Dinghy Day Trips:
The Cure for Marina Fever
in Puerto La Cruz

by Deanna Chaney

It was late August 2007 and we’d been tied up to a slip at Bahia Redonda Marina in Puerto La Cruz (PLC), Venezuela, for over a month. While multiple projects had our boat torn apart and unfit for travel, my husband Nick and I had developed a bad case of marina fever. What was the remedy? To our rescue came a veteran cruiser who recommended a dinghy tour of Chimana Grande, an island just four miles north of PLC on the other side of Pozuelos Bay.

Chimana Grande Cure
Skimming across the bay in the early morning calm, our first stop was the Ciéneguita anchorage on the south side of Chimana Grande. Motoring through a narrow channel between towering cliffs, we discovered a peaceful mangrove lagoon. At night, this anchorage offers a romantic view to the south of PLC’s twinkling lights. We pulled our dinghies onto a mud beach and hiked up a steep hill overlooking the lagoon. The morning was steamy, with barely a breath of wind. We carefully ascended, slipping and sliding on shifty rocks while dodging cactus thorns. It was wet season and the gnats quickly discovered the new menu item: fresh, steamed gringo. Our bug spray was, of course, at the bottom of the hill in the dinghy. After much scrambling and swatting, we were rewarded with a lovely view of four consecutive bodies of water to the west. The only thing missing from this idyllic vista was our boat bobbing at anchor. We made a promise, which we later kept, to return in the big boat.

To the west of Ciéneguita is the larger Ciénaga anchorage, where there’s a modest reef to snorkel on the east side of a small beach. A narrow channel through overhanging mangrove roots connects the two bays. On a subsequent trip we explored this channel from the Ciénaga side, but our dinghy was too fat to make it all the way through. A kayak would be ideal.

Our journey around Chimana Grande continued with a side trip to neighboring Chimana Segunda. The geological formations of these islands are grand in scale and I found myself wishing I had some knowledge of geology. At sea level, striated rock emerges sharp and jagged from clear turquoise water. In contrast, the island’s hilltops are gently rounded, softened over time by Mother Nature. The arid landscape is shades of brown with a sparse freckling of green shrubbery and cactus.

After a few hours of exploring, our rumbling stomachs reminded us that the lunch hour had arrived. We stopped at Playa Puinare, a public beach on the southwest side of Chimana Grande. The beach was crowded with families enjoying an outing before school resumed in September. All of the covered tables were occupied, so we rented chairs for US$1.25 apiece and found a shady spot to eat our picnic lunch. After lunch and another hike, we enjoyed a refreshing swim.
By mid-afternoon, we loaded up the dinghies and headed back to the marina, feeling revived and ready to tackle those endless boat projects.

Borrachos Booster
Three weeks later we had a relapse of marina fever. It was time for another dinghy adventure. For our second outing, we decided to visit some rather impressive Venezuelan “drunks.” Five miles northwest of PLC 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.
Our flotilla of four dinghies headed out just after the morning VHF net. Since having the dinghy bottom cleaned two weeks before, we’d left it sitting in the water. In that short period, a thick colony of coral worms had blossomed on the bottom, which now resembled the fringe on a table lamp. Despite our best efforts, we could not get the 15-horsepower Mercury to bring the dink up on a plane. Our companions stopped and waited for us as we slogged across the bay.

We finally reached a coral-fringed anchorage on the northwest side of La Borracha. A lopsided fishing hut sat just behind the white sand dunes, where a statue of a mustached hombre greeted visitors. I couldn’t wait to pull on my snorkel gear and enjoy some clear water for a change. While I swam off in search of a coral reef, Nick strapped on his snorkel and mask and busied himself scraping the reef off the bottom of our dinghy.
On the west side of the anchorage, I was 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 adorned the yellow coral branches. The familiar crunch-crunch of tropical fish feeding on coral was music to my ears. Curious damselfish approached my snapping fingers and then darted away. Several varieties of parrotfish wove through the shallow reef while a school of jacks hurried past. A spotted moray eel, curled atop a coral head, snarled at a pesky damselfish. When I turned around to get a better look, the eel vanished without a trace.

I swam back to find Nick had finished cleaning the dinghy bottom. He gave the dinghy a test drive, and it skimmed lightly across the surface just like it should. We dried off and joined the others under a shady tree for a picnic lunch.
After lunch, we motored around the island with the other dinghies. Amid towering cliffs, intriguing caves and sheltered grottos lured us in and inspired thoughts of romance amid their secluded walls. The terrain was 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 their stark grandeur. The Borrachos are noted for one unique feature: vampire bats. Sailors anchoring here overnight are advised to close or screen their hatches.
By mid-afternoon we were flying across the bay back to PLC on our spotless dinghy bottom. Just outside the green and red channel markers, the Mercury sputtered to a stop. The other dinghies gathered around while Nick refilled the tank from our extra can, and then we all reluctantly headed back to the murky-brown water of the marina and our lists of unfinished boat projects. It was a wonderful day exploring another beautiful Venezuelan island. We promised to return whenever marina fever strikes again.

Tips
You'll need a go-fast dinghy with a clean bottom for the four- to five-mile trip across the bay. Bring an extra can of gasoline if you have any doubts about your range.
Leave early in the morning to zip across a flat bay. Keep an eye on the weather and return before the afternoon wind or thunderstorms kick up.
You’ll soon feel like a fried egg in an uncovered dinghy, so apply plenty of sunscreen. Better yet, wear a UV shirt and a hat.
If you plan to hike, bring shoes with good traction because the steep hills are very slippery. It’s easier to go up than it is to go down. Bug spray may be needed during rainy season.
Bring plenty of water and food. You may be able to purchase food at Playa Puinare or El Saco on Chimana Grande or El Faro on Chimana Segunda, if the restaurants are open.

Keep a watch on your dinghy if you tie up to a public dock since dock urchins may meddle.
You’ll be within range of PLC, so bring your handheld VHF. A buddy dinghy is also a good idea and makes the trip more fun.
Refer to Chris Doyle’s Cruising Guide to Venezuela and Bonaire for information on snorkeling spots.
You may encounter the police dinghy, which patrols the area from Playa Puinare to El Faro. We found the two officers to be polite and appreciative of cold water and chocolate chip cookies.