Commandeered to Cuba

[sanibel sailor]

The OP hasn't been here since post #32. He's probably not offended by subsequent posts nor getting our helpful advice if he doesn't log in. Not that there's been much great advice about his initial dilemma, that is - retrieving his boat.

[ben2go]

Originally Posted by CarinaPDX

Most of this thread is armchair antics. The man came here for advice. Of course we did not get the whole story, and it was an odd one as far as it did go. But suggesting everything from mental illness (either or both parties) to drug smuggling is offensive, and seems to have chased the OP away. This is not the first time that rude insinuations have done so. It serves no purpose as it probably wasn't well received by the OP and it meant that we may never know what happened. Great way to welcome new members...

Greg

I agree.

Originally Posted by lituya1617

Yes, the Cal 29 has a large hatch over the v-birth. Usually, this hatch has a Lexan cover (by now the original acrylic cover would have had to be replaced) and anyone "trapped" in the v-birth area would have an easy exit through the hatch. Of course, the hatch could be tied closed from the deck, I suppose, but it is really strange this detail was not mentioned. Indeed, the entire tale is akin to something down the rabbit hole.

True on all points but I don't think anyone would think to tie the hatch closed unless caught at sail in bad weather with a hatch that won't latch closed.

Originally Posted by Poche

I think the OP said he was trapped for four days down below. Can't imagine being in a Cal 29 V berth for that long. What about food and water?

Nope and good point. I thought he said three days. Either way your point is valid.

Originally Posted by mvweebles

The heck with the inflows. What about the outflows? Yeesh. Really does sound like the premise for a 1980s horror movie, huh?

LMAO! Yeah I thought about that. I knew the Cal29 had an outside head. That V birth would have been a horror movie after a man was locked in there for 4 days.

[valhalla360]

Originally Posted by CarinaPDX

The man came here for advice.

The oddity makes one question if that's why he came here.

Another question 4 days in the tropics in a sealed sweat-box of a cabin (or else why didn't he go out the hatch) with no water...The general rule of thumb is 3 days survival without water but in a hot sweaty environment at the least I would have expected him to need hospitalization. Something tells me the Cubans would take that into account.

[dreuge]

What could make this a plausible story? Guy on Guy sexual harassment.

I could see some guy freaking out, sailing the boat to the closest land, and jumping in a dinghy rowing to shore as quickly as possible. A Sailor's me-too.

[boatman61]

I thought he said he locked himself in the cabin with canned food, water, speargun and knife..
As for the hatch is that not over the heads area between the door to the v berth and the sliding door to the saloon.
Anyways.. A weird tale to be sure.

[tomfl]

Originally Posted by dreuge

What could make this a plausible story? Guy on Guy sexual harassment.

I could see some guy freaking out, sailing the boat to the closest land, and jumping in a dinghy rowing to shore as quickly as possible. A Sailor's me-too.

Maybe yes, maybe no.

The thing is 'as quickly as possible' does not fit with a four day confinement with doors locked. Four days sailing to Cuba means lots of closer places were bypassed; not to mention Cuba would not be my first choice for safe haven. Seems the owner was/is a US citizen and my guess is the crew is as well. Both are being returned to the US. So why not head back to the US. Lots of boats leave Cuba and basically drift to the US; it is not a hard passage to make.

[sanibel sailor]

Look at a chart. This is eastern end of Cuba, a bit downcurrent from the Keys. Drifting, you would likely hit Iceland before Florida. The Marielitas left from well west of Havana

[Tonali99]

Originally Posted by dreuge

What could make this a plausible story? Guy on Guy sexual harassment.

I could see some guy freaking out, sailing the boat to the closest land, and jumping in a dinghy rowing to shore as quickly as possible. A Sailor's me-too.

What would make it a plausable story is more information. Or better writing.
A good human intrest story might make the news. They like that stuff.
Like how did it get so far out of hand?
How does a jib sheet get around the prop?
Why were they beating to windward against the current?
Why are we bothering with this?

[tomfl]

Originally Posted by sanibel sailor

Look at a chart. This is eastern end of Cuba, a bit downcurrent from the Keys. Drifting, you would likely hit Iceland before Florida. The Marielitas left from well west of Havana

This is just wrong and there is no way to sugar coat it.

Prevailing wind is from the East, often 15-20 knots easily overwhelming any West current. Getting anywhere close to Iceland would mean traveling North through the 3,000 islands, cays, and rocks above the water in the Bahamas. Not to mention avoiding the BDF which not only patrols for Haitians trying to illegally enter the Bahamas but is on alert not for those entering their waters with out valid tests showing no COVID-19 infection. There is also a significant USCG presence.

You really missed the point of my post.

Three or four days of sailing means passing a lot of other places to duck into; and most of them would be a lot more welcoming than where the boat would up. Cuba has few POEs and landing anywhere else is a big no no. Not to mention some out of the way place like the boat wound up; and we are still not completely sure where that was. Los Cocos was mentioned but until I looked it up I did not realize it is not close to the coast, an out of the way inland location.

Without knowing the exact course of the boat it is hard to say just where would have a better place to land. But the boat wound up in one of the worst places possible. If it had ducked in even on the North Coast of Cuba it would have been better; if the idea was to get off the boat to avoid the owner.

[RaymondR]

It's all readily explained by poor geographical situational awareness and inability to read a compass.

[valhalla360]

Originally Posted by boatman61

I thought he said he locked himself in the cabin with canned food, water, speargun and knife..
As for the hatch is that not over the heads area between the door to the v berth and the sliding door to the saloon.
Anyways.. A weird tale to be sure.

OK, I missed the part about he had time to provision the cabin before retreating...on a 29ft boat without the other guy noticing.

[Jim Cate]

So, it has now been several days since his repatriation flight should have deposited him (them?)back in the States. No further word has been seen. The fishy smell is getting stronger.

Jim

[Carl-T705]

I knew after he got in contact with Captain Ron his problems would be over.

[BlueH2Obound]

Originally Posted by Jim Cate

So, it has now been several days since his repatriation flight should have deposited him (them?)back in the States. No further word has been seen. The fishy smell is getting stronger.

Jim

Yup, and STILL, not even the Nasty Enquirer will lend credence to the story!

[Thumbs Up]

For those of you too challenged to sleuth FB on your own, here is the other party's side of the story. I have copied and pasted the following from a FB post, if this is not allowed, please remove it.

My room, 200 square foot, green, with even darker green curtains. 6 old school hospital beds, with Chinese markings, sturdy and serviceable. The food, all local and fresh, bread with cheese and youghurt for breakfast, then a hardy lunch and dinner of rice, beans, soup, and meat. Im am in holocaust style pajamas and was given flip flops. They took what rags I had for clothes, and put them in "the next place I am going", where ever that is. After a week, they took my flare gun and knives. I have been questioned several times, and answered honestly. The questions were odd at times, and incomplete. I arrived to shore under the cover of darkness in big surf. I had to time the surge of the waves just right, to lift the boat 6 foot to the top of the rocks, jump off, holding the rope, and wait for the next wave to push the boat up again. I unloaded my things quickly, then let the waves take the dinghy back out to sea. I would not be needing it again. Exhausted dirty and very hungry, i made it up to the road, and slept in the rocks. When dawn broke, I asked locals passing by on bicycles to call the police. Within a short time, many branches of government were there. They took no chances, cordoned off the area, and was approached only by medical people in full protective garb. Bleach solution was sprayed all around me. I stood, sat, and swatted at hordes of mosquitoes. I rolled the occasional cigarette, and twice i was approached to see if I was smoking weed. As the day went on, it got very hot in the sun. Im grimy and sweating, but not moving around. Finally a police officer led me to a place in the shade under a tree where he had stomped out a place for me. "The sun is fascist" he said to me in Spanish. They gave me food and water. I had one sandal, my hair and beard long and wild, my clothes dirty and torn. The hours passed as they figured out what to do with me. I had not eaten or slept in days. They dont bother locking my door anymore. They swabbed me, took blood, and gave me shots and pills. (Cleared up the shits I had) I finally got a new pen, the one at the hospital I had failed, I tried putting flame on the tip to free the ball, but tried to use it too quickly, and the tip mushed. The nurse look disappointed at the tip when she tried to fix it. Me, not knowing Spanish well, tried to explain it just did that when I was using it. Finally, many days later, the doctors came in, and told me I was covid free, and shook my hand. I was wisked away at 3 am, and driven some 600 km, not knowing where I was being taken. I was delivered to a very nice hotel overlooking the city of Havana. A place Fidel would stay now and again during the revolution. For many days I was not allowed to leave the hotel without and escort, and good reason, as the city was locked down. Only last week was it lifted, so I spent a few days wandering that beautiful city. I was deported, and today was flown to Florida.

I thought about what to do. If he came at me with the knife, he was either going swimming, or getting duct taped. I could just kill him and say he must have fallen in while I was sleeping. Its 2000 feet deep out there, and a spare anchor wrapped around his body would send him to the deep. No body, no crime, and nobody could prove otherwise. The ocean is vast and deep, and dead men tell no tales.
How did I get here, contemplating such things?
Well, last winter, having passed the Chesapeake bay, just into North Carolina on the intercostal waterway, a boat called me on the radio, after asking for permission to pass me. It quickly became evident the captain knew little of boating, as he took the wrong side of the channel markers each time. Finally he took the wrong turn away from the waterway, and headed for the ocean. I figured I would see him again, when he figured out his mistake. The next day, the fog set up thick as I have ever seen. I could barely see beyond my bow. I got as far out of the channel as I could starboard, as depth would allow, and dropped my hook to await the fog to clear. Workboats use this passage, and if one came, by the time I saw them, we might collide. From out of the fog, came his boat again, this time nearly hitting me from behind, even though I was hugging the shore out of the channel. He passes me on my starboard side, in skinny water as I was already in shallow water with maybe a foot under my keel. He went just a bit more ahead, and dropped anchor in the middle of the channel. This being a dangerous thing to do, I reached him by radio, and advised he move out of the way. We chatted a bit, and he asked if he could follow me, when the fog lifted. So we continued on , me taking the lead. For the next months, we made our way down the coast, each having to stop for a few weeks for repairs, and waiting for the other. I came to know Bill, and learned his story. Him, 65 years old, retired from a career as a head chef on cruise ships, now with a home in Costa Rica, had always dreamed of having a boat, and sailing the seas back home. This was his first boat, and did not know how to sail, or even raise his sails, was now on a trip from the Chesapeake to costa Rica, solo. I figured I could teach him what I could, to help him along. He, being a great cook, often made us dinner. I avoided many invitations, as I like my own space, and my own cooking. But day after day, we would raise anchor, and make if 40 or more miles south before dark, and anchor again. His politics were hard right, and he loved Mr trump so much, and any who did not were just jealous he claimed, and liked the term "dirty arab" and thought himself well informed from fox News and rush Limbaugh he listened to each day. Facts be damned. I did not hold this against him, as stupid can't be cured, and I wanted him to have the skills to complete his journey. We made our way south, stopping in towns along the way for fuel and supplies. We skipped by Georgia on the ocean, where I showed him how to raise and use his sails and winches. The intercostal there winds along, and the weather finally getting warmer being that far south, made Ocean travel easier, and saved many miles. We entered Florida by the ocean, having passed Georgia by sea. We went outside, and inside through Florida, stopping in Miami to see a friend, and finally made it to the Keys. It took me all winter to make it this far, from nearly the Canadian border in Vermont. The virus struck about this time, and we anchored for two months in the keys. All along he kept trying to get me to sail to costa rica with him. All along I declined, for my own reasons. At the last moment, I agreed, put my boat into storage, and boarded his vessel for the journey.
The first hour, he started complaining, first about my shoulder bag bag in the cockpit when I was steering the boat. I like to lean against it, and it had all my things in it. I like it handy. He then plotted a course, with no regard for shipping lanes or obstacles, and demanded we stick to it. The wind was dead against us, and he hated tacking as one must to sail upwind. "You and your tacking" he complained, having never tacked. We each took 4 hour turns at the tiller, making little progress, and even less during his turn, not knowing how to sail, and having no experience. Each time he rose for his turn, he only opened his mouth to complain and bitch at me. A few days passed, and I asked him to please not speak to me, if he had nothing nice to say. I was loving the trip, with the exception of him being on it, and took long turns at the helm. I saw whales, and a group of baby dolphins swimming alongside. And let me tell you, a baby dolphin is about the cutest thing you could ever see. One morning, when I took the helm, I see he is following his course, but in shallow water near the bahamas, headed towards many obstacles, such as exposed reefs, islands, sandbars and rocks. He told me to keep this course, of which I told him I would not do, he told me not to adjust the sails, that I would not do either. I'm not getting sailing instruction from one who does not know how to sail, nor sailing the boat into rocks. My chartplotter showed all these obstacles, but his did not, so I spent the next many hours correcting course to safe deep water. When his turn came, he saw i had changed course as I told him I would and was furious. He said "its my boat, ill go that way if I want to." I tried to show him how dangerous his course was, and pointed out how dangerous this was. I explained if we held his course, we would hit rocks and shallows, and maybe sink the boat. He said "I don't care". I tried to show him on the maps why we could not go that way. He did not care, nor listen, as it was from my chartplotter that showed the dangers, his did not. I told him I would not allow him to take us that way. He turned the boat around, to head back around the light house that marked the safe way through, to head down the dangerous way. This is when I took the tiller from his hands. "Is this a mutiny?" He asked. I said call it what you want. His face twisted in anger, powerless to stop me. He tried calling the Cubans for emergency help, he tried contacting passing ships to rescue him. I took away the radio mic. He tried using the handheld I gave him. He then took all the food into his cabin, and guarded it with a knife. (I had the gaff and the boathook, and many other weapons myself, but I did not want to go there, I could squash this guy like a bug) he told me, "you have to sleep sometime." So the next few days 4 or 5 maybe, I stayed at the chose helm, with no food, and only dozing off now and again. I offered him a nug, several times, but he only glared at me, seething, but he also was holding the booze. We were stocked, but only with violence could I get it.. (i had herb though... heh heh) he would not help. I could take the food by force if needed, but I had a few nutritional bars I had dumpsterdove in the keys. I chose hunger over violence. The boom yoke broke in heavy seas during a storm, rendering the mainsail unusable, but kept going under jib. Then, in another storm, bills knots holding the jib went. The front deck, not a safe place in bad conditions, unlike my boat. I had to let it flap. I fired up the engine, with bill yelling at me to lower the rpms to near idle. I told him to shut the **** up. I went closer to the cuban coast, a plan forming. I calculated our fuel consumption, fuel remaining, and saw we were 10 gallons short to make it to Haiti, both sails ****ed, the lines tangled high on the mast. I could find a place to anchor, go up the mast and fix them, but **** bill. So, I pulled the dinghy along side while underway, loaded my bag, set the auto pilot, and cruised the cuban coast to a spot i saw on the map, where the wind direction would blow me ashore. I hopped in the dinghy, and with compassion, called Bill to take control of his boat. I jumped in his dinghy, and set off for shore. He came to the helm, circled around as if trying to hit me, but in the dark, and big waves could not see me. I could have not called him to the helm, and sent him out while he was sleeping., but why be a dick. He anchored there, I ashore, is how, the cuban govt greeted us, and I got my story out first. He made an insane navigation decision, horded the food, pulled a knife, rather than ****ing him up, "escaped" to Cuba. Its all true. They quarantined him on his boat, and would not let him leave in it. He flew back on the same plane I did, and he walked past me in the same hotel I was in, and , said eat **** and die. I replied "enjoy your meal, with a big smile, at the boarding gate flying out, he turned from the front seating area, he saw i was to be on the same plane, andt glared at me, and I blew him a kiss. Oh, and the cubans asked me about his paperwork, I said I assumed he had it, and said, ask me about it. So, they might have siezed his boat, for not being documented. I dont know, but I sure as **** had nothing to do with it. I, kept my honor through everything. I was not going to let him lead us to disaster.