
After 22-plus hours crossing the Mona Passage from the Dominican Republic, we finally dropped anchor on the west coast of Puerto Rico at 5:30 pm. Incredibly, we'd spotted the island around 8 that morning, but the strong trade winds working against us turned the last leg of our trip into a marathon.
We anchored in Boqueron, which was recommended as a smaller and more pleasant anchorage than Mayaguez, the nearest metropolis farther up the coastline; but despite what was written in Passages South, when Cap called customs to check in they demanded both of us present our paperwork in Mayaguez; but we could wait until after the weekend. We hired a publico to take us there and back; and the Customs Officer, who spoke fluent English, was very nice but gave us an earful, complaining about cruisers following erroneous instructions in some book. We kept quiet. He also mentioned Ruff Life was allowed to stay in P.R. for 60 days or we'd have to formally register the boat and pay taxes on her value. We'll be gone, we assured him. Again, no one mentioned guns. To continue my journal, which I wrote in the mornings while drinking coffee and waiting for night-owl Cap to wake up:
March 16, 1998 - Boqueron, Puerto Rico
"Mayaguez had stores - Michaels crafts, J.C.Penny's, etc; McD's Burger King, Church's Chicken - even a Denny's! It's like Florida. Boqueron is small, lots of tourists but not a real built-up place. Restaurants, pool halls, T-shirt shops. No banks, and we're out of cash. Called Hillary and she's sending our mail via Fed-Ex to Wildflowers, a guest house run by an American couple. We splurged on dinner - $64 - our eyes popped at the bill since we were thinking exchange rates, but everything's in U.S. dollars, ouch! At least it was really good."

That first meal out was in
Galloway's, a casual bar and restaurant on the waterfront, popular with tourists and still in existence (you can find photos
on their page). It felt like
heaven and we understood the menu (except for said prices), which included familiar food. The servers, who spoke English, kept the drinks coming while we lounged in plastic patio chairs for hours, ordering course after course, oblivious to the bill we were racking up. There was music coming from somewhere and they even had a couple of shelves for a small book exchange, which grabbed Cap's attention immediately. I could live there.