February 21, 2010
20:23
Bahia de Tortugas became our second landfall choice for our cruise. We made for the, surprisingly noisy, town of 3,000 mid-morning. This entailed us dropping our respective tenders in the water (Dan his dinghy, me my kayak) and rowing to the beach. The transitions between the water and the land is where difficulty always arises. There was a bit of a small surf crashing on the browned beach, although not too heavy of one. The procedure would be to jam up toward the beach as a wave was going up and catching a ride on it, before hopping off and dragging the vessel up to a secure location. We both managed this rather successfully. We locked our tenders in a T shaped with a bicycle lock (to discourage theft) and headed into town. Here's a shot of the gorgeous bay we were in. Leeway is the sailboat with its mast rising a bit to the right of the closest panga's flag.
It was what I had pretty much expected for Tortugas, but a little but more dilapidated. There were plenty of homes and buildings that were in a complete rundown state. Apparently 10 years ago, the cannery in the town closed down. With this came a steep decline of business and wealth, but the town was determined to stay alive with its fishing industry. It's a little ragged around the edges, but it's surely alive. The people have proven their resilience in their constant carnivale celebrations. Dan and I wandered around town a bit, watching out for stray dogs and barreling automobiles before finding a place for lunch. We found a little family restaurant called La Palapa. We relaxed there for several hours sipping on beers and absorbing the sun-dried view. Here's picture of the town from up on a hill (if you look really close you can spot the photographer) and another of the view we so enjoyed from La Palapa's tables.
Feb 23, 2010
08:50
Well now that I'm less exhausted and have had some breakfast, I can tell you all about yesterday's sail. We upped our anchor around 0725 in Bahia de Tortugas and started making towards Bahia de Asuncion. It was only 50 miles away, rhumbline, so we were pretty sure we could make it by sundown. As we started making our way around the headlands we notice the winds are died off, but the whitecaps on the ocean ahead reassured us. Soon after breaking the lee of the headlands, the wind revealed itself. A prominent northwesterly with some gusts. At this time the wind is about 15 knots and is pushing us along at hull speed as we hold up all the sail we can.
Since it's a straight downwind run, we can't make a direct route without dangerously sailing by the lee (a gybe could be devastating in these conditions). So we opt for a southern course planing to tack back in later. The seas are fair-sized, about 4 feet, with a short interval between them, 8 seconds. This basically means the waves are steep. We make 20 nautical miles (nm) on this tack before the winds start to over power the rig. The gusts have started to blow the tops off the now steepening waves. The air is filled with the fine briny spray. Not wanting to douse a sail, Dan puts us on an easterly tack towards our destination. The wearabout was flawless and we were now on a direct course for Bahia de Asuncion, 40 nm away. We were heeled over pretty well on this run and making great speed until the gusts started amping up. Each puff would round us up into the wind putting us beam-on to overpower the sails. We needed to douse a sail and the easiest would be the main. Dan held course while I went into the cabin to find my lifejacket for my venture to the pitching foredeck. As I grabbed my jacket, another gust rounded us up and as a result quickly moved everything inside the cabin from port to starboard side. The sail had to go.
I crawled forward, clipped my jacket onto the mainsail tack, loosened the halyard dog, and doused the main without a hitch. The flaking was done as hilariously as ever (this time with an observer to the comedy) and we were sailing under genoa alone. Curious as to our speed over ground, I checked the GPS that was reading a consistent 8 kts, with pulses up to 10 as we surfed down the steep waves. Helming Leeway in these conditions was incredibly tiriing. We were on a downwind approach with moderate quartering seas. The boat required constant attention to stay on course as the waves pushed the stern around and the gusts rounded the bow up into the wind. As Isla de Asuncion neared, we felt better by the minute.
We rounded the island to a straight beat (as close as we can sail into the wind) into the bay. As soon as we came beam-on to the wind, we heeled as far as we've ever heeled before. Not only the toerail was awash, but we managed to half-bury the starboard winch as well. I sheeted out the jib a bit to lessen the effect of the wind and it worked beautifully. We sailed in, dropped the anchor and have been comfortably in place since. We managed force 5 conditions (fresh breeze), that rose to force 6 (strong breeze) as we started coming in. All in all, it was a wonderfully-exhilarating, tiring experience. Here's the sunset that night, silhouetting the town:
19:18
We made landfall in yet another Baha fishing town today. On my first impression, I'd have to place Bahia de Asuncion at my favorite town so far. The waters are calm (in prevailing winds), even moreso than Ensenada Harbor, the sun is warm, way moreso than Long Beach, and the people are helpful and kind.
We were unsure if we were going to make landfall today. We were both pretty pooped from yesterday's sail. But a pescadero named Hector came and made it happen. Short after breakfast, Dan and I were sitting in the warming sun enjoying the bay's vista. Included in our panoramic view, there was a panga doing something that attracted a whole lot of winged animals. We stared at them for a while trying to figure out what there were up to when, to our surprise, they started motoring towards us. They pulled up along side us and we exchanged greetings. It was Hector and his mute buddy. They manned a classic Latin American panga and it quickly became clear what they were up to. As we both stumbled along our language barrier, something caught my eye. I looked over just in time to see an octopus (pulpo) slither out of a bucket and fall onto the floor of the panga with a plop. They were octopus trappers! They had been attracting the flying critters with the scattering of useless (to humans) octopus parts.
Hector seemed to be a nice enough guy, so we asked if he would be able to taxi us over to land in exchange for some pesos. He explained that it would be no problem and he would only ask for some hooks and not pesos. So we grabbed our backpacks and hitched a ride on the panga. Upon making landfall, we arranged for a ride back at 1600, 4 hours from then, gave our thanks, and walked up the sandy slope into town.
The first thing I noticed was in how much better condition and how much more orderly the town was compared to Tortugas. There's one main, paved, road running parallel the the shore named Juarez. Off of it sprung many unpaved side streets, the largest of which, Gobierno, even had a median with foliage planted inside. Juarez ran straight from Punta Asuncion all the way to the end of town about two miles in length. From there, it stretched into the barren red landscape of Baja to meet up with Highway 1 100 miles away. Lining the main road were all the major businesses: mercaditos (markets), purificadors (water distribution centers), and some bright pastel homes. There were a few dilapidated cinderblock ruins, but nothing nearing the score of Tortugas. It seems Asuncion didn't fall as hard when the economies tanked. This is Juarez where it begins winding into the desert.
The atmosphere was warmer here. People would honk and wave at friends as they went by (which seemed to be almost everyone). Passer-bys happily said “buenos dies” and “hola”, some even going out of their way to do so. We had a delicious lunch in a restaurant no larger than a small one bedroom apartment. Very friendly, very good eats. By the time we worked out a way to get some money in town, it was time for Hector to give us our ride back. So we grabbed some cervesas and jugos before our panga arrived.
February 24, 2010
20:50
Today was the worst day yet. We rowed into town early and had to spend the day relaxing in a comfortable beach house with a stunning view. This was each our second time landing our respective tenders on a beach. I led the way with my kayak and implemented the same technique as before: paddle like mad and try to ride a wave in. My timing wasn't quite so lucky this time around. I made it up and beached her right as a wave swamped me from behind. Luckily I had put all my gear: laptop, wallet, passport, camera into a dry bag within my backpack. I came out soaking wet and tread up the beach after securing my kayak to a rock.
We made our way up to the beach house at Campo Sirena with our load for Asuncion: trash from the passages, clothes to be laundered, and laptops to be typed upon. We spend the whole rest of the day hanging around the palapa enjoying the free internet and warm air. Like I said: it was terrible. At the end of the day (about sunset), all our clothes had finished drying in the moistureless desert air and we rowed back. Here is the beach house we made home for a day and the view when you walk out the door and scan to the left. And finally one of me getting ready to make a venture back to the boat (we needed a can opener for our sardine tacos).
February 26, 2010
20:19
What a wonderful day of sailing we experienced. We managed to get to our feet around 0900 utilizing copious quantities of coffee and looked towards our next port: San Hipolito. San Hipolito lies only 20 miles southeast of Asuncion and was the next logical step in our gunk-holing adventure. After breakfast we sailed off our hook and made way to Hipolito. The wind and waves were perfect. The dichotomy between today's sail and our last sail was splendidly satistfactory. We caught a 5lb Wahoo for dinner and dodged a whale and calf, other than this it was perfectly uneventful. To finish the day off, we decided to sail onto our anchorage. It was a beam reach into the bay and the wind was building. Dan let loose the jib sheet and I bagged it as we continued towards our anchorage. I then readied the anchoring set up as we neared our location. Dan steered Leeway up into the wind and luffed her mainsail bringing her to a halt. As soon as she went into irons I dropped the Rocna and let out some scope. The wind pushed us back on the hook and set it in the sand below. It was a beautifully executed maneuver and we celebrated with warm beer.
The Wahoo was almost eaten in its entirety. San Hipolito will remain unexplored territory for us. It looks like it is populated by no more than 100 people, so they wouldn't have much for services. Tomorrow we set sail for Bahia de Ballenas, more specifically Punta Abreojos. Here's a classic copper Baja sunset shown to us over Table Mountain in San Hipolito. And following are the birds that take over any boat anchored in San Hipolito:
February 28, 2010
11:28
We made Punta Abreojos “open your eyes” and successfully plotted a course around the four close-to-shore dangers its name warns of. On the way there, Dan initiated a surprise man overboard drill using an empty 409 jug as his doppleganger. He calmly explained, “This is me.” and gave the jug a good toss over the edge. “Man overboard, your helm.” I maneuvered back to “him” pretty quickly, but was unable to nab him out of the water with the boathook. After a few more tries and a wrapped up jib, Dan gave up all hope of ever surviving and called off the drill. My only issue arose in the fine handling of the boat and the stalling maneuver. Hopefully there will be many more drills before I ever have to complete this task. This is San Hipolito on departure.
The sailing was pretty serene until we reached the close of the day. We were visited by a score of different marine mammals including whales (which we must have seen at least 10 of), dolphins, and seals. About 1500 the wind started to pick up. By the time we were safely anchored it must have been blowing mid force 5. And since it was coming from a slightly different direction than usual, this anchorage didn't provide good protection from the swell. We had a rocky night that didn't deliver much sleep, but at least it proved how well I had stowed everything, except for those damn oranges!
We woke up, fully unrested, and had delicious summer sausage omelettes to get our brain cells cranking. We reviewed our current situation: low on food and out of water in the tanks. The whole of the Pacific side of Baja has only small, desolate fishing villages that have no means for us to withdraw cash for more rations. According to a gringo, Sherri, there would be no banks until Cabo San Lucas (400 nm from here). The only option we are left with is to sail for Cabo. It should be a 3 and a half day run at 5 kts. We'll be rationing our water supply by using it only to drink and cook. All washing of dishes for hereon out will be done with salt water.
We're now sailing on our classic run with quartering waves out of Abreojos. Our bearing is 145 degrees and the sailing is smooth.
21:00
I am now standing on watch again. It feels like it's been quite a while since I've done this, but it hasn't really. My last night watch experience was outside Bahia de Tortugas and I was dodging freighters the whole night. This one is a much nicer setting. The 10-15 knot wind prevailing norhtwest winds are continuing into the night. I am flying a sheeted out main alone. Not because the jib was over-powering us, but because it was being the wind shadow of the main. Nevertheless, we are still making wonderful time at about 7 kts. My only complaint would be the waves. They are once again quartering, making for an awkward ride. In addition they have recently developed a steepening tendency. This is giving the auto-tiller a little trouble, so we're wallowing around a bit. It's still better than last night's anchorage though.
The full moon rose about the same time darkness set in. It brings our every detail of the swell that is passing by. I'd say the wave height is 1 foot while the swell is about 3 and a half at the tallest. The moonlight truly dances upon the surface of these waves. During last month's full moon (when we were just getting out of LA), the full moon was almost always obscured by clouds. I'm glad to have witnessed this sight unabated.
With lower latitudes has come a different night watch attire. Instead of donning tow pairs of socks with pants tucked in, two pairs of pants with shirts tucked in, and four layers upon my torso, I now wear a pair of jeans with bottoms rolled up and just three layers upon my chest. I have no need for the worn our pair of leather gloves I once used to keep my fingers functional, nor any sort of foot garment. We haven't worn any shoes while sailing since Tortugas. We like to repeatedly test the gaining temperature of the sea by having our little toesies wet in the cockpit sole.
March 2, 2010
11:20
Late last evening we decided to alter course for Bahia Magdalena. There were a few contributing factors to this change of plans. As the afternoon transitioned to dusk, the clouds started to tell a tale. There came up a quick-moving, altocirrus formation from the east northeast. This spells a change in weather. They came from a direction that might indicate cyclonic deterioration, so we, not wanting to brave a gale on the sea, decided to take shelter. The wind has now shifted to the south this morning, proving at least some truth to the cloud's tale. We'll watch the situation to see how it develops. We came into Bahia Santa Maria (a bay outside of Magdelena) late last night. We used the beaming moon as our light and set anchor in 33 ft of water, using a mountain as shelter from the wind. The sleep was stupendous and we're readying to depart for Cabo right now. Here is the fishing camp in Bahia Santa Maria, it looks as if it's total population couldn't exceed 10.
March 3, 2010
00:24
Assured of fair weather by my father, we set out for Cabo around 1200. Where once we had been weary and restless, we are now hopeful and genial. Although the scare into the anchorage was a bit unfounded, the replenished energy of a hard night's sleep was more than enough to make up for the little lost time. A sail-off the anchorage accompanied by my hoisting of the genoa got us moving out of the still waters of Bahia Santa Maria and back into the ocean swell. The seas were large (about 7 feet), but wide so they did not cause much trouble. Our winds were a 10-15kt blow that put us on a hull-speed reach. The necessary headlands and Punta Tosca were cleared and we were on a near downwind run again. Coming out of Bahia Santa Maria:
I eventually dropped the slatting main and poled out the genoa. This is the configuration we are running to this hour.
The weather has been delightfully steady today. Wind and waves have stayed constant, relieving us of much sail trimming duty. In these late hours the air has died down a little and thus has made the jib a little noisy with slats. I'd consider taking it down for the sake of Dan's sleep if it didn't continue to power us along at 5 knots towards Cabo. I've been sitting here on watch since nightfall and am still enjoying myself. I began the watch with book in hand and have now devolved to pencil and scroll. The book was Antoinede Saint Expery's Wind, Sand, and Stars. It's a termite-feasted pages hold many an interesting statement and story. From the philosophical implications of finding peace in one's own death to the purpose of life itself, this paperback holds my interest with an iron grip. As the moon rises, though, my mind loses its clarity. My fatigue had brought me to the point where I could no longer grasp his intellectually-stimulating concepts as easily. So I figure I can pass some more time by picking up my log and blathering on about anything and everything. Every once in a while I prop myself up and make a scan on the horizon for dangers. I continue to perform this duty about every 15 minutes despite the fact that I haven't seen so much as a watt in the distance. I couldn't even see the lighthouse on Punta Tosca when it was 10 nm away. Now to plot the position and then I will spend the rest of my time contemplating the silence with the Pacific.
14:45
Cabo San Lucas is getting closer by the minute. The waypoint I set 5 miles off the Cape is a mere 23nm away and an anchorage in Cabo, 40. We're making about 6 kts with a virile north wind harnessed by a poled out genoa alone. After today's cold front passed, I started to really perceive the environmental changes undergone as we close in proximity to the tropics. This vessel, with me on it, lies at about 23 degrees north now. The “tropics” begin after crossing the appropriately-named Tropic of Cancer at 20 degrees north. Long Beach Harbor lies at 33 degrees north, meaning we've name 10 degrees of southing this month.
The air is warming and along with it the briny body we sail upon. I reached down this morning to rinse a pot and when the nearly lukewarm water kissed my fingers I couldn't help but crack a smile. Our peaceful expanse of water has begun to take on a different hue of blue as well. It is a stark clear, deep blue even when viewing in the quantities of just a bucket. When the sun shines through a wave crest, though, it acquires another shade of blue. A morsel of green is mixed into the shadowy blue, creating an unfathomably dark turquoise.
This passage has been a true cakewalk so far. Our solar panels grab enough energy from Sol to sustain our autopilot all day and all night. The craft is nearly self-sufficient, requiring our touch only when the wind changes and our eyes only when exterior forces bring ships too close.
Since nightfall, yesterday, we haven't seen a single unnatural object. No ships bared their lights on the horizon, no planes have flown overhead, and not even the single stroke of a marine diesel has burst through the wind's tacit breath. Even natural entities have been a rare phenomena. Two or three soaring seagulls, a half dozen sleeping seals, a breaching whale, and, just now, the return of the splendor that is the desert meeting the sea. Here are the seals we found 40 nm out to sea. They were just sleeping on the surface. Lazy bums:
Cabo nears visibly now. The harsh desert mountains are cutting through the all-encompassing haze like the emergence of headlights on a foggy roadway. We will be forced to make anchorage at night once again. It is a heavily trafficked port, so we don't fear a lack of guiding lights. I'm guessing I'll drop anchor into the sand at Land's End at about 2300. We'll surely make to bed soon after that.
March 4, 2010
11:57
We ended up dropping anchor at 0124 last night. Quite a bit later than expected. The wind died off a bit, so we didn't have as much push. We rounded the cape to a blinding display of commercialism. The blinding lights of the hotels lining the beach made it appear as if not a single soul occupied the anchorage. We motored into the wind with me on the bow spotting. All of a sudden a silhouette of a boat passes less than 100 feet across our bow. It showed no lights and the only thing that gave it away was the white wake it created. The Mexican Navy. We're not sure why they like to buzz us, but it makes us feel important.
We continued forward to the shallows off the main channel. It didn't take long to notice there were anchored vessels surrounding us. We ended up anchoring a bit farther in the northeast part of the bay. A sounding before passing out indicated a 35 foot depth at midships. Being confident with that, Dan and I soon fell asleep.
We woke up and the port is bustling. There are two cruise ships and hundreds of people on the white beaches. The sounds of jetskies buzz us frequently and a peer out the windows reveals at least 3 parasailors at a time. Here's me on the bow a bit before it picked up this morning after 8 days at sea.
20:23
Bahia de Tortugas became our second landfall choice for our cruise. We made for the, surprisingly noisy, town of 3,000 mid-morning. This entailed us dropping our respective tenders in the water (Dan his dinghy, me my kayak) and rowing to the beach. The transitions between the water and the land is where difficulty always arises. There was a bit of a small surf crashing on the browned beach, although not too heavy of one. The procedure would be to jam up toward the beach as a wave was going up and catching a ride on it, before hopping off and dragging the vessel up to a secure location. We both managed this rather successfully. We locked our tenders in a T shaped with a bicycle lock (to discourage theft) and headed into town. Here's a shot of the gorgeous bay we were in. Leeway is the sailboat with its mast rising a bit to the right of the closest panga's flag.
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| From To Cabo |
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Feb 23, 2010
08:50
Well now that I'm less exhausted and have had some breakfast, I can tell you all about yesterday's sail. We upped our anchor around 0725 in Bahia de Tortugas and started making towards Bahia de Asuncion. It was only 50 miles away, rhumbline, so we were pretty sure we could make it by sundown. As we started making our way around the headlands we notice the winds are died off, but the whitecaps on the ocean ahead reassured us. Soon after breaking the lee of the headlands, the wind revealed itself. A prominent northwesterly with some gusts. At this time the wind is about 15 knots and is pushing us along at hull speed as we hold up all the sail we can.
Since it's a straight downwind run, we can't make a direct route without dangerously sailing by the lee (a gybe could be devastating in these conditions). So we opt for a southern course planing to tack back in later. The seas are fair-sized, about 4 feet, with a short interval between them, 8 seconds. This basically means the waves are steep. We make 20 nautical miles (nm) on this tack before the winds start to over power the rig. The gusts have started to blow the tops off the now steepening waves. The air is filled with the fine briny spray. Not wanting to douse a sail, Dan puts us on an easterly tack towards our destination. The wearabout was flawless and we were now on a direct course for Bahia de Asuncion, 40 nm away. We were heeled over pretty well on this run and making great speed until the gusts started amping up. Each puff would round us up into the wind putting us beam-on to overpower the sails. We needed to douse a sail and the easiest would be the main. Dan held course while I went into the cabin to find my lifejacket for my venture to the pitching foredeck. As I grabbed my jacket, another gust rounded us up and as a result quickly moved everything inside the cabin from port to starboard side. The sail had to go.
I crawled forward, clipped my jacket onto the mainsail tack, loosened the halyard dog, and doused the main without a hitch. The flaking was done as hilariously as ever (this time with an observer to the comedy) and we were sailing under genoa alone. Curious as to our speed over ground, I checked the GPS that was reading a consistent 8 kts, with pulses up to 10 as we surfed down the steep waves. Helming Leeway in these conditions was incredibly tiriing. We were on a downwind approach with moderate quartering seas. The boat required constant attention to stay on course as the waves pushed the stern around and the gusts rounded the bow up into the wind. As Isla de Asuncion neared, we felt better by the minute.
We rounded the island to a straight beat (as close as we can sail into the wind) into the bay. As soon as we came beam-on to the wind, we heeled as far as we've ever heeled before. Not only the toerail was awash, but we managed to half-bury the starboard winch as well. I sheeted out the jib a bit to lessen the effect of the wind and it worked beautifully. We sailed in, dropped the anchor and have been comfortably in place since. We managed force 5 conditions (fresh breeze), that rose to force 6 (strong breeze) as we started coming in. All in all, it was a wonderfully-exhilarating, tiring experience. Here's the sunset that night, silhouetting the town:
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| From To Cabo |
19:18
We made landfall in yet another Baha fishing town today. On my first impression, I'd have to place Bahia de Asuncion at my favorite town so far. The waters are calm (in prevailing winds), even moreso than Ensenada Harbor, the sun is warm, way moreso than Long Beach, and the people are helpful and kind.
We were unsure if we were going to make landfall today. We were both pretty pooped from yesterday's sail. But a pescadero named Hector came and made it happen. Short after breakfast, Dan and I were sitting in the warming sun enjoying the bay's vista. Included in our panoramic view, there was a panga doing something that attracted a whole lot of winged animals. We stared at them for a while trying to figure out what there were up to when, to our surprise, they started motoring towards us. They pulled up along side us and we exchanged greetings. It was Hector and his mute buddy. They manned a classic Latin American panga and it quickly became clear what they were up to. As we both stumbled along our language barrier, something caught my eye. I looked over just in time to see an octopus (pulpo) slither out of a bucket and fall onto the floor of the panga with a plop. They were octopus trappers! They had been attracting the flying critters with the scattering of useless (to humans) octopus parts.
Hector seemed to be a nice enough guy, so we asked if he would be able to taxi us over to land in exchange for some pesos. He explained that it would be no problem and he would only ask for some hooks and not pesos. So we grabbed our backpacks and hitched a ride on the panga. Upon making landfall, we arranged for a ride back at 1600, 4 hours from then, gave our thanks, and walked up the sandy slope into town.
The first thing I noticed was in how much better condition and how much more orderly the town was compared to Tortugas. There's one main, paved, road running parallel the the shore named Juarez. Off of it sprung many unpaved side streets, the largest of which, Gobierno, even had a median with foliage planted inside. Juarez ran straight from Punta Asuncion all the way to the end of town about two miles in length. From there, it stretched into the barren red landscape of Baja to meet up with Highway 1 100 miles away. Lining the main road were all the major businesses: mercaditos (markets), purificadors (water distribution centers), and some bright pastel homes. There were a few dilapidated cinderblock ruins, but nothing nearing the score of Tortugas. It seems Asuncion didn't fall as hard when the economies tanked. This is Juarez where it begins winding into the desert.
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| From To Cabo |
The atmosphere was warmer here. People would honk and wave at friends as they went by (which seemed to be almost everyone). Passer-bys happily said “buenos dies” and “hola”, some even going out of their way to do so. We had a delicious lunch in a restaurant no larger than a small one bedroom apartment. Very friendly, very good eats. By the time we worked out a way to get some money in town, it was time for Hector to give us our ride back. So we grabbed some cervesas and jugos before our panga arrived.
February 24, 2010
20:50
Today was the worst day yet. We rowed into town early and had to spend the day relaxing in a comfortable beach house with a stunning view. This was each our second time landing our respective tenders on a beach. I led the way with my kayak and implemented the same technique as before: paddle like mad and try to ride a wave in. My timing wasn't quite so lucky this time around. I made it up and beached her right as a wave swamped me from behind. Luckily I had put all my gear: laptop, wallet, passport, camera into a dry bag within my backpack. I came out soaking wet and tread up the beach after securing my kayak to a rock.
We made our way up to the beach house at Campo Sirena with our load for Asuncion: trash from the passages, clothes to be laundered, and laptops to be typed upon. We spend the whole rest of the day hanging around the palapa enjoying the free internet and warm air. Like I said: it was terrible. At the end of the day (about sunset), all our clothes had finished drying in the moistureless desert air and we rowed back. Here is the beach house we made home for a day and the view when you walk out the door and scan to the left. And finally one of me getting ready to make a venture back to the boat (we needed a can opener for our sardine tacos).
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| From To Cabo |
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February 26, 2010
20:19
What a wonderful day of sailing we experienced. We managed to get to our feet around 0900 utilizing copious quantities of coffee and looked towards our next port: San Hipolito. San Hipolito lies only 20 miles southeast of Asuncion and was the next logical step in our gunk-holing adventure. After breakfast we sailed off our hook and made way to Hipolito. The wind and waves were perfect. The dichotomy between today's sail and our last sail was splendidly satistfactory. We caught a 5lb Wahoo for dinner and dodged a whale and calf, other than this it was perfectly uneventful. To finish the day off, we decided to sail onto our anchorage. It was a beam reach into the bay and the wind was building. Dan let loose the jib sheet and I bagged it as we continued towards our anchorage. I then readied the anchoring set up as we neared our location. Dan steered Leeway up into the wind and luffed her mainsail bringing her to a halt. As soon as she went into irons I dropped the Rocna and let out some scope. The wind pushed us back on the hook and set it in the sand below. It was a beautifully executed maneuver and we celebrated with warm beer.
The Wahoo was almost eaten in its entirety. San Hipolito will remain unexplored territory for us. It looks like it is populated by no more than 100 people, so they wouldn't have much for services. Tomorrow we set sail for Bahia de Ballenas, more specifically Punta Abreojos. Here's a classic copper Baja sunset shown to us over Table Mountain in San Hipolito. And following are the birds that take over any boat anchored in San Hipolito:
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| From To Cabo |
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| From To Cabo |
February 28, 2010
11:28
We made Punta Abreojos “open your eyes” and successfully plotted a course around the four close-to-shore dangers its name warns of. On the way there, Dan initiated a surprise man overboard drill using an empty 409 jug as his doppleganger. He calmly explained, “This is me.” and gave the jug a good toss over the edge. “Man overboard, your helm.” I maneuvered back to “him” pretty quickly, but was unable to nab him out of the water with the boathook. After a few more tries and a wrapped up jib, Dan gave up all hope of ever surviving and called off the drill. My only issue arose in the fine handling of the boat and the stalling maneuver. Hopefully there will be many more drills before I ever have to complete this task. This is San Hipolito on departure.
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| From To Cabo |
The sailing was pretty serene until we reached the close of the day. We were visited by a score of different marine mammals including whales (which we must have seen at least 10 of), dolphins, and seals. About 1500 the wind started to pick up. By the time we were safely anchored it must have been blowing mid force 5. And since it was coming from a slightly different direction than usual, this anchorage didn't provide good protection from the swell. We had a rocky night that didn't deliver much sleep, but at least it proved how well I had stowed everything, except for those damn oranges!
We woke up, fully unrested, and had delicious summer sausage omelettes to get our brain cells cranking. We reviewed our current situation: low on food and out of water in the tanks. The whole of the Pacific side of Baja has only small, desolate fishing villages that have no means for us to withdraw cash for more rations. According to a gringo, Sherri, there would be no banks until Cabo San Lucas (400 nm from here). The only option we are left with is to sail for Cabo. It should be a 3 and a half day run at 5 kts. We'll be rationing our water supply by using it only to drink and cook. All washing of dishes for hereon out will be done with salt water.
We're now sailing on our classic run with quartering waves out of Abreojos. Our bearing is 145 degrees and the sailing is smooth.
21:00
I am now standing on watch again. It feels like it's been quite a while since I've done this, but it hasn't really. My last night watch experience was outside Bahia de Tortugas and I was dodging freighters the whole night. This one is a much nicer setting. The 10-15 knot wind prevailing norhtwest winds are continuing into the night. I am flying a sheeted out main alone. Not because the jib was over-powering us, but because it was being the wind shadow of the main. Nevertheless, we are still making wonderful time at about 7 kts. My only complaint would be the waves. They are once again quartering, making for an awkward ride. In addition they have recently developed a steepening tendency. This is giving the auto-tiller a little trouble, so we're wallowing around a bit. It's still better than last night's anchorage though.
The full moon rose about the same time darkness set in. It brings our every detail of the swell that is passing by. I'd say the wave height is 1 foot while the swell is about 3 and a half at the tallest. The moonlight truly dances upon the surface of these waves. During last month's full moon (when we were just getting out of LA), the full moon was almost always obscured by clouds. I'm glad to have witnessed this sight unabated.
With lower latitudes has come a different night watch attire. Instead of donning tow pairs of socks with pants tucked in, two pairs of pants with shirts tucked in, and four layers upon my torso, I now wear a pair of jeans with bottoms rolled up and just three layers upon my chest. I have no need for the worn our pair of leather gloves I once used to keep my fingers functional, nor any sort of foot garment. We haven't worn any shoes while sailing since Tortugas. We like to repeatedly test the gaining temperature of the sea by having our little toesies wet in the cockpit sole.
March 2, 2010
11:20
Late last evening we decided to alter course for Bahia Magdalena. There were a few contributing factors to this change of plans. As the afternoon transitioned to dusk, the clouds started to tell a tale. There came up a quick-moving, altocirrus formation from the east northeast. This spells a change in weather. They came from a direction that might indicate cyclonic deterioration, so we, not wanting to brave a gale on the sea, decided to take shelter. The wind has now shifted to the south this morning, proving at least some truth to the cloud's tale. We'll watch the situation to see how it develops. We came into Bahia Santa Maria (a bay outside of Magdelena) late last night. We used the beaming moon as our light and set anchor in 33 ft of water, using a mountain as shelter from the wind. The sleep was stupendous and we're readying to depart for Cabo right now. Here is the fishing camp in Bahia Santa Maria, it looks as if it's total population couldn't exceed 10.
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| From To Cabo |
March 3, 2010
00:24
Assured of fair weather by my father, we set out for Cabo around 1200. Where once we had been weary and restless, we are now hopeful and genial. Although the scare into the anchorage was a bit unfounded, the replenished energy of a hard night's sleep was more than enough to make up for the little lost time. A sail-off the anchorage accompanied by my hoisting of the genoa got us moving out of the still waters of Bahia Santa Maria and back into the ocean swell. The seas were large (about 7 feet), but wide so they did not cause much trouble. Our winds were a 10-15kt blow that put us on a hull-speed reach. The necessary headlands and Punta Tosca were cleared and we were on a near downwind run again. Coming out of Bahia Santa Maria:
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| From To Cabo |
I eventually dropped the slatting main and poled out the genoa. This is the configuration we are running to this hour.
The weather has been delightfully steady today. Wind and waves have stayed constant, relieving us of much sail trimming duty. In these late hours the air has died down a little and thus has made the jib a little noisy with slats. I'd consider taking it down for the sake of Dan's sleep if it didn't continue to power us along at 5 knots towards Cabo. I've been sitting here on watch since nightfall and am still enjoying myself. I began the watch with book in hand and have now devolved to pencil and scroll. The book was Antoinede Saint Expery's Wind, Sand, and Stars. It's a termite-feasted pages hold many an interesting statement and story. From the philosophical implications of finding peace in one's own death to the purpose of life itself, this paperback holds my interest with an iron grip. As the moon rises, though, my mind loses its clarity. My fatigue had brought me to the point where I could no longer grasp his intellectually-stimulating concepts as easily. So I figure I can pass some more time by picking up my log and blathering on about anything and everything. Every once in a while I prop myself up and make a scan on the horizon for dangers. I continue to perform this duty about every 15 minutes despite the fact that I haven't seen so much as a watt in the distance. I couldn't even see the lighthouse on Punta Tosca when it was 10 nm away. Now to plot the position and then I will spend the rest of my time contemplating the silence with the Pacific.
14:45
Cabo San Lucas is getting closer by the minute. The waypoint I set 5 miles off the Cape is a mere 23nm away and an anchorage in Cabo, 40. We're making about 6 kts with a virile north wind harnessed by a poled out genoa alone. After today's cold front passed, I started to really perceive the environmental changes undergone as we close in proximity to the tropics. This vessel, with me on it, lies at about 23 degrees north now. The “tropics” begin after crossing the appropriately-named Tropic of Cancer at 20 degrees north. Long Beach Harbor lies at 33 degrees north, meaning we've name 10 degrees of southing this month.
The air is warming and along with it the briny body we sail upon. I reached down this morning to rinse a pot and when the nearly lukewarm water kissed my fingers I couldn't help but crack a smile. Our peaceful expanse of water has begun to take on a different hue of blue as well. It is a stark clear, deep blue even when viewing in the quantities of just a bucket. When the sun shines through a wave crest, though, it acquires another shade of blue. A morsel of green is mixed into the shadowy blue, creating an unfathomably dark turquoise.
This passage has been a true cakewalk so far. Our solar panels grab enough energy from Sol to sustain our autopilot all day and all night. The craft is nearly self-sufficient, requiring our touch only when the wind changes and our eyes only when exterior forces bring ships too close.
Since nightfall, yesterday, we haven't seen a single unnatural object. No ships bared their lights on the horizon, no planes have flown overhead, and not even the single stroke of a marine diesel has burst through the wind's tacit breath. Even natural entities have been a rare phenomena. Two or three soaring seagulls, a half dozen sleeping seals, a breaching whale, and, just now, the return of the splendor that is the desert meeting the sea. Here are the seals we found 40 nm out to sea. They were just sleeping on the surface. Lazy bums:
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| From To Cabo |
Cabo nears visibly now. The harsh desert mountains are cutting through the all-encompassing haze like the emergence of headlights on a foggy roadway. We will be forced to make anchorage at night once again. It is a heavily trafficked port, so we don't fear a lack of guiding lights. I'm guessing I'll drop anchor into the sand at Land's End at about 2300. We'll surely make to bed soon after that.
March 4, 2010
11:57
We ended up dropping anchor at 0124 last night. Quite a bit later than expected. The wind died off a bit, so we didn't have as much push. We rounded the cape to a blinding display of commercialism. The blinding lights of the hotels lining the beach made it appear as if not a single soul occupied the anchorage. We motored into the wind with me on the bow spotting. All of a sudden a silhouette of a boat passes less than 100 feet across our bow. It showed no lights and the only thing that gave it away was the white wake it created. The Mexican Navy. We're not sure why they like to buzz us, but it makes us feel important.
We continued forward to the shallows off the main channel. It didn't take long to notice there were anchored vessels surrounding us. We ended up anchoring a bit farther in the northeast part of the bay. A sounding before passing out indicated a 35 foot depth at midships. Being confident with that, Dan and I soon fell asleep.
We woke up and the port is bustling. There are two cruise ships and hundreds of people on the white beaches. The sounds of jetskies buzz us frequently and a peer out the windows reveals at least 3 parasailors at a time. Here's me on the bow a bit before it picked up this morning after 8 days at sea.
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| From To Cabo |
Danaka, we haven't met but I'm a friend of Dan's in Ft. Collins. I'm enjoying reading your posts tremendously.. it's almost like being there. :-) Enjoy Cabo!
ReplyDeleteJohn
It's been fabulous to read your posts about the trip so far. Please tell brother Daniel 'hello'.
ReplyDeleteThank you guys! I'll send my regards to el capitan. The sardine tacos? Not my favorite. Dan apparently used to live off canned sardines, I don't think I could lead such a life.
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