Coconuts!

I have to admit that certain plants have always fascinated me. Coconut palms (cocos nucifera) are at the top of my list, followed closely by bamboo.

It seems to me that the coconut palm has to be one of the most successful plants on Earth. Wherever the plant first evolved, it has since spread to all points of the tropics. The way it must have accomplised that -- by drifting across large expanses of ocean, is equally intriguing (at least to me). Come to think of it, coconuts are master voyagers. Maybe that's part of their appeal for me.

While I should have been doing something more productive, I started to google the origin of the coconut and found some interesting things I'd like to share.

First, the coconut is no nut. It is something scientists call a "drupe." Here's an explanation from Coconut-info.net:

"A drupe consists of three layers: the exocarp, mesocarp (which represents the husk of the fruit), and endocarp. The mesocarp contains coir - a seed fiber ... [used] for example, to produce brushes, ropes, fishnets etc. The shell contains one single seed."

When the coconut flesh is dried, it is known as copra.

"Spanish explorers named the cocos -- meaning 'grinning face,' because of the three little eyes on the base which they thought resembled a monkey," according to the BBC.

There are two different distinct forms of "nut" known by their Samoan names -- niu kafa and niu vai. Niu kafa is triangular in shape, oblong and has a large fibrous husk, according to evolutionary plant biologist Kenneth Olsen of Washington University in St. Louis. Niu vai is more rounded and contains sweet coconut water before it ripens. A third variety of dwarf coconuts accounts for only about 5 percent of the plants and appears to be the result of human domestication.

The nui vai variety are brightly colored and either green, yellow or reddish gold. The trees themselves are categorized by their relative size. Smaller palms produce most of the coconuts for immediate consumption.


Where did the plant originate? No one knows for sure. There are two main hypotheses -- that it originated in peninsular Southeast Asia and the other that it came from northwestern South America.

As Florida-coconuts.com notes, in Hawaii, "the coconut is not considered a native fruit, because it was originally brought to the islands long ago by Polynesian travelers from the South Pacific." Discounting the largely discredited Thor Heyerdahl theory of an east-to-west settlement of the Pacific, it would seem to me that this fact alone favors the Southeast Asia hypothesis.

In fact, DNA analysis conducted by Olsen concluded that there are "two clearly differentiated populations of coconuts, a finding that strongly suggests the coconut was brought under cultivation in two separate locations, one in the Pacific basin and the other in the Indian Ocean basin." No mention of South America.

There's a lot written about the health benefits of coconuts, but a lot of it is on poorly sourced and "alternative" websites that are not verified. What does seem certain is this: coconuts are rich in fiber and contain vitamins C, E, B1, B3, B5 and B6 as well as minerals including iron, selenium, sodium, calcium, magnesium and phosphorous. And coconut milk is, of course, lactose free. It's also a natural laxative, so drinking too much might not be wise.

Oh, and something I've wondered about for years: an estimated 150 people a year are thought to die from falling coconuts!

Hangin' In The Caymans

Scott's Anchorage, Cayman Brac.

The first thing we noticed upon arriving in Cayman Brac a week or so ago was the water. As we approached a (mandatory) mooring at Scott's Anchorage on the southeast side of the island, we could easily see the flora and fauna at the bottom in 50-feet! No place, not even anything we've seen in the Bahamas, rivals it.

South Hole at Little Cayman.

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Apparently the clarity of the water (or the "viz," as divers say) is due to the limestone islands, which hold very little in the way of nutrients. The result is ... wow!

That initial impression was followed by another very favorable one: the customs and immigration officials at "the Brac" were the most pleasant, efficient and helpful we've ever encountered. They were chatty as we processed our paperwork and gave us a thorough run-down of what the island has to offer once all the forms had been signed and stamped. Essentially, they doubled as tour guides.

Unfortunately, our pleasant experience at Cayman Brac wasn't to last much longer. We soon found the anchorage untenably rolly. The biggest problem with the Caymans, one we knew to expect, is that they are laid out east to west and there is hardly any outcrops or bays to get protection from bad swells and wind. After a sleepless night on the mooring at Scott's (and expecting the wind and swell to get worse), Maris and Linda on Amekaya (whom we met in Jamaica), Tropical Blend and us were weighing our very limited options. Staying on the moorings there would have been safe enough, but the rolling was just horrible. Definitely a "2 Spilled Gin & Tonics" anchorage! I had really wanted to go over and see the wreck of the Teignmouth Electron, Donald Crowhurst's boat, which ended up here sometime after the famous disappearance of the deceptive single-hander in the 1968 Golden Globe Race. I was thinking a little essay and photos would make a nice story for one of the sailing magazines -- especially because a movie about the tragedy (starring Colin Firth as Crowhurst) is about to come out. The timing would have been perfect. Too bad I really didn't have time to do it.

There was one vague possibility on the other side of Brac (Sessinger's Bay), but the cruising guides were not very clear about the mooring situation there and, as the customs officials had warned us, anchoring around the pristine coral carries a hefty fine.

One other option, though it looked almost equally bad, was South Hole Bay on the south side of Little Cayman, about 12 nautical miles away. The charts showed very thin water there. Not much more than 4.5 feet and all three boats draw more than that (Symbiosis the most, at nearly six feet). But cruising guides reported a bit more than that. Turns out that Maris on Amekaya had a friend who had lived at Little Cayman and still owned a mooring there. After talking it over, Amekaya agreed to head over, scout out the anchorage, and report back to us on the VHF.

In a couple of hours, Maris reported just enough water and a bay that he described as a "mill pond." Perfect! Tropical Blend and Symbiosis motored over and entered the narrow channel entrance, just a slit between the coral reef. We saw about 12 feet through the cut, all good. Once inside, we made a sharp right and headed in, with Noi on the bow and my eyes on the depth sounder. We touched the sandy bottom once, then again, then dropped the anchor in something between 6 and 7 feet -- our shallowest anchorage ever, with barely inches below the keel. We were almost at low tide, so luckily didn't have much more to lose. Even so, every day we were there, we bounced a bit off the bottom at low tide. Not ideal, but so much better than where we had been!

Spent the next few days enjoying Little Cayman and the beautiful anchorage. Maris, who went on a couple of dives there, reported that we were the talk of the island because so few cruisers ever attempt this bay. It's just too shallow.

Exploring Little Cayman.

Prism, a Hans Christian 33 with John, Shannon and Yet aboard, appeared over the horizon from Cayman Brac the next day. We'd seen them in the mooring field at Brac earlier, but had not gotten a chance to meet them. John is a videographer and is one of the few people I know of who seems to make money at the YouTube/social media thing. Good for him.

In a few days, Tropical Blend and Symbiosis decided to push ahead for Grand Cayman, which is 90 miles away. Since we would need to re-enter international waters, customs required that we clear out and then back in at Grand Cayman -- something that proved a major inconvenience, costing us many hours and miles, There is no longer a customs official at Little Cayman, so we had to go back to the Brac to check out. Add 24 miles (about 5 hours) to our journey.

We timed our arrival at the tricky entrance to North Sound at Grand Cayman for 0830, when customs opens (and coincidentally at high tide, when it would have been easier to get into the shallow bay). We hoped officials would grant us a (reportedly) occasional indulgence and allow us to check in at our marina rather than having to go all the way around a large peninsula to Georgetown. Ironically, Barcadere Marina is only about 2 miles across a neck of land from Georgetown, but a good 10 miles (2 hours) by water. The answer came back on the VHF from Georgetown: You must come around.

So, we motored against the wind and waves down to Georgetown. Tropical Blend was first and pulled into the customs dock. Larry reported back that the concrete dock was very surgy and had no fenders and almost no room to maneuver with a huge rock right there. The customs officials took two pieces of paper and had them off in a few minutes. Next, it was our turn. We somehow made it in and out without a problem. Credit where it's due: the customs officials were very polite and helpful.

As we headed back, we got a call from Grand Cayman Security explaining that customs had not collected the correct forms from us and could we please come back (by land, thankfully!) the following Tuesday to clear things up.

By the time we got back to the entrance to North Sound (five hours later), it was low tide. So, the shallow entrance, slicing between reefs and shallow water, was even more difficult. Thanks to Noi's eagle-eye, we managed to avoid hitting a huge rectangular mooring block that appeared to be just a few feet from the surface.

Once inside, it was still quite shallow, but manageable. Within a few minutes, Symbiosis' engine started loping and then abruptly quit. I have been trying to solve this issue for weeks. The engine will run fine for many hours and then suddenly lose its siphon from the tank and die of fuel starvation. I ran down, confirmed it was the same issue (no fuel in the first filter is the smoking gun) and restarted the siphon by sucking on the line and getting the flow to return. Within a minute or two we had the engine restarted and I crossed my fingers that it wouldn't shut down again.

Finally made it to the channel at Barcadere Marina, which is apparently new enough not to appear on any of the charts. The channel is just a trench that goes from about 12' to 5' instantly. Somehow we managed to edge out and promptly ran aground in mud and grass. Ignoble. Tropical Blend, ahead, could really do nothing, so after a perfunctory attempt to pass us a line, we encouraged them to go ahead and get their slip. Called the marina and they arranged to get a boat out to help us. I got the distinct impression this was not their first such rescue. After 20 minutes or so, the boat arrived and managed to pull us off. We could easily see clear water from where we were aground -- just two feet or so away.

Symbiosis aground outside Barcadere Marina.

Now we are in Barcadere Marina, resting and relaxing. Another strange passage behind us.