At last post we were in Santa Rosalia, and here we are a
month later back in La Paz. That’s about 300 miles round trip in a little over
five weeks. Not breakneck pace, but it would be easy to spend multiple months
and seasons covering this playground and still discover new sites. There have
been many beautiful, dramatic and interesting stops including whale watching
and touring the copper mine on a second stay back at Santa Rosalia (more on
that below). We have also had our share of dynamic weather to keep us listening
to the forecasts and opting to scurry to a safe anchorage or stay longer in a
harbor when we might otherwise have moved on.
We had “planned” to take these last 3 weeks to lazily cruise
back to La Paz, visiting and revisiting places we had rushed by on the way
north. Now we know why they say that the biggest mistake a sailor can make is
to make “plans.” Most recently, our track was determined by wind alone when a
mechanical failure (the transmission again!) brought us back to the dock in La
Paz by way of a 72-hour sail, staying off-shore, near the center of the sea to
avoid drifting into land when the wind died (as it often did). We limped into a
slip at Marina Palmira, which feels like our home here in La Paz, with our
forward propulsion provided by our little 8-horse outboard bolted to the swim
step on the transom. Very resourceful.
We feel
relief to be
safely tied to a pier, but a little disappointed that we were not able to make all the stops we had
hoped to on the way back south. We have motivation to attack the problem of the tranny, getting it done
for good. We are hopeful that the
3 weeks ahead is enough time to make it happen, along with the other
preparations on our list to ready for the crossing to Hawaii. We still feel grateful to wake up each morning to sunshine and the sights
and sounds of Mexico – a walk on the Malecon, a chance to practice Spanish with
the friendly marina staff, the Baja sunset over the breakwater while we eat in
the cockpit.
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| Early morning departure from Santa Rosalia -- goodbye to recent cruising buddies -- we'll see you down the road. |
Here are the highlights of our latest memories:
Departing from the comfort and constant comradeship of a
marina and friends at Santa Rosalia, we decided to test the waters a little
further north in the Sea of Cortez. The next anchorage with good protection was
78 miles, which meant up at 4 am and depart at 5, giving us plenty of time to
arrive at Bahia San Francisquito before dark. Now that daylight savings time
has started in Mexico, our sunlight hours are about 6am to 8pm - noticeably
longer. We had a beautiful sunrise and brisk sail, but with some confused seas.
Lanham’s
least favorite condition –
being constantly knocked about and unable to make efficient headway. Occasional
radio check-ins with a friend, Curtis, single-handing on his 46’ Hylas, Aurora, told us he was experiencing the same seas and had
had to take down his jib when he discovered a tear in one of the seams. He
still beat us into the bay by about an hour and had dinner going for us all as
we set the anchor.
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Solar Wind and Aurora -- the only boats north
in San Francisquito
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Each place that we have stopped has had its own unique rock
formations and hues, desert flora, bird and sea life. San Francisquito (which
we began calling San Fran-mosquito because it rolls off the tongue better) was
no exception. The mountain valley and arroyo at the head of the bay was
scattered with lacy sculpted sandstone cliffs and caves begging to be explored
on foot.
The water, a much colder 60 F. according to our boat’s thermometer,
was the typical two-tone blue distinguishing the shallows from the 20’depth
that we were anchored in (ha, that used to BE the shallows!).
A ride in the dinghy led to the amazing
discovery of hundreds of manta rays cruising the smooth sandy bottom – their
black and silver diamond shaped bodies skittering in flight under the still
water.
The water looked less than pristine for swimming; all around the boat
and along the tide line were scattered the dead and dying bodies of some sort
of orange shrimp. They were all 2 inches long, looking a lot like crayfish,
more exoskeleton than meat. Those that were alive swam adeptly by pulling all
their legs in and out breaststroke style. But there were way more carcasses
piled up than swimmers – just one of nature’s mysteries.
We were again glad to have our Sail-rite sewing machine on
board and dinghied it over to Curtis’s boat in the morning for an on deck
repair of his jib. Worked great, and good practice for us – we hope we can
always do it under such calm conditions. It takes at least two people to fold
and hold the bulk of the sailcloth out of the way and would be a much greater
challenge in high winds or seas.
We explored the sandstone caves, walked the beach, dinghied
into a tiny bay that was an outpost for a couple trailer homes and the Mexican
navy and spent a total of 4 days in this bay, waiting out big winds, but
completely secure on our anchor. We actually did reset the anchor once, and on
pulling it found it was covered with seaweed. Our new policy is to check and
reset the anchor every couple of days if we are going to be staying through a
strong wind forecast.
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| Desert in bloom |
While there is another third of the sea further north than
San Francisquito, we had a real sense of remoteness in this location. It was
away from Highway 1, and there were very few settlements for miles and miles
along the shore. In 4 days we saw no other cruisers (
Aurora headed across to the mainland to pick up family) and
only one fishing boat pulled in to wait out the afternoon 35 kt winds. When the
wind kicked up at night so did the coyotes howling on shore. It was quite the
concert, under a sky peppered with stars. Lanham aptly described it as looking
like someone had spilled talcum powder on black velvet.
Even though everyday is sunny in Mexico, weather is still
the great “decider.” Being on the water and dependent on wind speed and direction,
weather factors continue to be a major topic of consideration any time we are
thinking of leaving the dock. We have experienced the “elefantes”, squirrelly
and strong localized winds that are associated with clouds shaped like
elephants’ trunks, pouring over the Montana de la Gigante. In addition, since
spring has arrived we have prepared for and experienced the “coromuels,” evening southwesterlies
that blow warm 30+ kts in the evening or through the night. Coromuels are
caused by the cooler air from the Pacific traveling over the low Baja Peninsula
and meeting the warmer water and thus lower air pressure over the Sea of
Cortez. Looking at the forecasted wind direction is a big part of choosing an
anchorage. Many bays are only comfortable in a northerly, or a southerly, with
the “wrong” direction leaving you exposed to a rolly night or worse, a leeward
shore which could keep us awake, making sure we don’t drag into shallows. So it
stays interesting, and there is plenty to talk over when we start thinking
about moving or when choosing our night’s stop.
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| One of the anchorages we passed by -- on Isla San Marco, they mine and load gypsum -- which is the dust you see. |
As we got further north in the Sea of Cortez we also began
to see much larger tidal ranges and so the need to “watch the tides and
currents” when planning passages through the channels between islands. We tried
to do our homework, and talked to lots of people about where to get tide tables
and schedules. No one had definitive answers and unlike most of Puget Sound it
seems not as straight forward as two highs and two lows a day. It seems instead
to go one direction all day and the other the next. We are loath to find
ourselves motoring “against” a current that cuts our speed over ground by a
knot or two. And of course we will happily get up really early to catch a
current going our way – feels like free fuel to pick up that extra knot or two.
We think that the water that gets caught up in the northern end of the sea
creates it’s own tidal currents, swirling around and not emptying regularly…
but what do we know? Not wanting to mess around with more extreme tides and
currents, and having had our “alone” time up north, we decided to return south
to Santa Rosalia when the weather let up. By the way, we fished for hours both
directions and caught only seaweed – too cold we guess.
Playing Tourists
and
enjoying Food and Friends:
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| Checking out the Museo Boleo (historical mining museum) at Santa Rosalia |
We spent another week thoroughly enjoying Santa Rosalia, while getting a few boat projects done and doing more sightseeing. Here a a few of our favorite shots and some of the terrific people we enjoyed:
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| From the history museum -- a good view of the port |
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Mexican preschoolers are obsessed with Disney
Here is a Jardin de Ninos to delight any kindergartener. |
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| Old, but immaculate |
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The "old" minding facility -- reminds us of Gasworks Park in Seattle.
No regulations - you are free to wander -- and climb? |
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| A home on the hilltop in Santa Rosalia -- with its niche |
We walked the town with Eric and Christine,
from the sailboat, Indara. Their home in Gig Harbor, WA
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| Lanham and "the guys" helped out the marina staff one morning with repositioning the dock ramp |
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| Out and about town with Pepeh (Lanham's teaching him to shake hands) |
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Eating again, with John and Deb, Pepeh's mom and dad, from ScotFree, eh
-- home port, Vancouver, BC, eh! |
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| Melinda took a late afternoon walk up the hill to the cemetery |
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Colorful kid's socks drying on the line.Amid the clear poverty in parts of any Mexican town,
clean laundry -- and well-cared for children are the norm. |
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| Hearing about the ecology of the lagoon before going out to find whales |
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| An osprey on his roost |
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| The overnight facilities -- solar powered cabins and composting toilets |
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| Mounds of shells from the giant-sized scallops harvested in the bay |
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| Off we go |
We started with a little talk at the palapa-covered lodge,
at the end of the road. It was explained that the pangas stayed in a very small
area of the lagoon so the whales could come close or swim away from the boats
at any time. The boats never approached the whales, but might travel slowly
parallel to them and if the whales approached we might be able to touch them.
We piled into two pangas with expert drivers/guides and once we got into the
south end of the lagoon, the whales did indeed find us!
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| Surely that's a smile! |
For an hour and a half
we slowly cruised the waters, marveling at their displays -- breeching,
spouting, and coming up a foot from the gunnels of the boat to let us reach out
and rub their soft (yes, soft and squishy!) grey heads or bellies. They all
swam in pairs – moms and young ones. The babies seemed to be the less shy or
more curious. The moms were often very close, sometimes pushing the babies to
the surface, other times staying just a ways off, like supervising at the
playground. Both young and old had barnacles, or algae, or critters of some
kind growing on their hide, making an interesting texture and pattern. Nothing
catching we hoped.
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Curtis's mom, Jeanie, 85, as enthusiastic as the rest of us |
It was hard to stop grinning and marveling at their size,
power, and peaceful nature. Apparently, the viewing season ends mid-April, when
the mothers and babies migrate north to Alaska for the cooler summer water.
There were several tourist operations in this rather desolate remote stretch of
the western Baja coast. Several, including the one we went with had small solar
powered cabins or yurts for overnight accommodations. Before leaving we were
served a delicious lunch of fresh seafood. Giant scallops were the specialty of
the bay. It was good to see the local people blending their traditional
economic livelihood with an environmentally sensitive tourist business.
The very next day, we were up early again, for a morning
tour of Santa Rosalia’s giant new mining operation located on the outskirts of
the old town. We met our guide and driver at the Minera Boleo office, walking
distance from the marina. They did not speak English, so we again appreciated
our cruiser friend, Deb’s, translation ability.
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| Motley cruisers group again, ready to hit the mines outside Santa Rosalia |
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| Our tour guides and driver |
Earlier we had seen the historical
museum in the town and read about the French mining company that had made its
wealth in copper and left its print on the town. There are stories of the
terrible working conditions and labor unrest that resulted. They closed for
good about 20 years ago and the Mexican’s had gone back to fishing and
harvesting octopus for their livelihood. We heard that over-fishing was drying
up the economy until five years ago, when a joint venture between Canadian and
Korean companies started construction on a new mining operation. It is now
about two-thirds complete, and will be mining copper as well as magnesium and
obsidian.
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| Rescued cactus "22,297" |
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Each rescued cacti is numbered
Signs in English, Spanish and Korean |
We saw the camp where the workers are housed, fed, and entertained. We saw one of the green houses where they bring specimens of the 8 different kinds of cacti that are endangered and nurture them until they are relocated.
And we saw the amazing grading of the entire mountainscape, the construction of
the processing vats, the conveyor belt that will move the minerals through the
process, and the beginning of the 5,000 meter dock where cargo ships will be
loaded. One of the weird facts is that once they are operational they only
expect to stay profitable and open for 25 years, then phase three is to return
the landscape to its original setting. At the moment, the mine project is good
for the town and for employment – down the road, we wonder?
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| Solar Wind in the truly beautiful Bahia Concepcion (at Santispac) |
So, having had our marine biology experience and our social
studies/geology lesson we had a couple more great meals with friends, including
the weekend only special, roasted chicken and pork carnitas, at a favorite
restaurant. Provisioning with a full chicken and a kilo of pulled pork, we had
another early morning departure and a full day of sailing, returning to
Santispac in Bahia Concepcion.
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L's favorite way to end a day or christen a new anchorage -
A dive from the boat and a warm water rinse. |
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Lanham is doing a bottom scrub in the
chillier water -- his head has rubbed off some
of your bottom paint |
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Birds of many feathers hang out together here in the Sea.
We have even seen perfect V-formations made up of
multiple species -- pelicans, gulls, and boobies |
Santispac is where we had spent Easter, but now we
were facing a quiet beach san the holiday hoopla and crowds. Again, we waited
out some big wind, enjoyed the swimming and got the bottom of the boat
scrubbed, went to shore the third day there and borrowed our friend Swagman’s
truck for a trip to Hotel Serenidad.
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Hotel Serenidad -- a quaint fly-in hotel
We LOVED the sign advising pilots how to "take OOF" |
The "Duke" among other famous visitors spent time at this bar. We hope to come back -- anyone want to fly in with us?
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| Above the beach at Santispac -- a future building site for us??? |
We delivered his truck from its beach
parking spot to some Americans with a home up on the hill. We enjoyed meeting a
couple in this pretty cool little Gringo enclave, and had sweet dreams about
buying one of the lots for sale up there… dream on. We’ll have to go home and
think about it.
Expect the Unexpected
As we motored south, about 10 miles out into the Sea of
Cortez, our trip was drastically altered. Forward gear on the transmission
quite suddenly stopped propelling us forward. The engine sounded fine, neutral
and reverse did their job, but forward wasn’t getting us anywhere. The wind was
just coming up and … well, we ARE a sailboat. And from that moment on we had
the experience of true reliance on wind and patience to make our way. As we mulled over our options, going back did not seem like
much use, and there were no larger ports that would have repair facilities
until we got to La Paz. So sail (and flap and drift) we did.
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| We went to sleep here -- after 22 hours to "sail" 45 nm |
The first easy sure anchorage was about 45 miles (8 or fewer
hours with the motor). While we had some bouts of nice strong breeze, it was
all on the nose, so it added many miles to tack back and forth staying as close
to the wind as possible. As it got dark, we realized that with our current
speed and course we should plan to sail through the night, and try to anchor at
sun up to rest. We did, doing fine on our 2-3 hour watch schedule, but sitting
through several wee morning hours of dead calm. About 4 am, just as the full
moon set and it got really dark, we arrived at the bay that we thought would be
easy and calm to anchor. Using a GPS anchoring point from our chart, we motored
backwards over a mile to get to our
chosen spot, aware of rocks on one side and not sure of the depths on the other.
The wind came up once and we abandoned the idea, when it died again, we
re-backed over our tracks. By 6 am, 22 hours after leaving our last anchorage,
we had the hook down, the sun came up, and we went to sleep. Looking at the
transmission could wait until after our naps.
After satisfying (or disappointing) ourselves that it was
not some simple problem, like a line around the prop, a slipping cable, or an
adjustment on the transmission linkage, (Lanham dove on the prop, got out the
manual and readjusted linkage, etc) we decided to catch the afternoon’s
building breeze and sail on through the next night, leaving after 12 hours
rest. We must add, that it was very reassuring to have friends “out there” and
to have radio contact set up. We had a regular SSB radio chat time set up at 9
am and 7 pm and talked morning and evening with our buddies still behind in
Santa Rosalia. They readily offered to change their plans and come meet us to
try to facilitate getting back to La Paz. We declined, but know without a doubt
that they were there for us if we could have used the help. We were actually
feeling safe and sound, and enjoying the practice in true sailoring.
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This is the type of fishing buoy that we needed to be on the lookout for.
This one passed within two feet of our stern. Without a motor is is a much bigger deal
to navigate around obstacles of all kinds. |
We sailed
another 72 hours straight, staying out from the islands and coast about 20
miles. We stopped 4 more nights once we were down in the islands closer to La
Paz (Isla San Francisco, Ensenada Grande, Cabaza de Mechudo, and Bahia
Gallina). Looking back, these last few nights were restful.
When the wind was
not cooperating we just gave up on trying to make distance and stopped early to
swim, cook, and soak it up (suck it up too, our worry about the transmission
fix that would have to be postponed another day). We got better at backing in,
and even got experience in dropping and pulling anchor under sail.
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| Water yoga -- no better way to relieve the stress |
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Taking a break from the boat -- our kayaks have continued to get leakier
but we still love them
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Walking the dirt road at Cabeza de Mechudo
where Lanham almost stepped on this diamond-backed rattler in his tevas. |
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Back on board and heading to La Paz how ever fast (or slow) the wind would take us.
The dramatic Sierra Giganta mountain range.
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Two days from La Paz, while “underway,” but actually
drifting backwards on molasses flat water,
Lanham got busy with his tape
measurer, jigsaw, drill, screw gun, and 3 old pieces of plywood. (Never ask,
why you are bringing extra wood scraps). He fashioned a platform for the
outboard, screwed to the swim step.
With a few adjustments to height and angle
we were able to motor forward at 3.5 knots. We just needed to watch our gas
consumption and make sure we had plenty for the channel into La Paz and to navigate
into a slip.
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| Wah-Lah... we are moving forward |
For our last couple miles we got a boost from friend Curtis in his
dinghy with 15-horse engine, but the little outboard did its job moving around
the marina. Lanham says he meant to make a bracket before we left Seattle. It’s
not as pretty as that one would have been, but it worked. It will of course
live in the bilge for future emergencies (just to assure that it’s never needed
again.)
What next?
Our first week back here in the marina was spent
investigating the mind-boggling possibilities of replacing or repairing the
transmission in 3 weeks time. We pursued the possible purchase of a new BMW
engine that happens to be here in La Paz, for the purpose of trading out
transmissions and having it shipped to Seattle for future use. That was ruled
that out when we found the transmission gear ratio didn’t match ours. We had
calls and emails into shops in Cabo, Florida, and Seattle. After 4 days of
negotiating and putting it together we are now happy with our plan. We hope to
receive parts within a few days to have a mechanic we’ve located here rebuild
our current trans, again. AND, to be safe we are having a new transmission
(meets specs but slightly lighter duty) brought from Seattle with our friend
and Hawaii crewmember, Marcus. Which ever gets here and installed first will be
the one that takes us to Hawaii, and we will hopefully have a back-up for the
trip.
While we wait, oh so patiently and try to think oh so
positively, we are staying BUSY, getting the boat as prepped as possible.
Yesterday was mast day – Lanham was aloft for about 5 hours, inspecting,
lubing, cleaning, waxing. Melinda worked on deck polish and ran the L up and
down on the halyard. Today was sail day – we both worked on some stitching and
reinforcing of both sails. (We carry a spare main, a smaller spare jib, and 3
different storm sails, plus our light air asymmetrical spinnaker). The two
sails we have on now will be the best for the broad reach we expect to have for
most of the 2,000 miles of trade winds to Hawaii. Tomorrow we will polish
stainless and lubricate the deck hardware. We have a master list including
provisioning and topping off equipment. Plenty to do while we wait in our slip
to install a new transmission!!!
Including.... a trip to "The SHACK" a cruisers' hangout here in La Paz. It fits the budget and has lots of character, even if it's far from "authentic mexico."
The scene here at Marina Palmira is quite different than it
was in February and March. It’s only about a third full; many people are
cruising north in the islands, or heading to hurricane holes or boatyards to be
hauled out for the summer. It’s quiet and by mid-day it is heating up – mid
90’s without much breeze. The mosquitoes come out right after dark, so we come
inside with our bug screens on the hatches. We look forward to a few more
excursions into town, but with our departure date of June 21
st in
sight we are pretty focused on the next chapter. Stay tuned, we will post once
more before we push off!
The dinghy has
been partially deflated, covered and permanently strapped on the davits. We are
going to give it a try there for the beginning of the trip. The kayaks will be
put away, and the dinghy can be moved to the foredeck while underway if we
decide it is vulnerable on the transom.
Tuesday was a 40-mile day, mostly motor sailing, which
allows us to efficiently make water and keep the batteries topped up. The
refrigerator is definitely working harder than ever. Not only is the water warm
(75 – 80) but the refer is absolutely packed to the gills. We are hoping it can
keep up with the freezer full of meat and we hope we can keep up with eating
the fresh produce before it gets too ripe. Both will be difficult if we
continue to have the fishing luck that we had on our first full day out. We
caught 3 fish and lost a lure to another big hit! We let the first little Skip
Jack Tuna go, filleted the second medium-sized Skip Jack, and released the last
BIG Skip Jack, probably a 30-pounder!
Thursday morning had us up departing at sunrise again and
arriving 30 miles later at the tasteful San Jose del Cabo Marina.
