Guest blog from Randy and Hayes

Working out a visit on the Crossroads seemed to be a lost cause for the McPherson’s. Different Spring Breaks, me an overworked, underpaid educator trying to carve out time for the trip, a reluctant wife (she really didn’t want to pump her poop…(you have to have been on the Crossroads to fully appreciate that one) and a voyage that was fast coming to an end was working against us. But earlier this year things fell into place. My 19 year old planned a trip to Malibu with his girlfriend, Karen (my spousal unit) decided to sacrifice and work things out for Hayes (11) and me to make the trip. I took vacation and he skipped school and we finalized the plans. They say to fully appreciate the good you have to experience the bad. Our trip down was the bad…no it was a trip from hell.

Friday, March 09, 2007. Day 1

We first were delayed in Memphis for an hour because they broke the pilots seat. I kid you not. In Miami we kept getting delay announcements. They had lost the crew that was to take us on to San Juan. This is American Airlines and they can’t find a pilot! After bringing in a group from Orlando we thought we were getting underway but noooooo! After going through all the checks they made an another announcement that we had unbalanced fuel. I guess that is important because we sat in the plane for another hour. At this point we had lost three and one half hours.
Logistics, I discovered, are more complicated when you are meeting someone on a sailboat. Michele had found us a contact that would drive us from San Juan to Fajardo where we would catch a ferry to Culebra where Glenn and Michele would meet us for a short hike and then a dinghy ride to Crossroads. We found our ride, Henri, easily at the airport. On a good day it is about an hour’s drive to Fajardo and we had less. Henri was game to try (what choice did we have) so off into the night we went. The last ferry of the day, Culebra II, was sitting at the gate when we arrived. Henri ran to the ticket window to get our tickets but he was told the ferry was gone. We tried to argue with them. We even showed them the ferry, the very large boat sitting in the water by the dock could hardly be missed. The ticket agent disagreed in spite of our pleas and soon he was correct. The ferry left us with our bags, nowhere to stay the night and no way to contact Glenn and Michele. Henri tried to find us a nice place to stay. Then Henri tried to find us a decent place to stay. Then Henri found us The Guest House. We had officially entered the Twilight Zone or a B grade movie, take your pick. Padro was the non-English speaking proprietor who told Henri the price for a bed for one night was $45. That was at least twice what it was worth but having no other choices we laid the cash down, Pedro held up two fingers and tossed us a key while pointing upstairs. Henri waived good bye and our last connection to our impressions of the real world drove away. I had remained calm, cool and collected for Hayes (one of my better acting jobs). I kept telling him everything would be OK and think what a great story this would be in 30 years. Then we saw the room. I’ll spare you a description other than to say it would never be mistaken for the Ritz. The TV had two fuzzy stations and Hayes watched a monster movie made in Japan and dubbed in Spanish for a while before falling to sleep from exhaustion. It was only 9 pm by then but our day had started in Memphis at 4:30am. The night was filled with the sounds of barking dogs, strange birds I could not identify, and what Hayes is convinced was the music from an ice cream truck that seemed to come around every hour or so all night long.

Day 2

Not wanting to miss the ferry. We rose at 6am reorganized the luggage for our walk (sorry no taxis would come into that neighborhood). The streets were narrow and it was hard to avoid the periodic homeless lying asleep in the bushes or the dogs and chickens that wondered by as we made our way to the docks while dragging our luggage behind. Arriving nearly two hours early we found a few hundred locals and a few tourist waiting in line to board the Culebra II. As we approached the last leg to the window we heard a cheer! It was the group who got the last tickets on the ferry. I tried pleading with whomever spoke or did not speak a word of English. Finally, I convinced them to let 50 more people on the ferry which should have gotten us on. A last minute bum rush by some locals left us at the gate once more. Luckily, I had befriended some locals who gave us info on Flamenco Airways, a charter that would fly us to Culebra for $25 a head. Two guys from California, Gary and Fernando, joined us along with our locals. The ride over in the 10 passenger Islander was very bumpy but also gave us our first view of the islands that almost made me forget the past 24 hours. The 15 minute flight gave us a picturesque view of a natural harbor that we would soon enjoy.
Landing brought a cheer from everyone in the plane but also our next disappointment. We had no way of contacting Glenn and Michele and there were no taxis available. Luckily Michele found someone to loan her a cell phone and we finally made contact. She met us at the airport and after a short walk to the dinghy, we finally got our first look at Crossroads.
Over the next few days we spent time in Dewey harbor (named after Admiral Dewey), ate at Momacita’s and the Dingy Dock restaurants, spent some time sailing, visited Culebrita with the old light house and one of the most gorgeous areas I’ve ever seen called the Jacuzzis, and spent time conking and kayaking on and around Conk Island in (what was the name of that harbor)? Hayes received lessons in navigation, piloted both dinghy and Crossroads like a natural.
Heineken sponsors a series of races throughout the Islands and we hit on one of their weekends. There were lots of boats of all shapes and sizes and a concert in Dewey that brought out tourist and locals for music and libations.

Flamenco Beach is a top 10 rated beach that features a mile long stretch of pristine fine, white sand. Vieques and Culebra were used by the US Navy for “live bomb” target practice for 50 years until 2003. The Navy turned the majority of both Islands over to the US Fish and Wildlife Service so there is no commercial development on the beaches. As you walk down the beach, you sudden upon a few odd sights. US Army tanks, slowly rusting away but that have been lovingly painted but local artist in the native style. Just beyond the fence that sections off some of the many Mangrove trees, we are told that live ordinance still lies buried just deep enough to discourage any entrepreneurs from turning the park into a tourist trap.

The weather was perfect. Temps in the low 80’s and a constant breeze kept the days warm and the nights perfect for sleeping. No week on a sailboat would be complete without a squall so Glenn ordered up a small one just so we could see a little rain and feel the boat rock in the wind. Our days were filled exploring the sun-drenched islands and the evenings spent watching the sun set, tasting the latest concoction whipped up by Glenn and Michele and battling through a card game before retiring to bed. Each night we fell asleep gazing at the stars through our hatch and woke to the sun peeking over the gently rolling ocean.

It is easy to see how people fall in love with the stretch of ocean beyond Florida southward. Life is casual and relaxed. The scenery comes straight out of an episode of Travels of the Rich and Famous, and there is just enough adventure to remind you of the tall ships that sailed the waters centuries ago. I regret it took me so long to see it and feel blessed to have shared it with Hayes, Glenn and Michele. Thanks for putting up with us.
Randy