Friday, June 29, 2007
Looking back: more on our trip with Steve of Shenanigans
For background on this story, read these two blog entries:
http://perljam.net/wandering/2007/05/528-529-colon-portobelo-and-loading.html
http://perljam.net/wandering/2007/06/530-64-portobelo-panama-to-cartagena.html
I've been needing to write up more about the disaster that was our trip with Steve Robbins on the Shenanigans, and I finally did it. Here's what prompted me:
That is awesome. I'm glad this person knew a little more about the story than what Steve said. There were certainly no drugs on board, at least anything more than motion sickness pills!
There was a good quantity of alcohol, all supplied by Steve. We actually lobbed some overboard after realizing the danger he was posing to us by being drunk and passing out often.
Here's a little better summary.
Steve's boat is nice. It's older- from the 70s, I think- but he's taken care of it. I do believe he knows what he's doing, when he's sober. It has a few broken things, but he knows what he is doing and probably got at least some of them fixed before leaving Cartagena.
Lodgings- it is a small boat (36 ft). It has one bed, plus a couch that makes out into another bed. We got the 'cabin', which at least afforded us some privacy. The other couple (Richard and Amanda, from Sweden) were promised a private berth *and* private bath. Neither of those existed- they got the couch, which meant people always had to walk past.
The head was operable, but the door didn't shut. It had to be wedged partially shut, but would always be open 6-8 inches. That bothered Tamara and Amanda quite a bit.
Steve also promised us that nobody would go hungry on his ship, that he was a great cook, and such. Amanda told him that she was incredibly lactose-intolerant- Tamara was standing there as he was told that, he said he understood, and would shop accordingly. Steve bought a good amount of rum, claiming that Richard requested it. There were also several boxes of wine, and he bought beer right before leaving "for Richard".
You can guess where some of that is headed- Richard hadn't requested any of the alcohol, nor did he drink more than a beer or two. Steve started drinking immediately every morning, once we caught on we saw him taking a shot or two every hour, no matter the time of the day.
Steve talked a LOT about his fantastic pancakes and all the great breakfasts (and meals) that he would make, that it was part of his "job" for us, all we'd need to do is pilot for 15 minutes or so while he was fixing the meal. Almost every evening he promised pancakes the following morning. He never delivered on those pancakes. Most mornings we either skipped breakfast, or had some cereal. Admittedly, Steve did make a decent breakfast on two mornings.
Steve would usually make either lunch or dinner each day, but not consistently. They nearly always had milk products in them, and it became obvious that Steve had no clue what lactose intolerant meant. I'm sure he missed a day or two of making any meals- we just raided the pantry and ate junk food. On the final day, Steve actually groused that we didn't fix *him* breakfast!
Steve was also adamant about us not using water to shower or anything. He had a 180 gallon tank, and really was against it once there was about 100 gallons remaining. This wasn't the biggest complaint of the trip, but certainly didn't make the trip very enjoyable.
Steve had jugs of potable water. Well, he claimed it was potable. By the amount of material floating in the water, I don't believe it was filtered as he claimed. That meant we quit drinking any water for the final three days of the trip. It wasn't much fun.
It seemed that Steve's promises of when we'd leave various places always changed. The four of us asked him to leave San Blas, but it was 24 hours before he left. There was NO difference in weather. At first he said we'd leave that evening (after we asked him), that slipped to the next day.
I specifically asked Steve if he had AC (110v, mains power) available. He said yes, I could use the inverter anytime. He pulled it out twice during the trip- he wouldn't run it while the engine was off, he didn't like it if he was in the cabin, you name it. Richard and I banded together later in the trip to connect it once or twice more, but Steve wasn't terribly thrilled at us for that.
Steve claims using the inverter once had caused the batteries to drain. That doesn't surprise me- it was a huge inverter- but his boat was equipped with a shunt switch (to keep the 'house' batteries separate from the engine battery). So he either had it switched wrong or something. Steve said he had a small DC adapter that would power my laptop, but never looked for it. We did look for it once and didn't find it. We did find his gun, which horrified our Swedish friends. It didn't bother me much, except for the legality of it.
Back to the drunkenness. I didn't want to believe Richard on how bad it was, but it became increasingly obvious. During the passage to Cartagena, Steve stopped the boat in the middle of the night because of some thunderstorms. After waiting a few hours and listening to the boat engine idling, I went above to survey what was happening. Steve was totally passed out in the cockpit. I stepped over him, he mumbled a heading and speed, and I started piloting. We had all taken turns piloting, and I knew the heading and speed, so it wasn't hard (there's no way I would have understood what Steve had mumbled).
I ended up piloting for a good portion of the night- the thunder cells were on the sides, but not anywhere near our heading by then- and I finally woke up Richard at 6am for a stretch.
From there forward we decided we couldn't trust Steve at the helm and wouldn't leave him alone. That's when we searched and jettisoned any alcohol we could find without making it obvious.
On the final day, Steve became incredibly surly towards all of us. We weren't quite sure the reason, but didn't want to make things worse, of course. It took us the better part of a day to putter in through the channel (with every other ship passing us- Steve would only do 1-2 knots, stopped for any oncoming vessel, etc). He then rowed in to shore for two hours to drop off our passports, then came back to the ship.
After a while we convinced Steve to take the four of us in to shore. He wasn't happy, but went for it. It's a good thing we did- nothing that he promised us about the passport process was actually happening.
By late in the day we realized that Steve was getting crankier (despite having plenty of beers at shore), and he wanted to leave the bike onboard until the next day (even though us passengers would be at a hotel somewhere). I debated with him, he said (basically) "it's 3:30 now, it'll be dark before we untie the knots". I tried to give him a friendly bet to see if it would motivate him.
Finally I talked to the harbormaster, who did a very nice job of helping the process along. We couldn't have done it without him. Also, a Spanish-speaking friend of ours arrived on another sailboat right then, he had plenty of sailing experience, so we knew that would help things.
Once we went out to the ship, Steve was snappy and incredibly lethargic. He was angry that I got the ship fenders out to protect his boat(!) and made me put them away. We'd used them before, I don't know why he wouldn't want to. He was doing the minimum he needed to do to make the process move along.
Thankfully, we had a lot of muscle to get things going. Steve wouldn't tie the knots, but our friend knew what he was doing. Tamara controlled the rate of descent of the bike into the lancha, and Steve kept encouraging her to let the bike drop much faster. Thankfully, she wouldn't listen to him.
The rest of the process went okay. Because it was too late for customs, we left the bike on shore for the night. We knew we'd have to do that, but at least Steve couldn't sabotage it or anything overnight. We also got everything removed from the ship that night.
We got to the marina late the next morning, Steve claimed the customs agent was agitated because he'd told us that we were supposed to be there at a given time. Obviously we weren't told that (the customs agent had told Steve the time)- though Steve claimed otherwise. The customs agent already knew some of what was going on, and it wasn't a big deal. He obviously wasn't agitated.
To Steve's credit, he found a gear bag we'd left behind on the ship and gave it to us that morning. That bag was worth hundreds of dollars, so we were thankful for that. Still, he took delight in the length of the customs process, plus the trouble we had starting the bike, and such.
We were happy to have it OVER, no matter what.
http://perljam.net/wandering/2007/05/528-529-colon-portobelo-and-loading.html
http://perljam.net/wandering/2007/06/530-64-portobelo-panama-to-cartagena.html
I've been needing to write up more about the disaster that was our trip with Steve Robbins on the Shenanigans, and I finally did it. Here's what prompted me:
"Hey guys, thought I'd let you know I spoke to Steve the other day. I told him what you said and he was "amazed", he said you'd had a great trip and he couldn't understand why you'd say a thing like that jajajajajajaja. Then he rang back to say that the reason you must have said that stuff was because he caught you with drugs on the boat. mmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmm
"Thought you'd like to know, and that it would give you a big laugh!!!!!"
That is awesome. I'm glad this person knew a little more about the story than what Steve said. There were certainly no drugs on board, at least anything more than motion sickness pills!
There was a good quantity of alcohol, all supplied by Steve. We actually lobbed some overboard after realizing the danger he was posing to us by being drunk and passing out often.
Here's a little better summary.
Steve's boat is nice. It's older- from the 70s, I think- but he's taken care of it. I do believe he knows what he's doing, when he's sober. It has a few broken things, but he knows what he is doing and probably got at least some of them fixed before leaving Cartagena.
Lodgings- it is a small boat (36 ft). It has one bed, plus a couch that makes out into another bed. We got the 'cabin', which at least afforded us some privacy. The other couple (Richard and Amanda, from Sweden) were promised a private berth *and* private bath. Neither of those existed- they got the couch, which meant people always had to walk past.
The head was operable, but the door didn't shut. It had to be wedged partially shut, but would always be open 6-8 inches. That bothered Tamara and Amanda quite a bit.
Steve also promised us that nobody would go hungry on his ship, that he was a great cook, and such. Amanda told him that she was incredibly lactose-intolerant- Tamara was standing there as he was told that, he said he understood, and would shop accordingly. Steve bought a good amount of rum, claiming that Richard requested it. There were also several boxes of wine, and he bought beer right before leaving "for Richard".
You can guess where some of that is headed- Richard hadn't requested any of the alcohol, nor did he drink more than a beer or two. Steve started drinking immediately every morning, once we caught on we saw him taking a shot or two every hour, no matter the time of the day.
Steve talked a LOT about his fantastic pancakes and all the great breakfasts (and meals) that he would make, that it was part of his "job" for us, all we'd need to do is pilot for 15 minutes or so while he was fixing the meal. Almost every evening he promised pancakes the following morning. He never delivered on those pancakes. Most mornings we either skipped breakfast, or had some cereal. Admittedly, Steve did make a decent breakfast on two mornings.
Steve would usually make either lunch or dinner each day, but not consistently. They nearly always had milk products in them, and it became obvious that Steve had no clue what lactose intolerant meant. I'm sure he missed a day or two of making any meals- we just raided the pantry and ate junk food. On the final day, Steve actually groused that we didn't fix *him* breakfast!
Steve was also adamant about us not using water to shower or anything. He had a 180 gallon tank, and really was against it once there was about 100 gallons remaining. This wasn't the biggest complaint of the trip, but certainly didn't make the trip very enjoyable.
Steve had jugs of potable water. Well, he claimed it was potable. By the amount of material floating in the water, I don't believe it was filtered as he claimed. That meant we quit drinking any water for the final three days of the trip. It wasn't much fun.
It seemed that Steve's promises of when we'd leave various places always changed. The four of us asked him to leave San Blas, but it was 24 hours before he left. There was NO difference in weather. At first he said we'd leave that evening (after we asked him), that slipped to the next day.
I specifically asked Steve if he had AC (110v, mains power) available. He said yes, I could use the inverter anytime. He pulled it out twice during the trip- he wouldn't run it while the engine was off, he didn't like it if he was in the cabin, you name it. Richard and I banded together later in the trip to connect it once or twice more, but Steve wasn't terribly thrilled at us for that.
Steve claims using the inverter once had caused the batteries to drain. That doesn't surprise me- it was a huge inverter- but his boat was equipped with a shunt switch (to keep the 'house' batteries separate from the engine battery). So he either had it switched wrong or something. Steve said he had a small DC adapter that would power my laptop, but never looked for it. We did look for it once and didn't find it. We did find his gun, which horrified our Swedish friends. It didn't bother me much, except for the legality of it.
Back to the drunkenness. I didn't want to believe Richard on how bad it was, but it became increasingly obvious. During the passage to Cartagena, Steve stopped the boat in the middle of the night because of some thunderstorms. After waiting a few hours and listening to the boat engine idling, I went above to survey what was happening. Steve was totally passed out in the cockpit. I stepped over him, he mumbled a heading and speed, and I started piloting. We had all taken turns piloting, and I knew the heading and speed, so it wasn't hard (there's no way I would have understood what Steve had mumbled).
I ended up piloting for a good portion of the night- the thunder cells were on the sides, but not anywhere near our heading by then- and I finally woke up Richard at 6am for a stretch.
From there forward we decided we couldn't trust Steve at the helm and wouldn't leave him alone. That's when we searched and jettisoned any alcohol we could find without making it obvious.
On the final day, Steve became incredibly surly towards all of us. We weren't quite sure the reason, but didn't want to make things worse, of course. It took us the better part of a day to putter in through the channel (with every other ship passing us- Steve would only do 1-2 knots, stopped for any oncoming vessel, etc). He then rowed in to shore for two hours to drop off our passports, then came back to the ship.
After a while we convinced Steve to take the four of us in to shore. He wasn't happy, but went for it. It's a good thing we did- nothing that he promised us about the passport process was actually happening.
By late in the day we realized that Steve was getting crankier (despite having plenty of beers at shore), and he wanted to leave the bike onboard until the next day (even though us passengers would be at a hotel somewhere). I debated with him, he said (basically) "it's 3:30 now, it'll be dark before we untie the knots". I tried to give him a friendly bet to see if it would motivate him.
Finally I talked to the harbormaster, who did a very nice job of helping the process along. We couldn't have done it without him. Also, a Spanish-speaking friend of ours arrived on another sailboat right then, he had plenty of sailing experience, so we knew that would help things.
Once we went out to the ship, Steve was snappy and incredibly lethargic. He was angry that I got the ship fenders out to protect his boat(!) and made me put them away. We'd used them before, I don't know why he wouldn't want to. He was doing the minimum he needed to do to make the process move along.
Thankfully, we had a lot of muscle to get things going. Steve wouldn't tie the knots, but our friend knew what he was doing. Tamara controlled the rate of descent of the bike into the lancha, and Steve kept encouraging her to let the bike drop much faster. Thankfully, she wouldn't listen to him.
The rest of the process went okay. Because it was too late for customs, we left the bike on shore for the night. We knew we'd have to do that, but at least Steve couldn't sabotage it or anything overnight. We also got everything removed from the ship that night.
We got to the marina late the next morning, Steve claimed the customs agent was agitated because he'd told us that we were supposed to be there at a given time. Obviously we weren't told that (the customs agent had told Steve the time)- though Steve claimed otherwise. The customs agent already knew some of what was going on, and it wasn't a big deal. He obviously wasn't agitated.
To Steve's credit, he found a gear bag we'd left behind on the ship and gave it to us that morning. That bag was worth hundreds of dollars, so we were thankful for that. Still, he took delight in the length of the customs process, plus the trouble we had starting the bike, and such.
We were happy to have it OVER, no matter what.
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