 2 mile CPA to the easternmost point of Cuba. In the dim loom of the moon we could see huge breakers heaving and sucking themselves to destruction on the rocky lee shore, while we clawed our way away. We noticed a target on the radar and it was approaching fast, we could not distingush who or what it was as the vessel held us with a searchlight, and no navigation lights could be seen against the glare. I have my suspicions as to who they were, and they finally responded to our plea on the radio, that they should keep their distance as we were maouevering with difficulty. What had happened, was that the storm jib sheet had slipped off the sheave of the turning block, and jammed itself between the sheave and the cheek of the block. This means that we were unable to to a port tack properly, the jib was backwinded, so we pinched very close on port tack, and about 40 degrees off on Starboard. The conditions did not allow me to correct the situation as I should have. It was just not safe enough to venture out of the cockpit.

At 07h00 we reported in on the NW Carribean net that the weather forecasts were wrong once again, and our previous nights message of go-go-go was totally incorrect. We had had gusts of up to 40 kts as the mast pitched forward into the wind, amplifying the "true". By 09h00 things started settling, and in all the rough area was only 20 miles across, but it took us so long at an average of two knots. AT 10h00 I ventured out of the cockpit to bring the Storm Jib's lazy sheet around onto the cockpit primary winch, taking the strain and slacking the jammed sheet. I backfed the end of the jammed bight through the turning block and loaded the winch, cranking really hard I was able to pop the sheet out of the gap. Its hard to beleive that a 3/4" sheet can fit into a 1/4" gap but given enough tension... The sheet bears permanent scars to this day. We passed another yacht heading in the opposite direction, and advised them to bear away from the Island of Cuba, so as to avoid the countercurrent and its heaping-up of the seas.  They later reported via radio to their friends who were waiting for them in Great Inagua, and had sent them out ahead to check the seas, that the seas were indeed at least three times bigger than what was forecast. We found that the shipping in the lanes was very co-operative. We had this jammed sheet, and we were not feeling on top of the world at all. In a traffic seperation scheme, a sailing yacht has no rights at all and must give way to other vessels in the scheme. When we saw a target approaching and the EBL stayed constant we hailed the ship and explained that, although we knew we had no rights, we were having difficulty holding any other course than that we were on. Invariably, the officer of the watch told us to hold our course and he gave way to us. It is quite something to see a huge container vessel screaming down towards you at 21 knots with huge following seas being overtaken and still throwing plumes of spray, suddenly make a course change and give way to a family, seasick, tired and miserable, in a small yacht. I dont get seasick, but this was one time that I was seriousely considering speaking to george via the great white telephone, the one with the wooden lid.

We sailed right up to our anchorage in Matthewtown Great Inagua, and went ashore in the dingy to complete our clearing in procedure. Gilana, once again lay at anchor peaceful, dignified, and beautifully serene, as if to say "Oh, That was nothing" and turn bashfully away from our thankful, loving gaze.