A decent weather window has opened up for our 650-nm passage from Utila to the Dry Tortugas, which should take about seven days. Winds are expected to blow mostly from the northeast, so we’re anticipating an uncomfortable close reach for most of the journey.

It is very hard to leave this time because we are not only leaving the Caribbean, at least for the time being, but we also have to say goodbye to some of our good friends, Renate and Peter, and Ute and Hajot. We have spent so many wonderful hours together, enjoyed going on trips, and best of all, had someone to turn to if problems occurred that we wanted to discuss with somebody.

This has been part of our lives since we decided to live on the boat—you have to leave good friends behind. Fortunately, we have managed to stay in touch with most of them, and we hope to see them again in the future.

The day before we left, we stop by the immigration office, squeeze in a dental appointment for Hans, and spend our remaining Honduran lempiras at a fruit and vegetable stand.

On December 17, 2025, we leave Utila at 7:30 a.m., an hour later than planned. This is the result of the potent drinks that Hajot and Ute served us the night before, when we stopped by to say goodbye.

That day, winds blow from the southwest to the west at speeds between 6 and 9 knots. At times, this isn’t enough to fill our genoa, which consequently flogs around. We spend our time furling it in, turning the engine on, and letting the sail out again, only to turn the engine off when the wind picks up a little. While we’re not in a hurry, moving at a speed of about 1 knot with 2- to 3-foot swells doesn’t make for a comfortable ride.

As expected, the wind shifts to the east-northeast at around 10 pm. There is some rain and a swell of up to six feet.

Over the next two days, the wind continues to blow from the northeast to the east-northeast at 8 to 15 knots, and we happily chug along at 4 to 5 knots. We finally seem to have figured out how to use our monitor wind steering system. We shortened one side of the steering linkage, and voilà—the system works great! In the past, we just assumed that both sides needed to be the same length. We could have solved the issue a long time ago.

On December 20, 280 nautical miles into our trip, the wind picks up to 25 knots and the wave intervals decrease. To reduce heeling and make it easier to move around on the boat, we decide to put two reefs in the mainsail and partially furl the genoa.

The forecast now predicts stronger winds and waves up to 9 ft from the east over the next few days, with gusts to the mid-thirties. These winds will blow through the Straits of Florida, which connect the Gulf of Mexico and the Atlantic Ocean. Given the west-to-east-running Gulf Stream current added to the mix, we don’t want to be exposed to these conditions. Therefore, we decide to seek shelter in an anchorage on the northeast coast of Cuba. On the 21st, we sail all day in winds over 20 knots with two reefs in the mainsail and just a little genoa out. We continuously make between six and seven knots. At 10:30 p.m., we drop anchor in Los Cayos, a very remote but open bay that allows us to approach safely despite the pitch-black night.

We spend one day in Los Cayos weighing our options, when a fishing boat approaches us. Fifteen minutes later, we have ten beautiful lobsters! We cook eight of them, cut them into bite-sized pieces, and freeze them. We grill the remaining two and enjoy them with garlic butter and a fresh-baked baguette.

The next morning, December 23rd, we get ready to leave again. Our plan is to motor east along the coast, where we assume the water will be calmer and the winds won’t be as strong as they are out on the open water. Once the winds subside in two days, we will head to the Dry Tortugas.

Forty-five minutes into motoring into the wind and waves, smoke fills the engine room. Not again! We’ve been dealing with engine issues since Colombia, where we hired a mechanic to help us. We had been losing coolant, but we could not figure out where it was going. The mechanic fixed the exhaust connection, and we changed the air filter, hoping that would solve the problem. However, we continued to have intermittent issues all the way to Mexico and then Guatemala. Thinking the smoke might be caused by leaking exhaust seals, we asked a fellow sailor at the RAM Marina in Rio Dulce to bring back a new set of seals from the U.S. After replacing the seals and air filters, we revved the engine up to 2,800 RPMs, and everything seemed to work as expected. Until now, that is.

We turn around and go back to Los Cayos. After the engine cools down, we check the air filters, which are clogged again. For now, there isn’t much more we can do besides replace the filters and add coolant.

Contrary to the forecast, the wind dies down to seven knots by 6 p.m., so we decide to take advantage of the calmer conditions. We hoist the anchor and continue on to our next anchorage overnight. At first, everything goes well: light wind, calm water, and good progress. But soon enough, things go downhill again, and we are bashing into increasing winds and waves. During the night, we hardly make any headway—only 20 nautical miles in 14 hours! Occasionally, the speedometer shows less than one knot. So much for our assumption that conditions would be calmer close to shore. We go a little further out, hoist the main with two reefs in, unfurl the genoa, and tack our way into Cayo Buenavista. It’s a spirited sail with strong winds the whole time, gusts up to 34 knots, and waves crashing over the bow and hitting us in the cockpit. We are glad we are not further out in the Straits of Florida. At one point, we switch from the autopilot to hand-steering so we can get closer to the wind. Sailing like this is actually really fun, but we’re still glad to arrive in Cayo Buenavista at 6 p.m. on December 24.

We spend Christmas Day still trying to figure out the engine issue. Members of the “Westerbeke Owners” Facebook group offer suggestions, which we try one by one. We also learn that there is a good diesel mechanic in Titusville, Florida, where we have already planned to spend a couple of weeks anyway. Hopefully, he will be able to fix the issue once and for all. In the meantime, we will have to make do, which is no problem as long as we don’t exceed 1,500 RPMs for an extended period of time.

This is the closest we got to the Cuban coast.

On December 26 at 7 a.m., we leave Cayo Buenavista. Our decision to wait for better sailing conditions pays off. We have winds ranging from 15 to 20 knots from the north to northeast. The windvane is engaged, and we enjoy an absolutely beautiful sail under blue skies for the next two days. We tack back and forth, making 3.5 to 4.5 knots. The speed increases to 5.5 knots once we enter the Gulf Stream current. Along the way, we each land a mahi-mahi. We use some of the fish for ceviche, leave one fillet out to put on the grill once we will be in the Dry Tortugas, and put the rest in the freezer.

We motor the last few miles so that we won’t have to enter the Garden Key anchorage at night, and we enjoy a beautiful view of Loggerhead Key with its lighthouse and Fort Jefferson on Garden Key.

At 6 p.m. on December 27, we finally drop anchor in the Dry Tortugas after 11 days and 777 nautical miles. Our top speed was 8.5 knots, average 4.4 knots. We log into CBP Roam to check in, and an hour later, we received our clearance number. After three years, we are back in the United States!

We wake up to a calm and glorious first day in the Dry Tortugas. After sleeping in and enjoying a nice breakfast, we clean the salt-encrusted boat. We watch the ferry from Key West arrive and seaplanes land and take off again.

After launching the dinghy, we go ashore and explore Fort Jefferson, whose construction started in 1846 and continued for 30 years, though it was never finished. The goal was to control navigation to the Gulf of Mexico and protect Atlantic-bound Mississippi River trade by fortifying the Dry Tortugas, a cluster of seven islands located approximately 70 miles west of Key West, Florida.

During the Civil War, the fort served as a Union military prison, but it was abandoned for military use in 1874.

Aerial shot – By U.S. National Park Service – U.S. National Park Service [1]; English Wikipedia, original upload 2 March 2005 by Brian0918, Public Domain, https://commons.wikimedia.org/w/index.php?curid=326325

Strolling through the fort, which was built with 16 million bricks, was really interesting.

Fascinating to see stalagmites and stalactites growing within the hallways of the fort
This is the first time we have seen a dinghy and a seaplane landing right next to each other.

In the late afternoon, we grill the mahi filet that we hadn’t put in the freezer, and then we go ashore again for an evening stroll. Absolutely gorgeous!

Am späten Nachmittag grillen wir das Mahi-Filet, das wir nicht in den Gefrierschrank gelegt hatten, und gehen dann wieder an Land, um einen Abendspaziergang zu machen. Wunderschön!

Day two starts with us dragging anchor. Great. During the night, the wind shifted and strengthened to 20 knots. In anticipation of the front coming though we had checked the anchor the previous evening, and it was deeply dug into coarse sand. We don’t know why we dragged, but regardless, we have to hoist the anchor and look for another spot.

Later in the day, we hop in the dinghy and take a walk along the beach, watching pelicans dive for fish and frigate birds soar in the sky. It’s very windy out, and we’re glad we brought a jacket.

What a difference a day makes!


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