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Three weeks have passed since our dinghy tour of Chimana
Grande, and once again we're suffering from marina fever.
It's time for another dinghy adventure. For our second outing,
we decide to visit some rather impressive Venezuelan "drunks."
Five miles northwest of Puerto La Cruz are the islands of
La Borracha (Drunk Woman), El Borracho (Drunk Man), and Los
Borrachitos (The Little Drunks). La Borracha is the largest
island with rock cliffs soaring 1200 feet from sea level.
Once again, Pete on Neptune's Pride is our tour guide,
carrying the crew of Zephyrs. Also joining us are Panacea
and Chill.
Our convoy heads out just after the morning VHF net. Since
having the dinghy bottom cleaned two weeks ago, we've left
it sitting in the water. In that short interim, a thick colony
of coral worms has blossomed on the bottom, which now resembles
the fringe on a table lamp.
Besides several bags containing our food, towels, and snorkel
gear, we're carrying our gas jug and a second one for Neptune's
Pride. As we pass the No Wake buoy, Nick gives the 15-hp
Mercury full throttle while I sit on the bow to help us get
on plane. No luck. I guess I should have had a second helping
at dinner last night. We pass off one gas jug and then the
second to the other dinghies, and still we cannot plane out.
While Neptune's Pride and Chill zip ahead, we
slowly plow across the bay in the company of Panacea,
also hindered by a dirty bottom.
We finally reach a coral-fringed anchorage on the northwest
side of La Borracha. A lopsided fishing hut sits just behind
the white sand beach, with a statue of a mustached hombre
greeting visitors. I can't wait to pull on my snorkel gear
and enjoy some clear water for a change. While I swim off
in search of a coral reef, Nick straps on his snorkel and
mask and busies himself scraping the reef off the bottom of
our dinghy.
On the west side of the anchorage, I'm pleasantly surprised
to find a small, but prolific elkhorn coral reef with an occasional
brain coral. Spiral Christmas tree worms of blue, red, and
purple adorn the yellow coral branches. The familiar crunch-crunch
of tropical fish feeding on coral sounds like music to my
ears. We haven't been snorkeling since the Tobago Cays--way
too long. Curious damsel fish swim up to my snapping fingers
and then dart away. Several varieties of parrot fish weave
through the shallow reef while a school of jacks hurry past.
A spotted moray eel, curled atop a coral head, snarls at a
pesky damsel fish. When I turn around to get a better look,
the eel vanishes without a trace.
I swim back to find Nick has almost finished cleaning the
dinghy bottom. He gives the dinghy a test drive, and it skims
lightly across the surface just like it should. We reclaim
our gas jug, noting that our fuel tank is low after the trip
across the bay on a dirty bottom. We dry off and join the
others under a shady tree for a picnic lunch.
After lunch, we motor around the island with the other dinghies.
Towering cliffs of striated rock soar from turquoise depths.
Intriguing caves and sheltered grottos lure us in and inspire
thoughts of romance amid their secluded walls. The terrain
is similar to what we saw on our trip around Chimana Grande.
These are not the lush tropical islands we enjoyed in the
Eastern Caribbean, but they are just as breathtaking in the
starkness of their grandeur. The Borrachos are noted for one
unique feature: vampire bats. Sailors anchoring here overnight
are advised to close or screen their hatches.
By midafternoon we're flying across the bay back to Puerto
La Cruz on our spotless dinghy bottom. Just outside the green
and red channel markers, the Mercury sputters to a stop. The
other dinghies gather around while Nick refills our tank,
and then we all reluctantly head back to the marina and its
murky, brown water. It's been a wonderful day exploring another
beautiful Venezuelan island. We promise to return soon when
marina life once again becomes too dreary.
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