April 20, 2008 -- El Cardoncito, Isla Partida -- N 24 degrees 32' 17"/W 110 degrees 23' 24.7"
15.7nm for the day; 421.8 nm cruised on the trip overall

Last night we were treated with a rip roaring coromuel wind while anchored in Ballandra. The coromuel is a form of night time wind unique to the La Paz area. It's kind of like a land breeze on steroids. The coromuel most frequently occurs in spring and summer, and is the result of low land forms in the La Paz region, which offer very little resistance to air flowing from the Pacific to the Sea. A variety of factors combine to frequently generate surprisingly strong WSW winds at night, and when the coromuel blows, anyone anchored in a place open to the southwest will be in for a bouncy night. Fortunately for us, we were tucked into a spot facing east, and with a tall, steep bluff right behind the beach to the west and south of our position. Despite these favorable conditions, we were regularly hit by strong gusts through the night, which set the rigging to humming.

A light breeze was still blowing in the morning. I poked around on the SSB radio for a while before finally locating the Sonrisa and Amigo net broadcasts. It seems that both made the switch to daylight savings time while we were in La Paz, and their broadcasts came an hour later than I've been expecting. Settled weather is predicted in the Sea for the next several days, which will suit our planned slow pace of travel through the intruiging islands in this region.

Our crossing of the San Lorenzo Channel was far more comfortable than our southbound passage almost a week earlier. The seas this morning were settled, and the wind light. Upon reaching Isla Spiritu Santo, we poked into every bay and cove we encountered. Each has its own special characteristics and beauty. Strange and colorful rock formations, pure white sand beaches, verdant mangrove thickets. One large bay, Ensenada del Candelero, hosted a large kayak encampment, which looked to be a semi-permanent commercial concession type operation. We passed that place by, and stopped for lunch at Ensenada de la Ballena, a nice cove with emerald green water and a broad white sand beach. Following lunch we rowed ashore and walked the soft sand beach, looking for shells. Instead of shells, we discovered a large number of what look to be fish vertebra. They were weathered disks, bleached white in the sun. They have a distinct and pleasing shape, and would look very interesting strung together into a necklace. We collected dozens of them. I cooled off with a quick dip, and it felt very refreshing. We also found two curious looking arcs of boulders near the high tide line. Large rocks were lined up, in a curved line. We've seen these patterns before, in Hawaii and in coastal British Columbia, where they've been positively identified as the remains of fish traps, built by native peoples many years ago. The ones we saw at Ensenada de la Ballena looked just like the others we've seen, and I'm sure they are the remains of man-made fish traps.

We rowed back to the boat, raised anchor, and motored about 5 miles northward, to El Cardoncito. I was attracted to this spot for several reasons. First, it is an intimate anchorage, with room for only 1 or 2 boats, and I hoped we would be the one and only boat there today. Also, of all the anchorages in this area, it is least vulnerable to coromuel winds. Lastly, an excellent snorkeling and diving reef is located near the southern entrance to El Cardoncito. We glassed the little inlet from its mouth. A half dozen or so kayaks were on the beach, however, we could see that they were preparing to leave. A dive boat at the entrance also pulled out as we made our approach. It was as if they all knew we liked our privacy, and were more than glad to accommodate us. By the time we set our hook a hundred yards off the beach, we had the place to ourselves.

This narrow indentation in the shoreline of Isla Partida is strikingly beautiful. Red rock canyon walls rise steeply from the water's edge along both flanks. The rocks rise in rugged vertical steps, and feature a fascinating range of forms and shapes, not dramatic in scale, but nonetheless striking to view. Visible are numerous alcoves, arches and small, shallow caves. Some of the rocks appear honeycombed, pocked with delicately latticed pockets and holes. These steep slopes are beautifully landscaped with stately cardon cactus, agave (some in bloom) beavertail cactus, and palo verde trees.

We quickly grabbed our snorkel gear and climbed into the dinghy. The water here is still cool, about 70 degrees at the head of the inlet, and a degree or two cooler at the entrance. We squeezed into our spring wetsuits and motored out toward the reef. Sandy has a very difficult time coping with cool water temperatures, and I was really proud of her willingness to give this spot a try. We glided out into the water and explored the boulders near the south entrance. A nice variety of fish, some brilliantly colored, scurried for cover as we floated by. We were pleased to find a number of coral heads in amongst the boulders. Perhaps most beautiful were the almost irridescent purple sea fans, which were attached to rocks in protected crevasses. After about 30 minutes Sandy needed to warm up, and truth be known, so did I. We retreated to the rock shelf where we had started. Sandy got into the dinghy and rowed out, while I got back in the water and kicked my way out to the main reef, about 250 yards out. I passed over deep water getting out to the reef, and felt very uncomfortable kicking my way along, without being able to see bottom. I kind of felt like one of those surface bass lures I like to fish with, the kind that sputter and splash their way across the top of the water, until a lunker bass bashes into them. I was relieved to finally approach the reef structure, which consists of a massive boulder field, rising up from the depths. I explored in and around the boulders, seeing many of the same types of fish and coral formations we'd earlier seen close to shore. I did spot a couple nice sized fish, and took a shot at one of them with my pole spear, narrowly missing. It would be spagetti for dinner tonight after all. I was beginning to tire and chill, so I climbed atop a large boulder and stood up in waist deep water. Sandy rowed over and picked me up, and we motored back to the boat.

The warmth of the afternoon was perfectly balanced by the breeze flowing down the canyon at the head of our inlet. We rinsed the salt off with the solar shower and enjoyed the pleasant afternoon sun. That spaghetti dinner, complete with a nice merlot, fresh salad, focaccio bread, candel light, guitar music on the CD, and a sky softly tinted with the blush of sunset, was a meal to remember. After dinner we turned the music off and sipped our coffee, listening to the water lapping along the shore, and to the cascading notes of the canyon wren echoing off the rocky slopes.