Isla de Culebra

A juice stand: "Open Some Days - Closed Others"

Our next stop was Culebra, one of the Spanish Virgin Islands just 17 nautical miles east of Fajardo. We had been to Culebra twice already by ferry – once with my parents and once with Doug`s `boys`- so we had experienced the island as `day tourists` which by necessity or design follows a somewhat structured itinerary that goes something like this...

Get up at 6  AM and get a ride over to the ferry dock because someone in the group (that would be me) has to be in line before 7 AM in order to get tickets from the limited (about 300) number available...and it has to be before 7 AM because the package tour outfits buy tickets in blocks (and pay someone to be first in line) and you can`t pre-purchase tickets...you can only get tickets for that day`s ferry – so late arrivals miss out. Then whoever dropped you off goes back for the rest of the group and brings them and all of your snorkelling and beach gear, parks the car and hopefully brings you a coffee from the bar on the corner (who are doing a booming business for 7 AM) and maybe a fresh homemade donut from the guy selling them out of the back of his truck. 
 

The ticket office is supposed to open at 7:30, but that`s ``island time``...so don`t expect punctuality. While you wait in line you will be offered a map of the island and given the low down on a Jeep rental. There are a few ways to travel the island – jeep, golf cart, minivan/bus, taxi, bicycle or on foot. You choose based on your budget as the best beach and best snorkelling are – of course – at the opposite end of the island from the ferry dock and while the distance from ferry to beach is only about 3 km, but with your time on the island limited its better spent on the beach.

So the ticket window opens. The line moves quickly and even with the less than punctual opening you have tickets in hand just before 8 AM. Now you and your group get in line to board the ferry (which isn`t in yet). This is a very long line that starts inside the terminal (in the shade) and winds its way out and along the street (in the already blazing sun). If you are quick you might be lucky enough to end up in line inside the terminal, but you won`t get there without tickets (no groups holding a spot in line while they wait for the person with the tickets – another good reason to be in line early).

The ferry arrives and everyone boards. Most people seem to head for the upper deck, but this is a speed ferry which covers the 17 nm from dock to doc in 45 minutes as a speed that tops out around 25 knots. That`s windy...so we take a seat inside. The trip is a little `bumpy` even on the calmest of days and this keeps the crew busy cleaning up after those that succumb to sea sickness.

The ferry arrives at the dock on Culebra and the unsuspecting hoard disembarks only to find themselves trapped between a line of shops on one side and the ferry terminal on the other and face to face with a frenzied mob of hawkers all offering the `best` deal on whatever mode of transportation they represent blocking the only escape route. It’s nothing short of chaos.

Within minutes small groups of 4 to 8 corralled tourists are whisked away on golf carts and in minivans to fill out the necessary forms at the actual location of the rental outfit they chose, leaving friends and loved ones behind clutching bags and assorted beach gear as there is only room for the credit card holders in the transports to the rental places. Meanwhile those not renting something are herded onto buses heading for the beach. If you are quick you can dash into the bakery and pick up some pastries for later – while they last - and then rejoin the bands of bewildered friends and loved ones clutching beach gear and examining maps trying to sort out from where their credit card holder might emerge and the best place to stand in order to be able to jump in or on the vehicle and make a quick escape.

After about 20 minutes the first of the parade of colourful jeeps (ours was orange) and golf carts begins...drivers anxiously scanning the crowd for their group...groups straining to make out the identity of the drivers. Faces light up with recognition, voices are raised as people dart about loading themselves and their gear into vehicles while dodging oncoming vehicles with drivers more focused on scanning the crowd for their group than the road in front of them. A steady rhythm of anticipation, recognition, scurrying, loading and escaping plays out until the last group is whisked away and the street settles back into its normal sleepy pace.

The parade of vehicles streams north to Playa Flamenco, consistently voted one of the world`s best beaches. On arrival, groups vie for spots on the beach. The sand is bright white and as fine as baking flour. The water is turquoise and azure, clear and warm...perfect for swimming. Finding a spot with some shade is like winning the lottery. If you aren`t that lucky then you`d best slather on some more sun block.

If you get hungry there are snack kiosks with a wide variety of exorbitantly priced food.

When all this gets boring, hop in the vehicle and motor over to Playa Tamarindo and snorkel with the turtles grazing in the sea grass or head out to the spectacular coral reef and be entertained by its many colourful residents.

Around 4 PM the mornings rhythm starts again in reverse...although somewhat less frenzied, as groups load their stuff into their vehicles, drop the group and gear off near the ferry terminal, return the vehicle to the rental outfit and get driven back to the ferry dock to be reunited with their group and wait to board the ferry. The tourist hoard, now exhausted by sun and fun, sprawl wherever they can find shade, enjoying a beer, a fancy fruit drink or an ice cream.

The ferry loads and leaves by 5 PM. The crew is again kept busy by those prone to sea sickness. Exhausted revelers nap. The ferry arrives back in Fajardo at 5:45 and again the hoard disembarks and heads for the parking lot.

Again there is a process. One person gets in line to pay for parking...and this is where you are grateful that you were smart enough to put the parking ticket in your wallet (or wish to God you had) so you can get directly in line rather that jog back to the car to retrieve it off the dash and then jog back to the now lengthy line...while the rest of the group heads for the car and loads the gear. With encoded ticket in hand you drive for the exit, where inevitably one driver is holding up the line at the exit barrier because he hasn`t paid for parking and had the ticket encoded yet. When the shouting subsides and the issue is resolved, once again the line of vehicles, each in turn, inserts their ticket into the machine triggering the barrier to rise signalling the end to their day trip to Culebra.


We did this twice!

By boat, Culebra was a completely different experience.

The short trip to Culebra was tough – against the wind and strong currents it`s a long bumpy ride. We were glad we decided against sailing our guests over to Culebra. They would not have enjoyed the trip – at least not the one on the way there.

First we anchored off Melones Beach for a couple of days and snorkelled the reefs. Then we moved to anchor off Carlos Rosario Beach for a few more days and snorkelled the reefs. Next we moved around and anchored in Ensenada Honda – the harbour tucked up inside and surrounded by the island...and town. We stayed for a week and enjoyed the laid-back pace of town – especially before and after the daily onslaught of day-trippers. It`s as if the island itself lets out a big sigh of relief when the ferry leaves in the afternoon...or maybe is the collective sigh of the residents.
 

We filled our days with a bit of provisioning, filling the water tank, looking for a weather window, sorting out `clear out` procedures with customs, wandering the island and watching the `tourists`. As the week rolled to a close our weather window opened. We cleared out the day before departure and at first light headed out of the bay and turned our bow east – directly into the wind and current – for a slow slog to St Martin...uphill all the way.