It's been 10 days since we pulled out of the driveway in
Leavenworth WA. A foot of snow still covered the lawn on the
day we left. We've now traveled 1,810 miles south, and tonight
we're sitting in an RV park only 30 miles above the Mexican
border. However, it seems like winter wasn't ready to give us
her leave, and has caught up with us here. Air temps got as low
as 44 degrees during the day's drive, and we passed through
several chilly downpours, and a couple of hail storms. The sky
island mountains to the southwest are dusted with fresh snow. A
raw 20 mph wind is blowing from the northwest. We're tucked
into the boat cabin, with the winter side of the sleeping bag
up, and the Wallas stove heater going full blast. We hope this
wintry weather blows through quickly.
The drive south has gone mostly well. We're fortunate to have family members strategically positioned about every 450 miles along the route. With layover stops in Klamath Falls OR, Folsom CA, Los Angeles CA, and Chandler AZ, we've been enjoying a traveling reunion with close family members.
The truck is running very well, and I've been averaging 16 mpg, which is remarkable, given the load we're towing. The trailer, however, has been the occasion of a running series of aggravating problems. Trouble began as a result of the rotten condition of I-5 in the San Joaquin Valley. Extensive stretches of concrete surface are badly fractured, and large chunks have settled an inch or two. These hazards are impossible to dodge, and they really jolted us on many occasions. At a rest area just outside LA I discovered that a weld on one of the trailer fenders had broken. I've been in the custom of hooking the tie down strap to the fender bracket, and the jolting had been just too much for the weld. The fender was attached at only one end. I repositioned the strap, and made it to my folks place, where I bolted an aluminum angle brace to the frame to stabilize the fender.
While at mom and dads, I attempted to jack the boat off the trailer bunks, one end at a time, so I could apply anti-fouling wax to the hull. I've done this operation before, using the wheel jack at the front of the trailer. However, on this occasion, when I'd nearly lifted the hull free of the trailer, something inside the jack stripped out. I ended up purchasing and installing a bolt-on pivot jack, and finished the wax job with the aid of my truck jack, which I should have used in the first place.
Next problem occurred on the drive to Phoenix. We left at 5:30 am to avoid getting stuck in the LA freeway traffic. We stopped for breakfast in Banning. I checked the trailer, and discovered that my aluminum angle bracket had failed, and the fender was once again attached at only one end. To make matters worse, the jagged end had started sawing through the tie down strap. I repositioned the strap and we continued our drive toward Phoenix. About an hour out of Phoenix, I made one of my periodic mirror checks of the trailer, and found myself looking at an exposed tire where my broken fender had once been. The whole thing had broken free. I stopped at the first opportunity, and was relieved to find that no damage had been done to the boat or to the trailer lights when the fender broke free. To top things off, I picked up a nice rock ding in the windshield about 30 miles further on.
Upon arriving at my sister's place in Chandler AZ, I located a
windshield repair place and got the ding sealed. By the time I
got back to the house, my brother in law had ingeniously
fabricated a steel bracket, to which he'd bolted a makeshift mud
flap out of a plastic bucket lid. It looks rather crude, but
does quite a good job of covering the tire tread from the rear.
Hopefully, the cops will not find fault with this setup. I
probably won't be able to do a more complete repair until after
we return home. I brought quite a few repair and replacement
parts along for this trip, including a spare tiedown strap, but
a spare trailer fender wasn't one of them.
Tomorrow, we will cross the border. We'll rise fairly early, fix breakfast in the boat, then drive to the Nogales area. We've done lots of homework, and will learn then whether we've got it right. Hopefully, by this time tomorrow night, the boat will be floating in a slip at the San Carlos Marina.
March 17, 2008 - Totonaka RV Park, San Carlos, Sonora, Mexico
I awoke around 6 am, and the boat cabin felt like the inside of a deep freeze, which wasn't surprising, given the 32 degree inside temperature. Outside, the boat and truck were pebbled with frozen rain droplets. The mountains to the southeast were blanketed with snow almost to their base.
We fired up the heater/stove and had coffee and cereal in the
slowly warming cabin. Then I hitched up and we proceeded toward
the border. There was a long line of vehicles cued up on the
Mexican side of the border, waiting to reenter the US. As for
us, we just drove on across the border without even so much as
stopping. About 18 miles beyond, we reached the expected
stopping area, where we obtained our tourist permits and boat
importation permit. The lines were almost non-existent, and the
officials were very friendly and helpful. Some spoke good
English, and some rather broken English, but we were well
prepared with our documents and copies, and it went well.
We then headed south on Sonoran Highway 15. This is a divided 4 lane highway, which, for the most part, has a good driving surface. It's a bit chuckholed in a few stretches, but nothing like I-5 in Southern California. The most noteworthy thing about this highway is its shoulders, or rather, lack thereof. Along most stretches, there is about a 6 inch drop from pavement to dirt, and then the dirt road base slopes down at a 45 degree slope for about 10 feet. Even though much of the road travels along level terrain, the whole thing seems like mountain driving, with severe consequences if you ever dropped a wheel over the fog line. In the small towns along the way, sharply pitched speed bumps cross the highway. Anything over 5 mph there would be disastrous.
The sides of the road are heavily littered, especially in the
vicinity of towns. They do have litter barrels at regular
intervals, however most are impossible to safely access, due to
the lack of shoulders or turnouts. This doesn't discourage
their use, however, since each one has accumulated a great heap
of trash, strewn about around its base. My best guess is that
the barrels are used as targets, with trash being thrown out as
cars drive by. The barrels are mounted on welded frames, and
are suspended above the ground. Those that are on turnouts have
just as much trash lying around them, and I never saw one
overflowing at the top. My best guess is that these barrels
lack bottoms, and are used like basketball nets. The trash must
be tossed in, and then fall out the bottom. We did see a couple
of litter cleanup crews, working along the side of the road. By
the looks of things, they are guaranteed an ample supply of work
well into the future.
We saw a few Federales, and one military checkpoint on the northbound lanes. One car was freshly off the road on our side, with emergency lights flashing, but there was no way I could stop, given the curving location and lack of shoulder. This is a toll road, with 3 toll plazas along the way, which cost us about $7.50 per stop. Roadside shrines occur regularly alongside the route, perhaps marking spots where unfortunate drivers paid the ultimate toll. I worried about getting a flat tire, since it would be impossible to safely stop for many miles, in most places. However, we experienced no problems at all. No flats, no traffic tickets, no wrong turns, and not even a close call.
Nonetheless, we were glad to finally reach San Carlos, around
4:30 pm. The temperature had reached a high in the upper 60's,
and a brisk wind was coming in from the west. We stopped to
fill the boat's gas tanks at a Pemex station outside town, and
then drove over to the marina. By time we got there, they had
closed for the day. I met a guy named Peter, who teaches
Spanish, and he showed me where things were. He has a friend
with secure parking, and he thought his friend could give us a
better deal than the marina's parking. We plan to come back
tomorrow morning to launch the boat and get set up. We will
stay the night in a slip, if they can accommodate us. We then
drove back through town to an RV park we saw in the drive in.
We are registered there for tonight. It's a nice place, very
clean and located just across the road from the Sea of Cortez.
Once the boat was unhitched and leveled, we walked out to the
highway, in search of dinner. We walked by a promising place
with a great view of the sea. They had a great steak and shrimp
special, with free margerita. A couple of employees standing
there by their chalkboard sign invited us in, and we accepted
the invitation. We definitely didn't regret the choice. We sat
at an open air table, sheltered from the wind, with a stunning
view of the bay. Gulls and pelicans circled out over the water.
The drinks and dinner were excellent. Midway through the meal,
a Mexican lady with a lovely guitar strolled in and asked us if
we'd like her to play a song. We said yes, and she played and
sang a lovely romantic song. I handed her a 50 peso note when
she had finished, and she seemed pleased with the tip. She
later sang at the next table, and had to inform the Americans
there that they should pay for her singing. She said the rate
was 40 pesos per song. I felt I'd opted for the right amount.
We really enjoyed her song, and the warmth which accompanied her
singing. The folks at that next table were a lot of fun,
though. They were from Philadelphia, and the guy is a bar
singer himself. He ended up singing to the Mariachis in a fine
tenor voice, while they tried to follow along with their
guitars. It being St. Patrick's Day, he favored Irish ballads.
We all got a laugh when one of the Mariachis broke out in a
perfect rendition of "Danny Boy". After dinner, we went for a
stroll along the waterfront walk, enjoying the last light of
sunset. In the distance we could see the faint outline of the
Baja side. Even though it is over 70 miles away, some of the
peaks there are 6 to 7 thousand feet high. We look forward to
our crossing in a few days. Hopefully, the weather will be
suitable by Thursday or Friday.
March 18, 2008 - Slip D 28, San Carlos Marina
It's almost 9 pm, and we're both beat. It's been a very busy
day. We drove the unhitched truck over to the marina around
7:30 am, to grab some breakfast and see about launching the
boat. I scheduled a 10 am sling launch, and then we had
breakfast at the boaters' hangout called Barracuda Bob's. Food
was great, and it was warm enough to sit outside. After
breakfast I looked up my new friend Peter, who had confirmed
long term parking with his friend Al. Al agreed to meet me at
the marina tomorrow at 11:30 so I could follow him to his
parking facility.
Then we drove over to the nearby market and bought seven 5 gallon jugs of purified water. I hauled them back to the boat, which we'd left at the RV park, and filled the drinking water tanks. The water cost 14 pesos per gallon, but the deposit on the jugs was 50 pesos per jug. We returned the jugs and then went back for the boat. We hitched up and got to the marina right at 10 am. After tending to the paperwork, they did a fine job slinging the boat into the water. Chinook was finally in contact with the Sea of Cortez. We climbed aboard, lowered rudders and partial centerboard, started the 50 hp and putted over to our slip.
Then began the work. We hauled gear down from the truck, and
started rigging. While we were at this task a Macgregor Classic
pulled into the slip next to ours. She belongs to Rich, who
happens to be a member of the
Tuscon Sailors Club,
and a heck of a nice guy. He ended up accompanying us on a
grocery trip to the big store in Guaymas. After shopping we all
went out to dinner and swapped sailing stories. It was a fine
time.
After dinner it was back to the boat and more work. I worked at finishing rigging and attaching gear topside while Sandy packaged and stowed groceries. We were both worn out by the time we reached a stopping point. We've gotten lots done today, and hopefully can wrap up tomorrow morning with time available for showers. I'd like to pull out of the marina around 1 pm, and maybe head over to Martini Cove, which is just a short ways north of the marina.
March 19, 2008 - At anchor in Martini Cove
We rose to a lovely morning. We ate a breakfast of muffins and
coffee in the cockpit. While enjoying the colors of sunlight on
the red rock cliffs around the marina, I spotted an interesting
looking gull. I got the bird book out, and while looking it up,
one of the brown pelicans which regularly patrol the marina dove
on a fish. He smacked the water about 3 feet to my left, and
totally drenched me, my coffee mug, and bird book with his
splash.
After breakfast we finished prepping the boat for our cruise. I rinsed the road dust off with Rich's dock hose and filled the porta-potty and solar shower. Sandy and I both showered at the marina bathhouse. One major task was trying to get the Wallas stove working. It ran for us on the drive down, but at our last stop, just north of Nogales, it failed to light. The red starter light just blinked when I turned it on. The manual said that behavior indicated low voltage. I checked the power connection, the in line fuse, and the connection to the panel. All were good, and it still failed to start. I got out the ScanMarine card, where we bought the unit. Rich loaned me his cell phone, since ours isn't set on the right plan for here. I got a call through to Mike at ScanMarine first try. I described the problem and he said he was confident that the wire connection between the blower hood and the stove was the cause. I thanked him, hung up, and checked that wire. Sure enough, the black wire had come loose. Nearly impossible to spot unless you're specifically looking for it. I scored big time points with Sandy for fixing the stove. Thanks Mike of ScanMarine for helping me look good.
Around 11 am I went over to the marina office and hitched the empty trailer to the truck. I'd arranged to meet Al of Al's Mini Storage there at 11:30. We met and I followed him out to his storage facility, about 3 miles from the marina. He's a neat guy, about my age, and has a small fenced yard with barbed wire on top and a watchdog on patrol. He lives directly across the street, so I feel very good about leaving the truck there. He even thought he could install a new fender on the trailer while we're out. He gave me a ride back to the marina, and after lunch we made ready to depart.
The calm morning had given way to a stiffening breeze which was
whipping through the marina. Yesterday afternoon it had built
to a very gusty wind. I was counting on today's weather to be a
little lighter. We left our slip around 2 pm, and followed the
narrow, twisting channel out of San Carlos Bay. My destination
was Martini Cove, just a short distance away. We wanted to be
clear of the marina, which was rather noisy last night, and get
started on our cruise. We're both glad we made this move.
Martini Cove is a lovely spot, just 2 nm from the marina, but
completely screened from view. There are no houses nearby, and
only the lights of Guaymas, many miles away across the Bay, hint
of civilization.
We anchored in the cove, sharing it with a few dive boats which use the area for dive training. It's dark now, and all have left except us - just like Cunningham's cruise guide book said. The shoreline is rugged and heavily vegetated with cactus. There are lots of pelicans, gulls, and the occasional frigate bird. The northwest wind which was present when we anchored shifted to a very gusty land breeze by late afternoon. It appeared that we were dragging, so we reset the anchor. When I got it up I discovered a boulder about the size of a small watermelon hooked in the Bruce claw. The gusts reached a measured 18.5 knots, which was amazing since we were only a hundred yards from shore, and the land looked to offer protection. I think they call this type of gusty afternoon land breeze a chubasco around here. Tomorrow we'll head up the coast about 15 miles, to Bahia San Pedro, and hang out there for dinner. If conditions are good, and the forecast is favorable, we'll begin our crossing after dinner.
March 20, 2008 - Bahai San Pedro - 16.4 nm
It's late afternoon. We're swinging at anchor in Bahia San
Pedro, a nice sheltered spot comfortably away from the buzz of
San Carlos. We're sharing the spot with a half dozen boats,
both power and sail. They are undoubtedly the quietest, most
laid back bunch of cruisers I've ever encountered. This is a
very good thing, too. I've been fighting a cold I picked up
while visiting relatives during the drive down, and I didn't
sleep well last night. Around 6 pm this evening we'll raise
anchor and make our moonlight, overnight passage across to Santa
Rosalia, on the Baja side. With temperatures in the low 70's, a
light cooling breeze breathing across the bay, a completely calm
sea, and the loudest sound being the water lapping up on the
gravel beach, conditions were perfect for a couple catch up
naps, and we both took full advantage.
The run up here from Martini Cove was most pleasant. The 50 hp purred smoothly, and I really love the feel of the new steering I installed last winter. This side trip up the coast wasn't necessary for our route, but I thought it would serve well as a shakedown cruise, since I hadn't had a chance to run the boat before we left home. So far, all systems are go. The new solar panel and Engel 35 frig are both working out well. When I got up this morning, the internal frig temp was 37, and the house batteries were sitting at 12.68 volts. If this keeps up, we should have no problems supporting the frig and other electrical draws, even when we hit warmer weather.
I dragged a fishing lure behind us on the run up to here, but
had no luck. I don't think I'll bother putting a line out
during the crossing. I've rigged a jack line from the cockpit
to the bow, on the port side, and whoever is running the boat
will wear both lifejacket and safety harness, clipped to the
line, during the crossing. I had planned on motor sailing with
the main, but given the total lack of wind today, I don't think
there will be any point in raising the sail. We'll need to
dress warmly, since the night time temps have been in the high
50's, and we will have at least 6 knots of apparent wind, given
our planned cruising speed. I have a spotlight plugged in and
ready for use, and we'll wear headlamps to see things near at
hand. However, given the fact that we're one day shy of a full
moon, and the skies will be clear, I expect the visibility to be
excellent. I think a 70 nm crossing, on calm seas and pleasant
temperatures, under a bright moon will be an experience to
remember. I'll take the first watch, a long one, while Sandy
catches some sleep below. Between 11pm and midnight, depending
on how I'm feeling, I'll wake her so I can take a break. I'll
try to snooze in the cockpit, and then, after 2 or 3 hours, take
over again. At least that's the plan. Well, dinner is almost
ready, so I'll sign off for now.
We raised anchor and departed Bahia San Pedro at 6:20 pm, just
as the sun was setting, and the full moon rising. The sunset
projected pastel shades on the rippling sea as we headed for the
north end of San Pedro Island, some 7 miles distant. In the
failing light we spotted a pair of whales, about a half mile
off. By the time we reached San Pedro Island night had settled
in. I took the first watch, and steered the boat by the light
of the full moon until midnight. I ran at 2100 rpm, averaging
very nearly 6 knots. There was no need for motoring faster, as
I didn't want to arrive at Santa Rosalia prior to sunrise. The
night air was quite chilly, and I wished I'd dressed a bit more
warmly.
Sandy took over from midnight until 2:30 pm, which gave me time to warm up and nap a bit. I completed the run into Santa Rosalia, after her watch. You begin to see the lights of Santa Rosalia from about 30 miles out. For hours I motored toward those lights. It seemed like we were never going to get there. We got in at 7 am, just after the moon had set and the sun had risen. It was dead flat the whole way across. I'm told it was the calmest weather they've had to date this year.
We're now tucked into a slip at the new Singlar Mar de Cortes
marina in Santa Rosalia. It is a brand new facility, built by
the Mexican government to try encouraging cruising boat traffic
in this area. It hasn't taken off yet, judging by the lack of
boats in the marina. I hope their efforts succeed. We will be
hanging out here for the next several days, before starting our
gunkholing explore of Baja as far as La Paz.
March 22, 2008 - Singlar Marina, Santa Rosalia
Layover day in Santa Rosalia. A breeze came up in the middle of
the night, and I realized I'd forgotten to bungee the halyards
to the shrouds, and they were slapping the mast. I got up and
secured them. 2 am, and the pelicans were still diving on fish
in the marina.
I heard Howard in the next slip over listening to a cruisers net on his ham radio. I asked him for the frequency and was pleased to be able to tune it in on my portable SSB receiver set. If I can continue to hear this broadcast, we will have good access to weather reports.
After breakfast I tore into the king berth storage area, and reorganized things. Much better now. We walked into town with friends from 2 other boats, and did some grocery shopping. While I was waiting near the checkout counter, the young woman at the register gave me a coy smile, followed by an unmistakable fluttering of eyelashes. I thought, wow, 60 years old and I've still got it. Then she shyly pointed toward my left shoulder and fluttered her eyelashes some more. Then it hit me. She wanted me to take her picture. As I got the camera ready, she grabbed 2 of her women coworkers, and as I aimed the camera, they hugged close together with 3 lovely smiles. I showed them the picture, and they all laughed and thoroughly enjoyed the moment.
After shopping we all went out to lunch, and had a great time telling stories. I noticed a guy at a nearby table who had a Plain Washington shirt on. I talked with him, and sure enough, he and his wife live only 15 miles from our home. Small world.
Back at the boat we stowed the groceries, and Sandy went up to
do laundry. I got the hose out and rinsed salt off the boat.
The folks in the slip immediately next to us had returned from
fishing, and he again had landed a beautiful yellowtail, about
25 pounds, and a small, totally crimson red fish. I've never
seen anything like it. He most generously gave me one of his
special jigs, and passed on advice on fishing for yellowtail.
He said I needed at least 30 lb test line, tied directly to the
jig. Yellowtail are incredibly strong fish, which can run up to
50 lbs in size. They're real battlers. I hope I get the chance
to tangle with one.
I helped Rich get clear of the dock with his 50 foot long triple masted aluminum sailboat. It was very difficult, since a fairly strong breeze had him pinned to the dock. He ended up running a line across to the upwind slip and winching his boat off the dock, so we could manually ease her back. Once in that position, he was able to motor free. His boat weighs 55,000 pounds, so such operations can be really challenging.
Both Sandy and I took showers in the beautiful new facilities this afternoon. We couldn't shower yesterday because there was no hot water. We were told that they were out of propane, but that delivery would be today, and they would have hot water this afternoon. By mid afternoon the water was still cool. We later learned that the story here last year was also that the water would be hot manana. Oh well, the showers are beautiful, with nice local tile, and spotless. The cold showers were most bracing.
March 23, 2008 - Easter Sunday, Santa Rosalia
Clear skies this morning, but breezy. We had breakfast in the
cockpit, enjoying the sweet rolls we purchased yesterday at the
Boleo Bakery
. Excellent. Around 8:15 we strolled into town and
up to the church. The doors were open, but it didn't look like
9 am was the likely start time. We asked, and learned that the
mass would begin at 10 am. We spent the extra time walking
around town. One shop had a sign saying "English spoken here"
so we popped in and enjoyed conversation with the lady there.
We wandered further up town, and found ourselves standing in
front of a narrow, old wooden church. While admiring the
weathered architecture I heard a voice behind me. This short,
old man with a very weathered face was attempting to explain
something to me about the building. Despite the language
barrier, I began picking up bits and pieces. He wanted to tell
me about the mining history of the area. I asked him if he'd
worked in the mines and he said "No". Rather, he had been a
heavy equipment operator. He also communicated, with the aid of
pantomime, a funny story from his youth. He used to sit on one
side of the ravine where the town is located, and shoot at
latrines across on the other side. He also indicated that his
father had whipped his backside for this behavior. It's amazing
how communication becomes possible, despite a language barrier,
when someone wants to tell you his story.
The church service was a wonderful experience. We were the only
norte americanos present. About 15 minutes before the start, a
short little man who reminded me very much of an elderly
Anthony
Quinn, range the church bells. He had a definite style and
rythem, pulling the two bell ropes in alternating cadence.
Music was provided by a pair of guitars and a tamborine, and a
choir of 6 women, and they were both enthusiastic and excellent.
The priest was a tall, husky Mexican man, who displayed a
friendly smile throughout the mass. He was an impressive
orator, and I wish I could have understood the homily. The mass
was very well attended, with a number of worshippers standing
along the sides. We felt warmly welcomed there.
After church we returned to the boat. I refilled the main boat tanks from my jerry cans, using a siphon hose with a brass fitting on one end. A few quick shakes gets the siphon action going, and it's a very effective way to transfer gas into the main 12 gallon tanks, through the access panels installed in the cockpit seats. I was able to calculate that we had used 12 gallons thus far on the trip, averaging 7 mpg while exclusively motoring. That was at 2100 rpm, and no dinghy trailing behind. Mileage will probably decline from here on, since I now have the dinghy in the water. I toted the empty jerry cans up to the Pemex station across the road from the marina, and got them refilled. Gas here is just under $3/gallon.
Meanwhile, Sandy was putting a fruit salad together for the
potluck being organized by one of our power boat neighbors. We
gathered on the aft deck of a lovely 50 footer and had a
delightful afternoon.
It's been breezy all day, and outside the marina the Sea has been nothing but whitecaps. We wanted to leave tomorrow morning, so I could try yellowtail fishing off the north end of San Marco Island, but I'm now thinking it will be better to hang out here a day longer. The weather is supposed to settle tomorrow, and given a little time, the swells should subside. Tuesday will definitely be a better day for fishing.
March 24, 2008 - Santa Rosalia Marina
Last evening we decided that, if the weather forecast was
favorable, we'd depart manana. I think I'm starting to settle
into the lifestyle down here. It's a day later, and we may
leave manana.
We got up at sunrise and listened to the SSB net weather report while enjoying a comfortable breakfast. Forecast for today on the Sea of Cortez was for flat conditions all day, and in fact for the next week. We decided to take our time, walk into town to post some mail at the post office, visit the mining museum, grab one last shower, hopefully this time with hot water, and then pull out after lunch. The museum was highly interesting, with old photographs, 19th century mining equipment, old office machines and other artifacts nicely displayed. Some of the information plaques were in English, but we were able to get the gist of things on many that were just in Spanish.
A final note about showers. When we first arrived, we were told by Carlos that there was no how water because of a lack of propane, but that delivery would occur on Saturday. Well, Saturday came and went, and no hot water. Last night Carlos came in to apologize. The propane company ended up taking the whole Easter weekend off, but he assured us that delivery would occur Monday morning. As we walked into town we spied the propane truck in front of the marina, preparing to deliver. Hurray! After our walk, Sandy grabbed her shower stuff and confidently strolled up the ramp. I worked on getting the boat ready to go. A while later she returned, all rinsed and refreshed, with another cold water shower. I'm sure they got delivery of propane, but somehow that didn't translate into hot water. Who knows.
Around 1:30 we were ready to go. However, a wind had come up by
then, and the sea outside the breakwater was solid whitecaps.
We decided to give it a try, and eased out into open water. The
seas were 4 to 5 feet, very closely spaced and steep faced. The
direction we needed to head would have put us parallel to the
troughs. We easily decided that moving was a poor idea. We
retreated to our slip and enjoyed a nice afternoon in the marina.
Sandy fixed up a delicious chicken fajita dinner, and we went
for an after dinner stroll along the waterfront promenade. It
was nearly dark by the time we got back to the marina. Looking
out, beyond the breakwater we could see dozens of points of
light, lined up about halfway to the horizon. We were seeing
the white running lights of pangas, those small, open Mexican
fishing boats, perhaps out jigging for Humboldt squid.
The weather tomorrow is supposed to be calm, and we plan to start early, and hopefully do some fishing around San Marcos Island.
We arrived in Santa Rosalia 5 days ago, with the rising sun, and
so today we departed. We rose at 6 am to the sound of big gas
inboards rumbling as they warmed up. Our friends of the past
several days were heading out to fish. We took our time and ate
our oatmeal before leaving the dock. After our abortive foray
out of the marina yesterday, I was concerned with the steady
breeze blowing off the land and through the marina. However,
Irving on one of the sportfishing boats radioed in that it was
quite calm a short ways out. We left the slip at 7 am, and had
a ringside seat to a great sunrise (at my age every sunrise I
see is great). I trolled a lure as we motored the 7 miles
across to San Marcos Island. On the way there, we were
entertained by a small group of sea lions who were launching
themselves completely free of the water in a series of
spectacular leaps.
A small fleet of open fishing boats were trying their luck over the reef which extends out past the north end of the island. Our friends on Tuna Time were there as well. We heard them radio Irving on the Betty B. Both boats were landing a few cabrilla. I jigged the lure Irving gave me, and managed to bring up a couple fish, only about a pound each. Not exactly the 25 lb yellowfin I was hoping for, but at least we've got fishscales on the boat and the prospect of a fish fry for dinner some evening soon.
A little before noon I brought my line in, and we motored around the west shore of the island, to a spot called Sweetpea Cove. We anchored near a Mexican fishing camp and had lunch. While I was on the foredeck preparing to lower the anchor, a pelican paddled his way toward our boat. We realized that he had his sights on the fish which I had suspended in the water from a rope tied to the railing. We noticed that the poor bird had a broken wing. However, I wasn't about to surrender my fish to him, but we did quite a dance with him before getting properly hooked.
After lunch a breeze came up, and I decided to set the sails for
the first time on the trip and move down to the south end of the
island. While we were getting underway we saw our first sea
bird/dolphin feeding frenzy. About a quarter mile out the
surface of the sea was being thrashed from above and below. A
pod of several dozen dolphin were tearing into a large mass of
baitfish. Overhead, squadrons of boobies would circle and
plunge in their stiletto dives, piercing the water like spears.
I'd seen such displays on TV nature programs, but had never
witnessed the scene in person. It was a remarkable sight.
As we neared the south end of the island we could see the huge gypsum mine which dominates the landscape there. A community of about 650 people live next to the mine and, from what we could see, must live a very dusty, dirty existence. Any amount of wind raises clouds of dust throughout the area.
We opted to keep on going, since the wind was now out of the
southeast and right on our nose. We entered Craig Channel, and
figured on anchoring on whichever side of Punta Chivato seemed
to offer the most shelter. On the way down channel, Sandy
glassed the arid shoreline, and remarked at the dense forest of
saguaro cactus which was growing a short distance beyond the
beach. We decided to go ashore and check it out. We got to
within 100 yards of shore, found a sandy patch of bottom, and
anchored in about 8 feet of water. The beach was heavily
littered with shells, many of which were different from any we'd
seen elsewhere. We walked a short way inland to view the cactus
varieties which grew there, and then returned to the beach and
gathered shells as we walked back to the dinghy.
By this time it was after 5 pm, and was time to find shelter for the night. Punta Chivato is a good place, with anchoring options for both north and south winds. However, the sea breeze conditions we had this afternoon brought us both wind and swell out of the east. I decided that the anchorage south of the point would be best, and we made for it. We got here at 7 pm, coming in with navigation lights switched on. It was virtually dark by the time I set the anchor. The wind has died, and we're in about 8 feet, right in front of a $300 - $800US / night luxury hotel. We have residual swells refracting around our protecting point, so we're occasionally getting rocked a bit sharply. I'm expecting this to settle down as the night proceeds. We had a late dinner of chicken fajita on Mexican rolls, with fruit salad on the side. Gourmet fare, for sure.
After yesterday's long run and late dinner, we took our time
getting started today. I found the cockpit dripping with a dew
that would have put Puget Sound dews to shame. I took advantage
of the moisture and chamoied all the surfaces I could reach. It
was almost like giving the boat a wash, and I was able to get
rid of a lot of salt and dirt. We enjoyed our coffee in the
cockpit, in bright sunshine. It looked like it was going to be
a very hot day. Appearances, however, can be deceiving.
We raised anchor around 8:30 am, and motored out of our
sheltered nook in front of the Punta Chivato luxury hotel. As I
worked out into the main bay I started picking up a sea breeze
off the port side, and I set both sails. We were sailing in
light air, but it was off the beam, and we averaged about 3
knots across most of the bay, a distance of 8 nm. It was a very
pleasant sail. About half way across, we sailed into a fairly
dense fog bank, which seemed very out of place here. I had to
put my wind shirt on, and I folded the bimini back, to be
comfortable. Visibility got down to a hundred yards or so at
times. As we approached the mouth of Bahia Conception proper,
the wind off our port beam began clocking to stern. I adjusted
sails, and began speeding up, now averaging over 4 knots.
Continuing south, down Bahia Conception, we soon were sailing
directly downwind. I swayed out the main on the starbard side
and hooked up my new preventer line. It worked great, and I was
able to do it all from the cockpit. I went on deck and rigged
the whisker pole to the genoa on the port side, and off we went,
wing on wing. We averaged 5.5 to 6 knots for several miles.
The fog lifted and revealed the stark mountains that flank the
east side of the bay. As we sailed further into the bay, with
the two shorelines constricting somewhat, the wind began to
strengthen, and I became uneasy about our wing on wing setup.
That feeling was reinforced as a shift in wind tried to gybe the
main. Fortunately, my preventer did its job, and the main was
unable to slam all the way across. I got the main refilled on
the starboard side, but decided to shift to just one sail. I
gave Sandy the helm and went forward to remove the whisker pole
and roll up the jib, prior to dropping the main. As I cut the
jib sheet the main came across again. The preventer did its job
once more, however the boat was being overpowered, and lay ahull
to the wind. We had no choice but to fire up the engine in
order to regain control. We motored into the wind, and I was
able to furl the jib, drop the main, and then come about and
resume sailing on just the jib. It was a bit messy, but we
managed. Wing on wing makes for great sailing, especially with
whisker pole and preventer helping out, but in a strengthening
wind, it can make for problems. With just the jib out, we were
still doing better than 5 knots. When I was able to alter
course toward Santispac I reset the main, and we clipped along
on a nice reach, again doing better than 6 knots, but under a
lot more control than our wing on wing sleigh ride. All in all,
it was a great sail, covering over 20 nm.
We motored the last half mile into Santispac, which is a nice
sheltered cove with a pretty beach. Numerous RV's are camped on
the beach, and the place is known for Anna's, where the guide
book says we could buy groceries, ice, and take showers. All of
the above were on our needs list. I put the kicker motor on the
porta-bote for the run into the beach. I test fired her up, and
she ran fine. We climbed aboard and I started the motor. We
got about 100 feet and the little outboard quit. No sputtering,
it just quit. I gave a couple futile pulls, and grabbed the
oars. Once ashore, we walked up to Anna's and found that they
close on Wednesdays. Guess what, today is Wednesday. Just my
luck. Back to the boat I rowed. After tying up to Chinook I
checked out the kicker. What do you know, she was out of gas.
I thought I remembered the tank being over half full, but oh
well. I started filling the tank, and spotted gas dripping off
the bottom of the carburator. Float problems. I've been there
before. I removed the cover and managed to fix the problem, but
not before dropping one of the two little carburator screws
overboard. Fortunately, I located a replacement in my stainless
nuts and bolts box. I test fired the motor. She runs fine now,
and no more leaks.
Time for dinner. I was setting up the barbque when she uttered those terrifying words. "Mike, the stove didn't light". It's been working just great. I immediately suspected the exhaust tube. Often, after a good sail, it loads up with water, and that proved to be the problem this time. Once I drained the water out, she fired right up. We seem destined to be having late dinners, but in this case, dinner was well worth waiting for. Sandy fried up sliced onions and little Mexican squash in butter flavored oil, with key lime and a great Mexican pepper spice mix for flavor and just a little snap. I barbqued sirloin tip steak, sliced very thin. It had been marinated and tenderized, and it was superb. We finished the evening in the cockpit, under a very black sky glittering with stars, sipping our after dinner tea. For entertainment, I got out my underwater light and gave it a try. Little shrimp like critters swarmed around the light, and needle fish darted around. You never know what will show up. The water is extremely phosphorescent here, and it's finally beginning to warm up. The water temperature here reached a high of 66 degrees F today. I think we'll be able to do some snorkeling soon.
Another heavy dew in the cockpit this morning. After breakfast
we rowed to the small nearby beach in search of the warm springs
reputed to be here. We couldn't see any sign of them, but did
enjoy beachcombing and picking up shells. We returned to the
boat and putted down to Playa El Burro, anchored, and rowed
ashore. We visited the little grocery and I bought a bottle of
water. We then crossed the highway and began climbing the rocky
trail up the hillside. The cruise guide mentioned Indian
petroglyphs along this trail, however we somehow missed them. I
did make it to the top of the ridge, and enjoyed a spectacular
view of the surrounding area. It was a very hot, exposed hike,
and we were glad to get back down. We had a nice lunch at
Bertha's Restaurant. The roof of this place was made of tightly
thatched palm leaves, laid upon a framework of long, thin poles.
I also bought ice, bread and bananas there. We've been
pleasantly surprised by the availability of ice so far. It's
made from purified water, and a cooler full of iced down beer
and pop, plus the afternoon margerita or rum coke on the rocks
is a real luxury in this warm, arid place.
After lunch we slowly motored down to Playa Coyote, a lovely
place being enjoyed by numerous tent campers. We went out to
the backside of Isla Coyote, which has a nice protected cove and
beach. When we arrived, a large Mexican group was spread out on
the beach, having a great time. We anchored in the cove and
went ashore for our first swim of the trip. The water here is
around 70 degrees, and felt very refreshing. While we were
getting into the water, a panga pulled in, and the beach group
all piled in to go home. We now have the place all to
ourselves. I hoisted the solar shower, and we both enjoyed a
nice hot water shower. For dinner I barbqued up the fish I
caught the other day. Verdict: I can catch that type of fish
any time. Excellent table fare. Tomorrow we plan on laying
over in this area, and we'll break out the snorkel gear for a
look see below the surface.
As the day of departure from Leavenworth approached, we couldn't
wait to be on the road. As we pounded pavement southbound, we
couldn't wait to drop in on relatives along the way. As we
pulled out of my sister's home in Chandler Az we couldn't wait
to cross the border into Mexico. In San Carlos, we couldn't
wait to get the boat into the water. As we sat at anchor in
Bahia San Pedro, we eagerly anticipated our overnight crossing
of the Sea of Cortez. In the marina at Santa Rosalia, we looked
forward to beginning our southbound cruise. Now we're bobbing
at anchor at Isla Coyote, in Bahia Conception, one of the
loveliest spots on the Sea of Cortez. However, we look across
the bay and see the lights of the many palapas and RV's encamped
along the shore, and the night silence is violated by the sounds
of semi's laboring up and down Highway 1. The highway is
twisty, and climbs in and out of the numerous bays and coves
along this stretch of coast. Mexican truck drivers apparently
try to outdo each other for loudest jake brakes, and the sound
carries clearly across the bay to our otherwise peaceful
anchorage. This evening, we can't wait to be out of earshot of
Highway l.
Last night's peace and quiet was interrupted, some time after I'd dropped off into a sound sleep, by the sensation of serious bobbing, and the sound of surf regularly splashing on shore. The entire day had been calm, and we had retired under same conditions. However, I awoke to a different situation. I went on deck and played the flashlight on shore. A sea breeze had kicked up, sending 1 foot swells into our anchorage. The wind was light, putting little pressure onto the boat, but the bobbing was less than comfortable. I debated raising anchor and moving to the leeward side of the island, but ended up opting for a wait and see approach. I laid in bed for an hour or so before the wind and swell died down. In the morning I got up to a light sea breeze, and found our position rather close to the beach. I decided to raise anchor and move around to the lee side of the island before proceeding with breakfast.
We anchored on the lee side, just off a nice beach. This is the area I planned on snorkeling today. I dropped anchor in about 18 feet, and we fixed breakfast. Instead of the usual oatmeal, we fixed up some nice pancakes on the propane stove in the cockpit. Because of the bugs, we left the bug netting up in the companionway, and ate below.
A word about the bugs. These particular critters are small black gnats. They don't bite or sting, they just crawl on you, and can be quite aggravating. Locally, they're called bobos. I learned today that the bobos are likely to be encountered in the vicinity of small islands where sea birds hang out in large numbers. That description fits Isla Coyote to a T. I tried out some insect repellent, and it worked for a while, but to be effective, I had to repeatedly dose myself. I've decided I don't like bobos at all.
I went out in the dinghy with fishing rod in hand, and tried jigging. I managed to land one fair size rock fish, but couldn't get a second, so I let the one go. It was just too small for a dinner by itself.
Water temperature first thing in the morning was 67 degrees, but
by 1 pm had risen to 73. I put my spring wetsuit on and got
into the water. I gave the boat hull a scrubbing with the boat
brush, and then Sandy joined me in the water. We went for our
first snorkel in the Sea of Cortez. This little area has lots
of empty shells on the bottom, and a fair number of small
striped fish, rather like the sergeant majors of Hawaii. Fish
variety here isn't anything like Hawaii. On a second swim,
Sandy followed my in the dinghy while I snorkeled out around a
pair of large rocky islets. I saw a half dozen different
varieties of fish, including one I could have tried spearing,
but didn't. I floated over one sting ray, who scurried away.
Judging from the number of stingray carcasses laying on the
beach, he probably had good reason to make his escape.
After returning to the boat, I dove down into the king berth stowage area and hauled out the dodger. I've held out on installing it, because I like the extra forward visibility its absence affords, however, the bobos are getting the best of us both. The dodger needs to be installed before I can set up the cockpit bug netting. I deployed the netting, and that made for a much more enjoyable evening. Sandy put together a pizza, which we baked up in our backpack oven. It came out great, and made for a most enjoyable Friday night dinner. As we prepare to retire for the evening, it's quite and calm outside. The truckers seem to be avoiding the road at night. Even the gulls have settled in. Tomorrow we'll move down to Bahia Santa Barbara, which is more removed from the highway, and at last report, hadn't been impacted by RV's or palapas. Hopefully we'll find that to be true.
I arose to a world of gray. Dense fog blanketed us, and water
droplets covered the boat. By 9 am, however, it had burned off,
revealing another beautiful sunny, calm day. Six days after
last topping our water supply off, we reached the bottom of our
9 gallon rigid tank. I opened the valve to the Plastimo and
refilled the 9 gallon tank. I then closed the valve, so I could
more easily keep track of our remaining water supply. In
addition to the 9 gallons now in the rigid tank, we should have
about 11 gallons remaining in the Plastimo. If need be, we
could get by for another 14 days on that quantity. However, we
expect to be in Mulege on March 31, and we expect to resupply
with water and ice there.
We made the short move down to Playa Santa Barbara this morning. This place is described in the cruising guides as quiet, and lacking in shoreside development, at least for the time being. The books have been accurate in their descriptions. It is a nice sized bay, perhaps 3/4 mile in length, and a half mile wide, with good protection from all directions except due north, and the fetch from that direction isn't great. One of the unique aspects of Playa Santa Barbara is the dense grove of date palms growing right on the shore, at the midpoint of the beach. After all the cactus we've been seeing, the palm trees give this place an exotic look.
We went for a nice long beach walk shortly after arriving. The birdlife here is quite varied. In addition to the usual seabirds we've seen all along, we saw several white winged doves, a small flycatcher, a hummingbird, a redhead duck, several cardinals, and a few others we didn't get good looks at.
We are glad we had the chance to see this place in its present undeveloped state. While here, we watched a survey crew at work on the headlands on either side of the bay. There are lots of ribbons, monuments, and other indicators that change is coming to this place. For now, however, we weren't bothered by jetskis or large power boats. Our only visitors were a panga with 4 locals aboard, and a small power boat. Two guys on the panga dove in wetsuits and snorkel gear for over an hour, gathering something from the sea floor. They spent quite a while processing the catch before leaving. The power boat had a small group aboard, and they went for a swim on the far side of the bay.
We spent a lazy afternoon aboard, tending small chores and reading. In the midafternoon I swam a few laps around the boat to cool down. Afternoon water temps here hit 72 degrees. The warm solar shower rinse afterward felt great. We were entertained by numerous shoals of small bait fish which periodicly would thrash the surface, making a loud splashing sound.
Our plan for tomorrow is to run back up the bay and cross over to the east side, to a spot called Bahia Santo Domingo. If it looks interesting we'll stay the night there. Otherwise, we'll continue back up to Mulege.
I check the house battery condition regularly. The past several days have given the new solar panel and refrigerator a good test. The battery level, two days ago was 12.4 volts first thing in the morning. Yesterday, with virtually no motoring, and a fair amount of time spent on the computer doing pictures, we started out at 12.38 volts. Today, I took the trouble to tilt the panel toward the sun, and I'm hoping we'll start tomorrow at higher than 12.38. If so, then I know that, under present conditions, we can maintain our electrical power even without running the outboard.
I rose at 6 am and enjoyed my coffee while watching the sun
rise. A light breeze was drifting into our bay. We had bounced
a little last night with the slight swell that was rolling in.
As long as the boat was pointed into the swell it was not
noticeable. However, every time we'd swing broadside, we'd get
rocked. I should have set a stern anchor, and all would have
been well. Next time I'll go to the extra effort.
I was fairly pleased to note the battery condition. The frig is humming along at 40 degrees in the food box, and we've hardly run the outboard over the past 4 days. The solar panel has enabled us to hold our own. I think tilting it toward the sun, and shifting the boom to the side, to minimize shadow on the panel, helped a little yesterday. We should be in better shape by tomorrow morning, since we motored 12 miles today, at the modest speed of 4.5 knots.
We reached this lovely bay at noon today. It's a lonely, isolated place, just inside the tip of the 40 mile long penninsula that borders the eastern edge of Bahia Conception. The rugged mountains of the penninsula gradually kneel down, so that here, at Bahia Santo Domingo, they are nothing more than low hills, offering little protection from a strong northerly or easterly wind. Fortunately for us, the wind today has amounted to nothing more than a steady 5 to 10 knot sea breeze. Our anchorage has light wind chop but no swell. It's past sunset now, and the breeze appears to be dying down.
We enjoyed two delightful beach walks here today. The first was
the longest. We strolled north up the beach, toward the tip of
the penninsula. This is probably the most outstanding shelling
beach we've ever explored. The shells here are notable both for
their large number and interesting variety. It was a struggle
to limit the number we hauled back to the dinghy. We went
ashore again after dinner for a sunset walk to the south. The
temperature was cool but comfortable, and we added a few more
special shells to our collection. The setting sunlight
stunningly highlighted the ribs on the tall cardon cactus, which
bear a slight resemblance to the saguaro cactus of Arizona. As
Sandy was framing her photograph, a great blue heron landed atop
the cactus she was preparing to shoot. Unfortunately, the big
bird flew off before she could snap his picture. We've seen
gulls, frigate birds, and even ospreys perch on top of these
cactus. The preferred perches are stained white from bird
droppings. In a land almost devoid of leafy trees, these birds
have to take advantage of what nature provides.
Beautiful, calm dawn, the glassy waters of the entrance to Bahia
Conception only disturbed by the breathing of a small group of
dolphins, several hundred yards out from our anchored boat. We
again listened to the Amigo net on my SSB receiver while eating
breakfast. Afterward, I rowed ashore to burn our trash below
the high tide line. I picked up a few more shells, and then
rowed out toward the reef for a few casts. I managed to hook
and lose one fair sized fish.
We raised anchor around 9 am and set course toward Mulege. A light 5 knot breeze was blowing in off the Sea, off our starbard beam. I raised both sails, and we enjoyed a pleasant 3 knot sail, reaching on the light air. Once again I trailed my fishing lure, in hopes of attracting a yellowtail. No luck with fish, but the sail was most pleasant.
Mulege is situated on the only freshwater river flowing into the
Sea of Cortez from Baja. The estuary can be entered by shoal
draft boats with care. Hazards include a reef on the north side
of the channel and an unmarked pinnacle rock in mid channel,
which only shows at low tide. The bar at the entrance is
covered by 3 feet at zero tide, just the kind of place Macs
love. We eased our way in, following a local panga. Depth
sounder read a minimum of 4.5 feet. The moorage is a seawall in
the lee of a cone shaped island called Sombrierita. Accepted
procedure is to set a stern anchor out, and then secure the bow
to the sea wall with a mooring line. Being on the cautious
side, I dropped my stern anchor well out from the seawall, and
then had Sandy ease the boat in, toward the seawall. I freed up
a bow line, and then got into the dinghy, rowed up to the bow,
grabbed the mooring line, and tied off to the seawall, while
Sandy gave me necessary slack from the stern anchor rode. It
all worked very well, except for the fact that, when all was
done, I saw that my stern anchor line extended well out into the
navigable channel. I worried that a panga would come ripping in
and foul its prop on my anchor line. I grabbed my spare anchor,
which I use as a dinghy anchor, and set it as a temporary stern
anchor, and then retrieved the main stern anchor. I reset it at
a more proper distance, and then hauled in the dinghy anchor.
After all this thrash, the boat looked properly secured. I
installed the sail covers, put up the sunshade, stowed GPS and
fishing rods below, adjusted the tilt of the solar panel, and we
headed for town.
Mulege is a long mile walk up a dusty road from the moorage. We
enjoyed the walk, stopping along the way to talk with the
proprietor of an RV park about taking showers in a day or so.
Once we got to town we did some shopping, got some ice cream,
and walked out to see the local mission, built over 200 years
ago. It's built on a hill overlooking the river and town. The
setting is impressive, and affords a splendid view of the dense
date palm groves which flank either side of the river. The lush
vegetation is in stark contrast with the arid, cactus covered
sidehills. After our walk, we enjoyed a tasty Mexican dinner at
Los Casitas Restaurant, which features a beautiful, landscaped
dining patio. It was the perfect setting. Following dinner we
caught a taxi back to the boat. Tomorrow, we've arranged to go
with Salvador on a tour of some local Baja cave art paintings,
left behind by indigenous people thousands of years ago. It
should be interesting to see a bit of the inland side of this
country.
April 1, 2008 -- Layover day, Mulege
Today was the day of our big inland exploration to see some Baja
cave paintings. We were scheduled to meet Salvador in front of
the Las Casitas Hotel and Restaurant at 8:30 am. We rose early,
however got away from the boat a little later than ideal. We
ended up making a forced march into town, reaching the
restaurant 5 minutes past 8:30. Salvador was dutifully standing
out front, with us decked out with backpacks, walking stick,
cameras and binoculars around our necks, he spotted us right
away. Nothing like being outfitted like prototypical tourists.
He greeted us warmly, and patiently waited while we ordered up
our box lunches. For 50 pesos per lunch, we each got 3
burritos, hard boiled egg and orange. Salvador lead us over to
his van and drove us up to the municipal building, where we
signed the register and paid 35 pesos to cover use of our
digital camera. We needed to show our drivers licenses when we
registered. After tending the formalities, Salvador stopped by
a little store and got some ice and soft drinks. We swung by
his garage facility, and swapped vans for one more suitable for
the drive out to the cave paintings.
The drive is about 30 km in length, and the dirt road out across
the desert is primitive. Alternately washboard and rough rock
cobble, the drive gave us all a good shaking, and I realized
that Salvador's vehicle maintenance costs must be extremely
high. I commented that the road hadn't seen a road grader in a
long time. Salvador laughed and said the road gets graded just
prior to each election. We had a good laugh. I got another
chuckle over the weathered 40 km/hour speed limit sign, hanging
on an old wooden post out in the middle of nowhere. Any vehicle
violating that limit would quickly shake apart. We stopped at a
fruit stand along the way, and Salvador pulled out his extremely
sharp sheath knife, and proceeded to slice up grapefruit,
oranges and tangerines for us to sample. The fruit was
excellent, especially the grapefruit and tangerines, and is all
organically grown. Salvador says much of it is shipped to the
US for sale there. We bought a large mixed bag of fruit. Total
cost: 20 pesos.
We also stopped at a loop turnout. Salvador is very knowledgeable about the local plant life, and he led us over to several varities of cactus, shrubs, and small trees. He told us the Spanish and English name for each, and provided much information about how each was used for food or herbal remedies. He brought us over to an extremely large speciman of cardon cactus. They can live to be over 500 years, and are the tallest cactus in the world. After they die, the bundle of woody poles inside can be used for building materials. We've seen them used as roofing lath, supporting palm frond thatch roofs.
We drove on, passing through two gates which marked the
beginning of private ranch property. Salvador has permission to
lead tours in this area, but has to pay a substantial fee to the
ranch owner. The road ends at the ranch house, where we again
signed the register book. The ranch house is in the foothills,
and the trail takes off just behind the house. Salvador set a
good pace on a well defined trail which wandered over rocky
terrain and into a strikingly beautiful arroyo. The sides of
the canyon were several hundred feet high, and in many places
the canyon width was considerably less than the wall heights.
The rock was mostly a brick red sandstone, alternating with
layers of lighter colored volcanic rock and areas of
conglomerate. A series of dams have been constructed to store
water. The reservoirs are currently dry, because of drought
conditions. In years past, the trek to see the cave paintings
of La Trinidad involved a couple of swims up the reservoir
pools. We were able to walk on dry ground the whole way,
however, once well back in the arroyo we began encountering
residual pools of water, which in some places was actively
flowing from one pool to another. Tadpoles and small fish could
be seen in these pools. They were very lovely, and in stark
contrast with their arid surroundings.
Farther up the canyon we climbed. We rounded a bend and
scrambled up to a large alcove which reached well back into the
cliff face. The flat surfaces of this alcove were the palette
for ancient Indian artists of exceptional skill. In colors of
red, black and white, the painters had depicted animals common
to the region then and now. Deer, rabbits, whales, fish,
octopus, turtles, bighorn sheep, and numerous other animals were
very recognizably painted in line drawing form. Outlines of
hand prints, images of shamans, and abstract symbols thought to
be calendars of some sort were also painted on the cliffs.
Salvador had worked years ago with American archeologists who
explored and catelogued these sites, and he was a wealth of
knowledge about these paintings. He then led us further up the
canyon to another cave painting sight, equally delightful to
see. We ate our lunch in the shade of the second painted cave
alcove, and then retraced our steps back to the ranch house. On
the drive back to town, Salvador spotted and pointed out to us a
roadrunner and some cardinals. Bouncing along that road, it was
pretty amazing he was able to notice them. We were very pleased
that we had been able to make contact with Salvador and
accompany him on this trek. He's a fine guide, and gave us an
outstanding experience.
After saying our goodbyes, we wandered over to the town square,
drank a couple of cokes, and then walked up to the old prison.
It's been closed for over 30 years, and has now been converted
to a museum. While serving as a prison, it was notable for the
practise of allowing the less dangerous inmates out of their
cells each day. The inmates would walk to town to work, and at
the end of the day, a prison guard would blow a conch shell
horn, and the inmates would walk back to the prison, along with
their families, to be locked up for the night. The more
dangerous inmates were kept secured within an inner wall and set
of cells in the prison. It all looked very austere and no place
to be kept, regardless of circumstances. The museum displays
were very interesting, depicting local history, natural history,
and the story of the prison. While we were there, Sandy asked
the caretaker where the banos (restroom) was. The lady showed
here the door to the unisex banos. Inside was a nice flush
toilet. Outside the door was a big water barrel and bucket. To
operate the toilet, you must first fill the toilet tank with
water from the outside barrel. Hey, it works.
From there, we went back to town for a little shopping, and then returned to the boat. We walked back this time, and were quite tired by the time we got back. A nice rum and coke in the cockpit, preceded by a ibeprophen tablet, more than took care of the soreness. We ate dinner on the boat, and I went out fishing for a short while. My vantage point in the dinghy provided a front row seat to a vivid sunset. I caught one fish, but couldn't compete with a pair of local boys who fished next to our boat, using handlines. They are true expert fishermen. We gave them each a rice krispy treat, which they clearly enjoyed.
Light land breeze and dry cockpit when I got up this morning.
Partly cloudy skies and mild temperature. Several pangas ran
out at high speed, kicking us around some with their wake. I
tuned the Amigo net in on the SSB receiver while sipping my
morning coffee. The forecast confirmed earlier projections of a
change in weather. A 4 millibar gradient will move in late
tonight, setting up 20 to 25 kt winds out of the NNW by early
morning tomorrow. Hearing this, we decided to modify our plans
for hanging out in Mulege today, and departing tomorrow.
Instead, we opted to hurry through chores in town in the
morning, and try to get underway by 1 pm. That would give us
settled conditions for an afternoon 31 mile run down to Caleta
San Sebastian, the first sheltered anchorage to our south. We
could then decide in the morning whether to hang out at San
Sebastian, or continue around Punta Pulpito, and possibly as far
as San Juanico, another 20 miles beyond San Sebastian.
This has thus far turned out to be excellent strategy. The
afternoon run was smooth and pleasant. No sailing wind, but a
nice motor run. I averaged 6 knots at about 2900 rpm, and we
got in by 6:15 pm. A pair of cruising sailboats passed us
northbound, as did one large power cruiser. Every so often I
could see a panga or two close in to shore. We encountered two
groups of dolphins, the second being a fairly large group,
traveling north at a good clip. As we neared San Sebastian, we
passed by some large schools of fish which were being
aggressively attacked by larger fish and numerous pelicans. If
it hadn't been so late, I'd have loved to pause and try my luck
fishing.
San Sebastian is a very cozy cove, which has apparently been
totally appropriated by gringos. A half dozen very attractive,
and costly adobe style beach homes line the cove. Dense palm
groves enhance the scene. However, the atmosphere was disturbed
by a rather loud, typically American patio party, complete with
excessively loud conversation and overly loud carrying on.
After the quiet, relaxed feel to Mulege, a town of 5000, this
small group of Americans seemed boorishly out of place here. Of
course, we are actually the visitors in their little community,
the only boat anchored in their cove. I wonder if they feel
we're intruders here.
We're getting bounced around a bit from swells, refracting into the cove. I'm debating whether to set out a stern anchor. Tomorrow will bring other decisions, such as whether to test ourselves in the predicted winds. Those decisions will await the dawn.
I rose at 6am to clear skies and a moderate land breeze blowing
out of the cove at San Sebastian. I decided that this would be
a good morning for an early start, with the chance of getting as
far as Caleta San Juanita before the predicted north
northwesterly wind kicked in. I tried sailing off the anchor,
however ended up firing up the motor to get us swung around.
The reefs guarding both sides of the anchorage didn't allow
enough room for me to swing around under sail quickly enough.
Once we had the wind at our back, we eased out under main and
jib. The land breeze nearly died once we got a half mile out,
however, we were content to drift along at a knot or less while
we enjoyed our coffee and breakfast, and listened to the Amigo
Net weather forecast. Don predicted NNW winds of 20 to 25 knots
by early afternoon. That fit our day's cruise plan perfectly.
We picked up a little more wind, and eased along at 2 knots for
a while, before that died back and I reluctantly fired up the
outboard.
While motoring along at about 5 knots across Bahia San Nicolas I
spotted dolpin activity way out, almost to the horizon. It
looked like a big group, moving fast. I held course, and in a
surprisingly short time, they were only a few hundred yards off
our bow. A sizeable group, perhaps several dozen, veered away
from the main bunch and swam our way, like a bunch of puppy dogs
wanting to play. Not wanting to disturb them I eased back on
the throttle. They came right along side. I finally got the
idea, and revved back up. They immediately shot to our bow and
began running on our bow wave. Sandy went up to the bow pulpit
with the camera, and got some amazing video footage as they
raced along with us. They would swim on their sides and look
right up at her. She could even hear them squeaking at her.
Having never before experienced this behavior, we were
entranced. While we were cruising along with the dolphins, the
motor coughed once and then died. What a time to run a gas tank
dry. We were quickly dead in the water. A couple of dolphins
gazed up at Sandy with a look that said "So, you don't want to
play anymore?", and then swam off. I switched over to the port
side tank and got us running again, and the dolphins again came
over to play. This time I went forward and enjoyed their
antics. After a while, they moved off, and we watched the main
group, which was tearing up the water a half mile away. We saw
repeated leaps, sometimes by 2 or 3 dolphins at a time. Some of
the leaps were at least 10 feet in the air. It was better than
a Sea World show.
We continued onward, rounding Punta Pulpita, a striking
promentory which rather does look like a preacher's pulpit. On
the south side we started picking up a breeze, and I played out
the main and jib. We enjoyed a great wing on wing sail, making
3 knots at first, but gradually increasing to over 4 knots. I
rigged my preventer to the end of the boom, and then tried out
an idea. Since the Macgregor 26 X doesn't have a traveler, I
find it difficult to impossible to establish a good sail shape
when the main is played out for a downwind run. It presses
against the shroud and spreader, and the boom rises up. I
decided to unclip the main sheet from the standard pedestal
attachment and hook it up to the starbard railing, where the
lifeline connects. This allowed me to put downpressure on the
boom at a more favorable angle. Combined with a tightened vang
and the preventer line, I was able to substantially improve the
shape of the main. We enjoyed fine sailing all the way to the
entrance to Caleta San Juanica. After reaching the turning
point, I shortened the jib and brought the main sheet back to
the pedestal. We did a controlled gybe and sailed into the
anchorage on the opposite tack.
There were 5 other sailboats anchored in San Juanica, however,
it's a roomy anchorage. We dropped sails and motored over to a
nice inside position, at least a quarter mile from the nearest
boat. Our arrival timing was perfect. The wind outside
continued to build throughout the afternoon, but we were well
protected in the San Juanico anchorage.
This is truly a lovely place, which easily earns its reputation as a major Sea of Cortez cruiser's destination. A series of beaches, separated by colorful, rocky headlands, form the perimeter of the bay. An island group near our anchorage takes the shape of several steep rock spires. Osprey have built nests on the tops of the pinnacles. The water ranges in color from emerald green to deep blue, depending on depth and bottom composition.
We ate lunch in the cockpit and then went for an explore in the dinghy. We went ashore and examined the cruiser's shrine, which in the Bahamas was called a signing tree. In this case, a moderate sized bush along the shore is decorated with signs and various artisticly arranged bits of flotsam and jetsom, recording boat names and dates of visits. We walked the beach and met a lady from one of the sailboats, Gail, who lives on Saltspring Island in the Canadian San Juans. We enjoyed a nice visit with her and her dog. We later ran the dinghy over to one of the beaches where we found a large concentration of olive shells.
Back at the boat, Sandy put together a pizza, which we baked up on the backpack oven. It turned out great, and capped an outstanding day.
I rose at 6 am, and after coffee and a couple of granola bars, I
climbed into the dinghy to try my luck fishing. I motored over
to the lee of the pinnacle rocks at the edge of the anchorage
and jigged, but got no bites. I then moved out the the entrance
to the bay and tried in deeper waters, with the same
disappointing results. I tried several jigs and lures, but
nothing worked. Finally, I put on a silver flatfish and trolled
my way back toward the boat. As I neared the power boat
anchored several hundred yards to our stern, I reeled my line in
and was surprised to find a long, snakey fish snagged to one of
the treble hooks. It was about a foot long, but I never felt it
bite. I decided to hang onto it, for use as bait. I motored
over to the power boat, and said hello to the captain and his
daughter, whom we'd met yesterday. He'd offered the loan of a
hacksaw so I could cut the spur off a conch shell I'd found at
Bahia Santa Barbara. I thought it would make a good conch horn.
I made the cut, cleaned out the opening, and gave it a blow.
The horn sounded a loud, clear blast. The two aboard the power
boat were surprised at how well it blew. I let them try, but
they couldn't get any sound out of it.
I returned to our boat and Sandy presented me with a freshly baked granola/banana crisp. It was delicious, and made for an excellent late breakfast treat. By this time the forecast NNW winds had picked up strength, and were whipping across the anchorage. We boarded dinghy and went ashore, for a foot exploration. We walked the beach to our south, enjoying the varied rock formations. Pelicans and ospreys were taking advantage of the strong, steady winds by soaring above the sheer cliffs on the edge of the bay. I climbed a tall hill which afforded a great view of the entire bay. We then struck out inland, on a steep, freshly graded dirt road, apparently created to access newly subdivided lots. Change is in the works for this area. We circled back by road, ending up near where we'd beached the dinghy. We returned to the boat and had lunch.
This afternoon I did my version of 'dumpster diving', which involved hauling out all the contents of the king berth, so I could access the 9 large plastic tubs which contain our meal supplies. We'd begun running out of provisions in the smaller working tubs, which we store under the forward settee, and it was time to restock. Sandy had prepared a list, and she checked things off the inventory list as I retrieved various items from the bins. It's kind of like going grocery shopping in a dark, horizontal closet. With that chore completed, I motored over to ANU, to show Gail and Howard our new cruising guide. They really liked the format and presentation.
Before dinner, we went ashore again, to look for Apache Tears.
These smooth, shiny obsidian spheres can be found in a gray,
ashy rock formation just beyond the beach. We chipped away at
the soft, crumbly rock, and managed to dig out several dozen.
They're jet black, and quite pretty.
Dinner tonight was spaghetti, made from a sausage and sauce mix that Sandy had cooked up from scratch at home before the trip, and then dried in the oven. She soaked the dried meat and sauce in water, to rehydrate, and then served it over angel hair noodles, garnished with grated mozzerella cheese. It tasted great, and was quite easy to prepare. The rehydration wasn't quite complete, and next time we have spaghetti on the menu we'll allow more time for the rehydration.
The winds, which had blown strongly all day, finally died down at dusk. After dinner we had tea in the cockpit, under a star filled sky. The only artificial lights visible were the anchor lights of the 5 neighboring sailboats.
April 5 - 6, 2008 -- Loreto
House battery at 6 am: 12.47
Yesterday was one of those days when things just fell into
place, perfectly, from dawn to dark. I rose at the usual time,
and caught the Amigo net weather while enjoying coffee and
breakfast. Saturday and Sunday were forecast to be calm, but
winds were predicted for Monday afternoon. I had thought we'd
spend Saturday night at Punta Mangles, 7 miles south of San
Juanico, however after hearing the weather, I decided to move on
down to Loreto, in case we needed to move on by Monday. Loreto
has no marina facilities, just a small boat basin. Cruisers
visiting Loreto must either anchor out front of the boat basin,
in open roadstead, or go 13 miles further south, to Puerto
Escondido, and then take a taxi back to town. I figured the
settled weather on Saturday and Sunday would allow us time to
anchor out and explore Loreto, before the Monday winds arrived.
We got underway at 8:40, and stopped off at a fishing hole near the entrance to San Juanico to try my luck. I caught one small fish, which I put on ice, but only one. I tried for a half hour, and then we resumed our southerly cruise. As we neared Punta Mangles, Sandy saw a spout off the port bow. A single gray whale was alternately spouting and sounding. We got several good looks as our paths crossed. Further on we saw a small group of dolphins. I trolled a big lure behind my deep sea rod, but again without luck. Punta Mangles is a dramaticly beautiful headland, with contrasting bands of red, brown, and white rock. After rounding Punta Mangles we needed to keep a sharp watch for Mangles Rock, a reef and pinnacle rock area, just barely awash, and over a mile offshore, right along the logical route for cruising south. We visually located it, in its charted location, and gave it a wide berth.
Isla Coronado was our next waypoint on the way to Loreto. We
were intending on heading straight for Loreto, but I began
thinking about how long it had been since we'd been able to
shower. We were both feeling quite salty and grungy. I decided
that a short stop at Isla Coronado might afford a good chance
for solar showers and donning fresh clothes before arriving at
Loreto. With its lack of marina facilities, I knew public
showers wouldn't be available there. As we approached the broad
eastern anchorage, I could see a large number of pangas and
fishing boats on the beach at the north end of the anchorage.
However, the bay is large, and the southwestern end terminates
in a sheltering hook, over a mile from the pangas. The water is
shallow there, with broad expanses of sand bottom, which gave
the water a lovely bright aqua color, reminiscent of waters we'd
seen in the Bahamas. Best of all, no one else was around. A
perfect shower stop. I anchored and went for a salt water swim
while Sandy showered, and then took my turn. The solar shower
was up to 110 degrees, we sat in calm waters with light winds.
It felt great to clean up and put on fresh clothes.
We took our time cruising the final 9 miles to Loreto, motor sailing most of the way. We located the boat basin by watching the pangas as they headed in. As we neared the breakwater, I decided to poke our nose in, to see if there was any chance we could tie up inside. We dropped centerboard and rudders, secured the dinghy on a short painter, and idled in. The boat basin is perhaps an acre in size, with pangas tied up on all sides to the breakwater, bow in and with sterns secured to small floats. There are 2 small floating docks, one on each side, both with 2 short finger docks. A couple of large sport fishing boats were tied up to the far docks, and it looked like it was used by a charter fishing service. The other is located just inside the breakwater entrance, and the slip space along the entrance to the boat basin was unoccupied. The length looked to fit our boat perfectly. We slid on in and tied up. I could see no signs or indications of limitations or prohibitions to our being there. It was a perfect spot, and well sheltered.
After securing the boat, we walked over to the charter fishing
office, and found a guy who spoke English. I asked him if there
was any problem with us tying up there. He didn't think there
was, and asked some other guys hanging out there in Spanish. No
problemo. With that, we turned our backs to the boat basin, and
started our explore of Loreto. We wandered over to the town
center, with a first stop at the Mission Church. It is the
oldest mission in Baja, and has been beautifully restored. The
doors were open and we looked inside. The altar area is
beautifully decorated with colorful and gilded statues and
liturgical art work. Next door is a mission museum, which we
wandered through. It told the story of the mission period in
Baja quite thoroughly, and contained some remarkable artifacts.
Afterwards, we did a little shopping, and then walked back
toward the waterfront, in search of a restaurant. The walkway
down from the church is landscaped with a series of small hedged
trees, arranged in pairs, and trained to grow together over the
middle of the street. These hedged trees form a series of green
arches for several blocks on either side of the church. It's a
very lovely and inviting street.
For dinner we selected La Palapa, a nice, traditional Mexican restaurant near the waterfront. The roof is thatched palm leaves, and the walls are woven mats. The atmosphere was warm and colorful, and the waiters had energy and style. Our waiter had a bright red crewcut, but was clearly a true Mexican. He had a good sense of humor, spoke fair English in a heavy accent, and served us well. We ordered margueritas, and they brought us an excellent salsa tray. Sandy ordered shrimp, and I had scallops. The food was excellent. After dinner Sandy wanted to try their flan. The waiter asked if I would like some Mexican coffee. I hesitated a bit, then said Si. He beamed and gave me the "right on" arm pump. A short while later he returned with the flan, and a tray with coffee cup, an alcohol flame holder and two metal cups. With great flair he heated the tequila in the two cups, then flamed the contents, and proceeded to pour from one to the other the flaming tequila. He created a flaming stream over a foot in length. It was quite a performance, finished off by pouring a little flaming tequila on Sandy's flan, and the rest into my coffee. Perfect way to complete a delightful meal.
We walked back to the waterfront as dusk settled, and then strolled the malecon back toward the boat basin. We walked out to the end, where our boat was slipped. A family group was at the small gazebo on the end, a man, two women, a young boy and two dogs. We walked down to the boat, closely followed by the boy, who displayed an intense curiousity about the boat. He peered over the side, trying to see what was inside. One of the women came down, I think to make sure the boy wasn't being a problem, and she too became extremely curious about the boat. I tried to explain things in spite of the language barrier. She asked about sleeping area and "banos" facilities. I showed her how our little boat handled these things. I told her it was our "agua casa" or water house. She got the idea.
I went on deck to put up the sail covers. While working on
them, I heard a loud splash behind me. I thought it was a
pelican diving on fish, but saw that it was the man, standing at
the end of the finger dock. He was working a throw net. I
watched his next throw and marveled at how he achieved a perfect
circle as the net hit the water. I have such a net, and have
tried many times to get the hang of throwing it, but never
succeeding. It always splashes into the water in a hopeless
wad. I told the man how much I appreciated his skill, and then
pantomimed that I'd tried, but couldn't get it to work. He
immediately motioned me over to his net, and indicated that he
would show me his technique. I was hesitant, but he was
insistent. He first looped the end of the retrieval line around
my wrist, then carefully gathered up the line and the top
portion of the net in a series of folds, held by my right hand.
He hooked a portion of net over my right elbow, and then
gathered folds of net also into my right hand. The remaining
net was gathered up into my left hand. I then twisted myself
counterclockwise and then tossed the whole affair out toward the
water in an exaggerated frisbee toss motion. Expecting my usual
wadded up mess, I was astonished to see a broad circle of net
splash into the water. Both the man and I cheered my success.
I slowly pulled the net in, feigning much strain, as though it
was full of shrimp. It came in empty, but I was delighted
nonetheless. A little while later, the man did finally get one
shrimp, which he proudly gave to me. I decided to offer him a
beer. He nodded, but misunderstood. He went over and tried to
give me one of the few beers he had with him. I shook my head,
and then got beers and cokes from the boat. We all celebrated
shrimp netting from the dock. We exchanged introductions. He
is Leo, his wife is Victoria, and the boy is Roberto. I don't
recall the name of the other woman. Our little bit of time
spent together was a joy, and deeply memorable, a fitting cap to
a perfect day in Baja.
[April 6]
Today was a layover day, however we rose early, because we
wanted to attend the7 am mass at the mission church. While
sipping my coffee in the cockpit, shortly after 6 am, an older
man walked out to the end of our slip with a fishing rod. He
eyed our boat and, in fine English, admired it. We struck up a
conversation which was most interesting. He once had worked for
the Baja Department of Agriculture, and explained how he had
been involved in a program to eradicate cattle screw worm in
Baja. It was apparently a big problem. My friend, who
introduced himself as Bill Gusman, would drive out to all the
ranches in Baja, no matter how remote, and test the cattle for
screw worm. If he found infected animals, he would go out to
the nearest phone, and call somewhere in Texas. A DC3 plane
would take off, headed for the affected area. Bill would mark
the target area with a big circle of gypsum, and when the plane
arrived, he would signal with a mirror. The plane would then
drop small boxes containing up to 1 million sterilized screw
worm flies. These flies would then breed with the wild flies,
and after a couple generations, screw worms would be eradicated
in that specific area. He mentioned with pride the date in 1981
when over 400 people who had worked on this program gathered to
celebrate the total eradication of screw worms in all of Baja.
Shortly before 7 am we walked up to the mission church.
Unfortunately, the mass had already started, but we did attend
the last half, and heard some beautiful hymns sung to the
accompaniment of guitars. After the mass we walked over to a
cafe and had breakfast. I ordered huevas Mexicana and Sandy had
huevas nopalita, which is scrambled eggs with diced cactus
leaves. Both entrees were excellent. After breakfast I found a
table in the shade and caught up with my journal. We managed to
locate an internet cafe at a place which was combination gift
shop and bar. The people were very friendly there, and offer
free WIFI. Of course, we did a little shopping, to show our
appreciation. I was able to catch up on e'mail, and send son
Ken the latest journal entries and photos.
We then located a car rental agency which the folks at the
internet cafe had recommended, and arranged to rent a car
tomorrow, so we can drive up to visit Mission Xavier, the second
oldest mission in Baja, and reputed to be one of the most
beautiful. We also did a little grocery shopping before
returning to the boat. We just hung out in the shade of the
bimini and sunshade during the afternoon. While sitting in the
cockpit we saw the woman and dad that we had met in San Juanico.
They had run in to pick up crew. A little later we were hailed
by Howard and Pat, from Tuna Time, whom we'd last seen in Santa
Rosalia. They came aboard and we caught up on our experiences
since seeing each other last.
We fixed dinner aboard this evening. I fried up the fish fillets and our one shrimp, while Sandy sauteed up onions and squash, spiced with a little jalapena pepper. We really wished we'd had a few more shrimp, and a little less jalapena. The dinner was most enjoyable nonetheless. Afterwards, we went for a walk up and down the malecon. We weren't alone in enjoying this simple pleasure. Many people were out walking in the comfortable evening air. The street itself was jammed with cars, cruising up and down, with Mexican music piped loudly from CD players. It was like American Graffiti, ala south of the border. We ended things off with dessert at a fine waterfront restaurant.
April 7, 2008 -- Layover day in Loreto
House battery -- 12.40
Bill Gusman and a couple of his fishing comrades were out on the
dock when I got up around 6 am. Fishing was better this
morning. The sardines were in, and the fisherman had several
nice 16 inch long flounder flopping on the dock. We thought we
had gotten up in plenty of time to get our car at 8:30 am, but
we learned that a couple days ago, Baja California Sur changed
to daylight savings time, and we'd lost an hour. I did manage to
find the National Park office open, and I bought 2 annual park
passes. I also visited the Port Captain's office, and checked in.
We then walked up to the car rental office, and went through the process of renting our car. The insurance ended up costing as much as the rental fee for a day, but I didn't want to take unnecessary chances, and I got the best insurance they offered. The car was a compact Chevy, with 4 tires plus spare, all with air, manual shift and no power steering. The air conditioning worked, but there was no radio. I didn't know they made cars without a radio any more. I put $10 worth of gas in the car, and we headed for the hills.
We managed to make all the right turns, and soon found ourselves on the road to San Xavier Mission. The first 8 km or so was newly paved, with guard railing in the process of being installed. Beyond that, the road was a rough, bumpy desert dirt road. Provided I didn't exceed 30 km/hr, our little car handled it fine. We drove up a narrow arroyo, which had an intermittent stream running through it. In places, the water stood in pools, and flowed over smooth rock and in narrow channels. Numerous small groves of fan palms lined the arroyo, testifying to the availability of water. We passed a couple of shrines along the roadside. A sign marked the location of a small cluster of Indian rock paintings. We stopped to examine them. They weren't as spectacular as the ones we viewed at La Trinidad, but were interesting nonetheless. As we continued up the road, we climbed sharply upward. The road was carved into a steep mountainside, and weaved in and out of narrow draws. As we neared the summit, we could look back and see the distant Sea of Cortez, and the town of Loreto, far below. On the other side we drove through an arid valley, which gradually began descending into a canyon. Another stream flowed in this canyon bottom.
Just after noon, we arrived at San Xavier. The mission church
could be seen from a distance, its bell tower projecting above
the palms and trees which marked this as a place of peace, rest
and shade. A small community of about 150 people surround the
mission, which is still used as an active place of worship. This
mission is the second oldest in all the Californias. The
interior is beautifully decorated with statues, paintings, and
carved woodwork. These remarkable works of art arrived at this
remote desert location after a journey by sailing ship around
the Horn, and then by pack animal up to the mission.
Our drive back down, out of the mountains was uneventful, except
for the sign which detoured us away from the newly paved section
of road. We were routed onto a rocky graded road which ran down
a dry wash, right through the middle of an active gravel
operation, and finally out to the main highway. After hitting
pavement, we drove south, out to Puerto Escondido, to give the
facilities there a quick look.
We returned to town, bought groceries, and drove them out to the
boat. We then returned the car to the rental agency, and walked
back through town. We stopped in at a little restaurant called
Mita Gourmet, which had been recommended to us by people we'd
met the day before. It features an outside dining area, and
adjoins a lovely plaza quite near the Loreto Mission church. We
arrived ahead of the main dinner crowd, which was fortunate, as
this place is quite popular. The chef personally greets each
group of diners, and answers any questions you may have about
the menu. He has a captivating personality, and readily conveys
his love of preparing gourmet meals. While we were sipping our
pina coladas a musician began setting up. He played an amplified
acoustic guitar, and beautifully played both classical and
popular tunes. The food was outstanding. Sandy asked if she
could take a picture of the chef at work. The waitress said no,
but that she'd go back with the camera and take one for us. She
took a great picture of our chef at work.
The good fortune and happy times we associated with our visit to
Loreto lingered for awhile after our departure this morning, but
as we left Loreto in our wake, problems began to present
themselves. The day started pleasantly enough, to the sounds of
panga fishermen talking enthusiasticly among themselves, some
powering out of the boat basin toward their favorite fishing
spots, others circling around, casting throw nets for bait
fish. The old man who comes out to the dock on his bicycle every
morning and evening to fish with his hand line was at the end of
our dock when I emerged from the cabin. If I were a portrait
artist I would paint him. His face tells a thousand stories, and
he says "Buenas dias amigo" with genuine warmth and feeling. I
prepared to cast off, handling the lines while Sandy started up
the motor. I felt a nudge on my shoulder, and the old man looked
at me, then glanced over at Sandy behind the wheel and said
"Capitan?" I nodded affirmatively, and when the lines were free,
I told Sandy to take the boat away from the dock. She powered
up, and we idled our way out of the boat basin. The old man
smiled and waved, impressed that Sandy was our boat captain, and
Sandy appreciated the moment as well.
We took our time motoring south, toward Puerto Escondido. I trolled a lure, and we sighted a pair of humpback whales, which passed closely enough to allow for pictures. We also saw a sea lion, floating on his back with just flippers sticking out of the water. A cruise ship bound for Loreto passed us northbound, while we were watching the whales. I was glad we were able to see Loreto before the cruise ship arrived there.
Problems started as we neared Puerto Escondido. Sandy was below,
organizing the laundry. She noticed a rotten smell in the king
berth area, and discovered the source to be a hard boiled egg
which I'd forgotten to remove from my day pack. It was a left
over from the sack lunch I brought on the La Trinidad hike, over
a week before. Whew, was it ripe. Next little mishap occurred as
we were getting fenders and dock lines ready for arrival at the
Puerto Escondido fuel dock. I'd clipped the backstay cable that
supports the mainsail boom onto a plastic clip instead of to the
stainless loop on the end of the boom. When Sandy grabbed the
boom for support, while working on deck, the plastic clip
broke. Not a big deal, just irritating.
On to the fuel dock. I'd gone to considerable trouble confirming the availability of gas here at Puerto Escondido. Before leaving home, I e'mailed the cruising club in La Paz with an inquiry. They made some phone calls on my behalf, and e'mailed me back that yes, indeed, the Singlar Marina had both diesel and gas. Based on that information, I had opted against hauling gas to the boat while in Loreto by means of jerry cans, although that wouldn't have been very difficult while we had use of the rental car. I figured that a nice convenient fuel dock, a real rarity down here, was a luxury too good to pass up. We eased up to the fuel dock, beneath the huge Pemex fuel tanks. Two dock hands were standing by to take our lines. One guy queried "Diesel?" I said "No, gasoline". He shook his head, saying "No gasoline today". I was incredulous. Back and forth we went, in his broken English and my almost non existent Spanish. Eventually, I gathered that their gas tank was empty, and that they didn't expect fuel delivery until around 10 am the next day. This was beginning to feel like our hot water problems at the Singlar Marina in Santa Rosalia.
We had little option but to wait for tomorrow, in hopes that the
promised fuel delivery would actually occur. We anchored in the
convenient area known as the Elipse, nice and close to the
Singlar docks. We ran over to the dock in the dinghy, loaded
down with laundry, computer and shower gear. I went into the
office, and received one piece of discouraging information after
another. In order to check in, I would have to hike about a half
mile over to another office, because Singlar didn't control the
area we had anchored in. We needed to deal with API instead. We
wash our clothes, but the driers didn't work. It seems the
propane tanks for the driers were empty. Internet works,
however, it is painfully slow. There was some debate as to the
availability of hot shower water. Sandy took her chances, and
found the one shower stall that, with a long enough wait,
eventually achieved a flow of warm water. When my shower turn
came along, I had to use the women's shower, same one Sandy had
used, because there is no hot water at all on the men's
side. Sandy also discovered that none of the electrical outlets
in the bathroom work. She ended up drying her hair in the marina
office/computer room. I asked the marina official if I could
string up a clothes line to dry our laundry, since the driers
didn't work. She said no. When I persisted, she picked up the
phone and called for a couple of workers to come over. After a
flurry of conversation, she said that they could get one drier
to work. It appears they had just enough propane to dry one, not
two, loads of laundry. I said fine, and we got as much clothing
stuffed into the drier as possible. I took the remainder back to
the boat and strung it out on lifelines and jib sheets. Our
little boat looked really festive, with all those "flags" flying
in the warm breeze. We were able to catch up on e'mail, while
the wash dried. A couple doing updates for Charlies Charts
stopped by, and I filled them in on our experiences here thus
far. The guy nodded and offered the comment that Singlar is
trying, single handedly, to destroy cruising for Mexico. It
seems that the local marina employees have virtually no decision
making authority. Almost all decisions must be made by someone
in Mexico City. Consequently, things break but no authorizations
are given to fix them. Rules make no sense, nor do charges and
fees. It's not surprising that cruisers, who are very well
networked, tend to stay away from Singlar facilities by the
droves. It's only the unfamiliar ones, or those who really need
the services supposedly available, who come here. It's really a
shame, because with some decent management and on site decision
making authority, this place could be very successful. Here I
go, thinking and acting like a gringo.
I certainly hope tomorrow is a better day. We're pretty well
dependent on that fuel delivery. To cover my bases, though, I
plan on checking in with the local cruisers net on VHF, and
asking if anyone is planning on driving into Loreto, with room
for a couple jerry gas cans. One way or another, I need to have
10 more gallons of gas on board before I will feel comfortable
setting out for La Paz.
Well, I have to give Pemex and Singlar credit. They said gas
would be available by 10 am, and they were right. While sipping
our coffee and listening to the Amigo net weather forecast at
7:30 am (8:30 savings time) I saw the tanker truck drive up the
entrance road. He first turned down toward the API offices, and
a half hour later rolled into the Singlar Marina and parked next
to their large, above ground tank. I got into the dinghy and ran
in to find out how soon I could get gas. The Singlar guys said
10 am. They didn't start work till 9 am, and then it took a
while for the tanker to connect up to the storage tank and
transfer fuel. We raised anchor and motored over to the fuel
dock. Sure enough, just after 10 am they were ready to pump me
some gas. While getting set up, the gas attendant pointed
excitedly toward the water, in front of our boat. There was a
lot of thrashing going on. "Roosterfish!" he kept saying
excitedly. I grabbed a spin pole and cast toward the action, but
was too late. We then proceeded with the mundane, but necessary
task of filling fuel tanks.