Curare's Adventures

World Cup Regatta in Valdivia, Chile

The Club de Yates Valdivia is the oldest yacht club in Chile, celebrating their 100th anniversary this year.  Part of these celebrations included hosting the first World Cup regatta for the Pirate class sailboat. This is a very big event for the club and the crew of Curare had the opportunity to partake in the many events of the regatta. 

The Pirata (in Spanish) is a small, 5 metre long by 1.6 metre wide velero similar to the Flying Junior.  The boat was originally designed in 1934 for the German youth to learn sailing techniques and has a large following worldwide.  The Royal Canadian Sea Cadets also use the Pirate class as a training sailboat.  With a full mainsail and a fractional rig jib the boats sport 10 m² of sail area and can fly a 10 m² spinnaker.  At a measured weight of 218 kg, the boats are lively performers.

The Pirate World Cup Regatta was held from January 12 to 21, 2012 with a limit of 50 entrants.  There were numerous European participants including Austria, Germany, Great Britain, Hungary, Switzerland, and Turkey. Of course Chile and neighbouring Argentina, with their strong German heritage, had multiple entrants in the event.  The race schedule included two to three races per day with a lay day in the middle.  The regatta was run on a points system using the International Pirate Class Racing Rules.  Points are assigned based on your position over the line, so the boat with the fewest points wins.

Three race venues were available depending on current and wind conditions: on the Valdivia River right in front of Marina Estancilla so that the crew of Curare would have a front row seat; in the shelter of Isla Mancera (where we first anchored Curare after our passage from Easter Island) at the mouth of the river; and in Bahia Corral which is open to the winds and swell of the Pacific Ocean.  Other than on the practice day, all races were run on windward-leeward in Bahia Corral.  However, with wind over current conditions along the river, the five mile tow to the start meant a very wet ride for everyone.

When one of the skippers was unable to race due to an injury, G had the opportunity to participate in the races for one day.  It was an excruciatingly long wait for the course to be set up, as the Race Committee deliberated exactly where the windward leg should go in the frequently changing conditions.  After a two hour delay the 10 minute flag was raised.  With 45 boats converging on the short start line, there was a lot of adrenaline flowing as everyone wanted the favoured end.  We managed to fend off from other competitors by yelling “Agua” and crossed over in fine position.  Unfortunately with all of the  jostling, a restart was called.  We didn’t fare as well on the next two starts but did finish the races in the middle of the pack at 27 and 28, respectively. Everyone got to rehash the races at the end of the day back at Marina Estancilla where the local artisanal brewer provided abundant refreshments.

It's been exciting to be among these world class racers, participating in the regatta events and helping repair broken stays, sails and hulls between the races.  While not quite an America's Cup event, the Valdivia Yacht Club sponsored a great regatta and provided all participants a perfect venue for world cup racing.

The first Pirate World Cup trophy was taken by a German registrant, followed closely by a Chilean team.  In fact five Chilean boats were in the top 10 showing that there is strong competition among this spirited little training boat.

My fun filled trip

After more than 7 months ashore I have finally made it back to my floating home but it was not an easy trip. I knew something was up in October when one of the uprights took me to the doctor to have me poked and prodded and then she took me again in December, and I wasn't even feeling sick. Even though I claim to hate these doctor visits I secretly like them because I usually get a handful or two of tasty treats. My mouth is watering just writing about them. But back to the story.

One rainy day in early January my plastic dog crate was loaded into the car and I was chauffeured to the airport. I actually thought I was going on another trip - but I was wrong. This excursion was merely to determine if my crate was adequate. I flew from Chile to Vancouver in this exact same crate so as far as I was concerned this was a waste of my time but no one lets me decide things for myself - I have to do what the uprights want. At the airport I walked into the crate to show the man that there was a lot of room but he said it was too small. Did I mention that this was only 30 hours before my flight to Toronto? My upright was getting rather tense and upset so to show my sympathy I got diarrhea and started throwing up. After 20 minutes or so the man returned with a stinky wooden crate that had been used by a dog that came to Vancouver from Australia. This was deemed to be larger but I don't think it was, I could not curl up and there was a huge water bucket that I kept bumping my head into.

On January 4 my upright roused me out of bed at 0530 and we went for a rainy walk. Then she loaded her bags into the car, put me in the back and off we drove. We got to the cargo depot at 0635, and I waited in the car while she went into arrange my shipment. She was gone a long time and when she came back for me she was crying. A less than pleasant person at the Cargo desk had told her that there was an embargo on flying cute little dogs like me during this time period, even though she had a booking number and this flight was arranged back in October. However I knew my upright is very determined and can be persuasive so after much talking and tears and waving of arms I was finally allowed on board, and she was too.

When I got out of my crate I was not back in Chile where I had expected to go,  but I was in Toronto. How exciting to run around in the snow. We stayed overnight with Linda's cousin and wife and I was supposed to socialize with my two large dog cousins. No way was I going to let them tell me what to do, even though it was their house and the big guy lent me his jacket. I growled my way onto one of their cushions, ate my portion of their treats and took the best spot on the carpet. I think they understood that I was the top dog. This day was all about me after all!

All too soon we loaded ourselves back into the car and drove off one more time, back to the airport. I thought that maybe I would get a better crate, one with more room inside, but I was wrong. The upright had arranged to leave the smelly thing overnight at the airport and all too soon I was back inside. As she walked out of the building I cried really loud so she would know how upset I was and maybe she would return to rescue me. But she didn't.

Next thing I know I am inside of the plane, then I am taken off the plane. What is going on??  Some woman I did not know came to collect me and brought me to a different house. Maybe I should not have cried so loudly, maybe my upright has given me away, maybe I will never see her again, maybe..... I was so worried but at least I got fed. (Meanwhile the plane had taken off and Linda was not told that Jessie was no longer aboard until 30 minutes into the flight. Jessie had been removed from the plane because the heated cargo area was not working and she would have turned into a Popsicle. Hooray for the cargo people noticing this malfunction but Boo to them for not telling the owner sooner.) I had to stay outside all of the next day without a jacket and there was snow on the ground. The day before I thought snow was exciting, but without the loaner jacket it was cold and nasty. How do dogs live in a climate like this?

When it got dark I went back to the airport and was put back into the terrible crate. I still hated being inside but this time I didn't cry, I kept very quiet. It worked because soon I was flying south and at the other end both uprights were there to greet me. We walked out of the building towards a car and left the terrible crate behind. It was probably the happiest day of my life.  Now I'm back in charge of things on Curare, demanding my walks, treats and kibble.  Amazingly enough, I almost always seem to get what I want.  I guess the uprights like me.  Maybe I'll stick around and entertain them awhile longer.

Hotel - motel

A motel in Latin America is very different from those you encounter in North America.  When driving through British Columbia there are numerous motels lining the sides of the roads leading into every town you drive through – very normal, sometimes seedy, sometimes rundown but still generally normal motels.

Throughout Latin America, from Mexico to Chile, a motel has a totally different connotation.  While these motels are similarly located on the outskirts of towns, they are very secluded and well hidden from view.  The drive in is separated from the drive out and once inside the parking spaces and motel rooms are hidden behind curtains or garage doors.  You don't register and you do not meet anyone.  These motels are where latinos go for their secret love affairs! 

It’s a somewhat strange and foreign concept, not the love affairs, but the hideaway motels.  I guess with such large and extended families it is difficult to quietly have an affair in your own home or local hotel.  But is there really that many affairs going on that every town can support a half dozen love palaces?  Apparently so.

On his drive up to Santiago to collect the crew inbound from Canada, Geoff had a difficult time finding places to stay.  One night was spent in a “hospedaje”, essentially a bed and breakfast kind of place with such low doorways he cracked his head on it and the dogs barking all night kept him awake.  The next night was spent at a hostal which was probably the worst flea ridden hole he has stayed in since backpacking in India.  Nearing Santiago and knowing what the cost of a hotel is there, Geoff was on the lookout for comfortable accommodations.  Seeing a “hotel-motel” sign with the name El Refugio, not Lover’s Lane or L’amor, he decided to check the place out.  For little more than the cost of the previous sketchy rooms, this motel room was luxurious with a large comfortable and clean bed, hot and cold running water and a TV - oh and mirrors on the ceiling!  The place just felt creepy knowing what it was all about.

It turned out to be a perfectly fine quiet place to get a comfortable night’s sleep.  And judging by the limited traffic through the place, the Latino libido may not be everything it’s thought to be.

Marine Ways

During our travels to various countries over the past four years we have hauled Curare out of the water in some interesting places using some rather suspect equipment.  We generally try to haul out once per year to check all under water thru hulls, clean the hull, apply anti-fouling paint and on more than one occasion make emergency repairs.  In Mexico the Travel lift in Guaymas had some very disconcerting bald tires with steel bands exposed.  Oh, and the very skinny water at the slip required comfort in dealing with mud.  In Costa Rica, the chain driven Travel Lift hoist, while rated at 25 tons, had the tires go flat lifting Curare’s svelte 10 tons, not to mention the 5 knot current at the entrance to the lift out slot that required  dexterity and line handling to manoeuver into.

So when it came time to haul out Curare after her several months of sitting in the Rio Valdivia there really was only one choice.  That was to use the marine railway at the Club de Yates Valdivia.  We had seen several boats of our size hauled out there as repairs and cleaning were completed so it made good sense to do the same for Curare.  The difficulty here was that we didn’t quite understand how the system worked.  Helpful cruisers suggested tying off to the cradle arms as tight as possible to prevent the boat from tipping over (potential disaster lifting the whole rail car off the bed!).  However no one really explained that the stern lines had to be slack in order to allow for the slope of the ramp.  So after three attempts with all the lines taught and Curare suspended on her tail by stern lines that caused her to pivot in the cradle, Geoff finally got it figured out correctly and with a spider web of lines, supported Curare vertically in the rail car without any of the cradle arms touching her sides.  Interesting technique!

We’re not sure if this was the cause or just the regular way that things are conducted but the workers slipped the brake off and Curare literally hurtled backwards at a tremendous speed towards the water.  Fearing the rudder would snap on impact with the water, Geoff screamed (possibly high pitched girly one since workers reacted quickly!) and the railway stopped before burying Curare into the mud.  With not too much more effort we were back in the water floating on the low water lines with everything operational and ready for another season of cruising.  Geoff however is still trying to get over his sore throat.

School’s Out for Summer

It took me a few days to realize why all the schools I walked past in Valdivia had a pile of chairs hanging off the fence and stacked in front of the entrance.  I gather this is the local way of expressing your feelings of getting out of school for the summer holidays.

Christmas in Valdivia (and Canada)

Merry Christmas everyone from the crew of Curare. 

Geoff spent Christmas day at Marina Estancilla in Valdivia working on a few boat chores, touring the river in the newly inflated dinghy and finishing it off with a wonderful lamb barbeque put on by the marina caretaker and his family and friends.

It seems strange to have classic iconic North America Christmas paraphernalia decorating houses and malls here.  While the people are familiar with snow its odd to have images of snowmen and frosty flakes hanging in windows on one of the hottest days of the year.  And the Santa Claus in the mall with the lineup of children was verging on bizarre.  The mad rush to buy groceries and presents the day before Christmas seems to be a global event.

Meanwhile Linda and Jessie spent Christmas in a different time zone a few thousand miles away. While G was feasting on roasted lamb L was busy preparing a Christmas dinner for eight. The entire family celebrated at L's younger sister's house, the first time the family has been together for Christmas since 2006. Of course we all missed our mom, grandma and wife but it wasn't as difficult as I imagined. Even Jessie got to participate, mostly by getting in everyone's way, but mainly to help with the leftovers.

Best wishes to all for a happy holiday time.

Austral Summer Solstice

Yesterday was the longest day of the year in the south.  Here in Valdivia, at 39⁰ 51’ S latitude, the sun came up at 0620 and left us at 2120 giving more or less a full 15 hours of daylight.  It rained off and on throughout the day so there wasn't full on sunshine and the temperature only reached a high of 18⁰, kind of coolish for the first day of summer - but it wasn't so different than a first summer's day in Vancouver.  Unfortunately the clouds rolled in again at dusk so there wasn’t even a colourful sunset to watch.

Lately, every afternoon,  the winds pick up from the southwest and blow strongly up the river.  This coincides with an ebb tide making for some boisterous conditions at the dock.  At the Marina Estancilla we are fairly protected from direct hits of the 25+ knots of wind but we still get some of the chop which causes Curare to frolic at the ends of her mooring lines.  I just have to be extra careful and plan on the surges when cutting out pieces for our new counter tops.

Back to Curare again

Geoff returned to Curare just over a week ago to start preparations for getting under way as soon as the remainder of the crew arrives early in January.  The weather has been mostly co-operative for the ongoing boat chores with daytime temperatures ranging from high teens to mid-20’s Celsius on most days.  It’s still cool at night though getting down to 5 degrees.

Besides the usual cleaning, sorting and storing we’ve got a lengthy but not extensive list of tasks to undertake.  Some tasks involve dismantling of other equipment, such as removing the stove to replace the arborite counter.  Others, like varnishing require keeping the dust (and dog hair) under control.  Everything requires tools which tend to get spread out all over the place.  So it’s best for the majority of the repairs and maintenance to be done with only one person on board.

Curare is not the only one going through spring cleaning.  The Marina Estancilla has been a bee hive of activity for weeks.  They’ve installed seven new flag poles (and since the only two liveaboards are Canadians, we got to express our patriotism), built a boat launch, installed new lights and lots more.  This is all in preparation for the World Cup Sailing competition that the Valdivia Yacht Club is hosting in mid-January.   The boats being sailed in the races are a one design 5 metre class called “Pirat” (sic) that were designed in Germany in 1938 and have a large international following.  The yacht club manager has already received applications from participants in 16 countries and they expect to have over 60 competitors in total.  This is a big deal for this little yacht club.  There are three venues for racing, depending on local conditions.  Course 1 is on the river directly in front of Marina Estancilla, Course 2 would be in behind Isla  Mancera at the mouth of the river and Course 3 is in Bahia Corral at the entrance to the Pacific Ocean.  This should be an exciting time with some very competitive racing in a challenging venue.  For more information, including the Notice of Race, visit the Club de Yates Valdivia website.

Bloqueo

Blockades (bloqueo in Spanish) are a way of life in Bolivia.  Anyone and everyone with the slightest issue about anything at all starts a bloqueo.  Since coming to Bolivia we have been affected by these blockades on a weekly, if not daily, basis.

 The first protest was by a group of indigenous people that were upset, rightfully so, with the construction of a highway through a national park.  They marched across the country, became known as the marchistas, had sit-ins around the city parks in La Paz and put up bloqueos. Blockades in La Paz virtually brought the city to a stand still during the day, traffic couldn’t move at all and the only way to get around was to travel very early or very late.  On one trip the bloqueos meant that G had to wait seven hours at the El Alto airport. The marchista protests coincided with the Occupy Movement that swept through North America, but the marchistas were more successful.  After nearly three weeks of protesting their cause was recognized and President Evo Morales halted the road construction.

  Another blockade happened on the main highway between the cities of Oruro and Potosi.  This bloqueo was a dispute over the boundaries of a limestone quarry, with both sides wanting the boundary moved for their benefit. Although the protesters allowed some vehicles to pass through on an arbitrary and random basis the blockade created havoc for transportation of goods and people.  People travelling from La Paz would have to get off their bus and walk five km past the blockade and hope to find another bus to get into Oruro.  Supplies of fuel and food became low which resulted in long lineups at the gas stations waiting for fuel to get delivered, and hoarding of available food stuffs.  This road blockade ended after one month (more or less) but the underlying dispute was left unresolved so without a doubt there will be further blockades in the future.

On one occasion, while we were visiting the central district of La Paz a blockade sprang up right in front of us.  We don’t know for sure what the cause was, but the signs and banners stated things about workers and rights.  Numerous, very loud, attention grabbing, fire crackers accompanied the chanting of slogans, and a large battalion of riot police were on hand in case things turned violent.  We walked around this blockade, as did everyone else, and eventually found a taxi that wasn’t caught up in the traffic snarl to take us back to our district.

In general the bloqueos are not violent, but when students in El Alto blockaded the streets demanding more money for education things became ugly and  the news reported numerous arrests and minor injuries.  

During the few months we were in Bolivia we knew about 14 serious blockades and undoubtedly there were many more that we were not aware of.  Blockades are so frequent that it’s a great excuse for being late wherever you go in La Paz – “Sorry I’m late, I got caught in a bloqueo!" It’s a way of life here and allows people to express their concerns without resorting to outbreaks of violence.

El Alto, Bolivia

We have flown in to and out of the El Alto airport a number of times while staying in La Paz. The airport is approximately 10 km from the city center but is 390 meters higher in elevation. At 4050 meters, it is the world's highest international airport.

The larger planes need almost 5 km of runway to lift off, and must land at twice their sea level velocity to compensate for the lower atmospheric pressure. Stopping distances are much greater too and the planes are equipped with special tires to withstand the extreme forces involved.

On clear days the views from the airport, and from the plane, are fantastic. Snowy, triple peaked, Mt Illimani (6402m) looms in the distance and other lesser peaks seem close enough to touch. Directly below the plane is the city of El Alto and the soaring white spires of dozens of churches, all built by the German priest, Padre Obermaier.

El Alto, the community, is considered the Aymara capital of the world  and has a 5% to 6% growth rate per year. Since 1952, El Alto's population has grown from 11,000 to 95,000 in 1976, 307,000 in 1985 and 650,000 in 2001. Today, it is estimated that the population is more than 1,000,000, with 81% identifying as indigenous, predominately Aymara. The average age of this young city is 22 and 60% of the population are under 30 years of age.This spread out suburb on the altiplano, lurking above La Paz, is a melting pot for campesinos (subsistence farmers) and people from all around the country. Rarely do you see a western dressed women walking on the streets, all of them wear chola attire.

Everything about El Alto is stunning: the scenery, the people and the airport. I can think of no other place in the world with such an awesome combination.  And of course this is where the local tradesmen construct every sort of imaginable item: from bedroom furniture to chicken rotisseries to all of the reconstructed parts needed to keep the thousands of taxis and buses mobile.  It's a fascinating sub-culture of La Paz.