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Lovin' Los Gatos

5/23/2015

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Picture
Beautiful red rocks at Los Gatos
Timbabiche
On May 11th, we trekked up to Timbabiche, hoping this anchorage will keep us partially protected from the NE swell for the night.

We have been reading Steinbeck’s book ‘The Log from the Sea of Cortez’ - required reading for anyone traveling this way. The trip up to Timbabiche mirrored how Steinbeck describes the Sea of Cortez as a mirage. At one point early morning, the slate grey water merged into light grey sky, intermingling in the middle, difficult to discern one from the other. Later, blue sky way in the distance remained in the same spot all day, we could never reach it. But the tiny portion of robin’s egg blue reflection wiggled and intertwined and melted into the slate grey water, appearing as painted watercolor on canvas. The mild seas rolled like an undulating furry carpet. The Sierra Gigantas mountains are so big, so majestic, so steep and close to the sea that they look like a set from the movie Cars. The mirage is one endless mountain rather than thousands of indentations and coves, spires and cliffs. It is difficult to distinguish one bay from the next until you are actually in it.

We saw several large manta rays doing the wing-tip thing coasting along, bigger than their stingray buddies we had seen in the coves. We saw a few dolphins but they moved on before I could capture them on film.

At Timbabiche we ate lunch and sacked out in the cockpit, too tired from the sleepless “night of the fishes” to move. Later at 4pm it was finally sunny and we kayaked to shore and walked the beach. Take your pick of scenery: sand dunes, salt flats, a grand estuary, mangroves, rocky point with interesting jutting rock formations, all can be seen here. If I had another day I’d kayak up that long, lazy estuary.

We fired up the BBQ for cheddar-filled salchichas (brats) and couscous salad with orange, jicama, cilantro and roasted coconut. Nice night at anchor. Not much wind, no dragging, no anchor alarms, no flipping fishies.

Los Gatos 5/12/2015
 We were in no hurry to leave as our next spot, Los Gatos, was only 3 miles away. So I made apple pancakes! Los Gatos has several rocky reefs to avoid so we were tentative motoring around the anchorage for a half hour deciding on where to go; we finally set down in the south lobe. A group of campers were tented on the beach in the north lobe and no boats were in the south, should be better wind protection there, after all the wind was supposed to come from the southeast.

Amazing views all around: rocky point, perfect white sand beach, red rocks all around, another white sand beach, more red rocks and a pink sand beach, another rocky point. Just beautiful. I’m going to go out on a limb here…maybe the best anchorage so far, for a picturesque view.

We got the kayak out and paddled for the north shore towards the massive red rocks. What a sight. Hard-packed pink sand beach, not littered with rocks or shells, just perfect walking sand. And wide swaths of red-marbled sandstone, smoothed by the ages. As we hiked higher up the cliffs, jagged, wind-whipped out-croppings emerged, and shards of broken sandstone littered the cliffs making it difficult to get a good footing. The thin, flat pieces would jut out precariously like stepping stones with no lower support but were too brittle to use as such. We could see crevasses in the rock, so there’s no way we were getting too close to the edge of the cliff face to look over as I could picture a rock wall shear off and calve into the water 500 ft below with me in it. Not happening.

Around the point at sea level the red rock formations stopped and a whole new interesting scene appeared of amalgamated rock and shells, congealed over time. This stuff looked like someone had poured concrete and added toe-to-fist-sized rocks and shells into the mix and dropped it on this point. Nowhere else around had I seen such a mixture. We walked along the tide pools looking at the sea urchins and the crusty barnacles that seemed to hiss and whisper as the water edged over them. We saw tons of crabs… little phone-sized black ones that blended into the dark rocks. But as soon as you’d get near, they’d suddenly skitter away and scare the crap out of me, clicking their feet on the rocks like thousands of high heel shoes. I saw a large one, red and slow, either dying or just didn’t care about me. As I got closer he moved but slowly and cautiously, like he was anticipating my intentions. Maybe he wanted his picture taken just so I could show Jack and Lilah.

Hermit Crab Wars
Later as I was climbing on more sandstone I saw Brian crouched down, staring at something in the sand on the beach. I meandered down to see what was so interesting. He was entranced with watching 3 hermit crabs fighting.

Pepe was the mid-sized hermit crab and he had just got his butt kicked by Tiny, the littlest but meanest hermit crab of them all. Tiny crawled up on Pepe and poked and snapped and forced Pepe out of his shell. Tiny was a big bully and wanted Pepe’s shell for himself. It was bigger and had more room. Heck, he could have a 2-millimater flat-screen TV in his new living room now, it was so spacious.

Meanwhile, watching and cheering Tiny on was Carlos the cheater. Carlos knew what was happening and was one of those guys who sort of fakes getting in on the action but doesn’t really commit. So he was pinching here and there, backing off, coming in again to say “Yeah, take that Pepe”, but he didn’t want to get too close to Tiny. What Carlos really wanted was Tiny’s shell. He figured after Tiny got his new shell from Pepe that he could have it. But Tiny was an even bigger jerk than all of them imagined. Tiny wanted to KEEP his shell too and fought Pepe and Carlos for it, holding it in between his claws and trying to drag it away with him.

Finally, Carlos was so mad that Tiny wouldn’t give up his house, (he didn’t need 2 for gosh sakes) and picked at Tiny just enough to get him away from his previous shell. Carlos quickly switched shells, leaving his discarded and even smaller shell for Poor Pepe.

So in the end, Tiny bullied his way into a huge house with a three car garage because he thought he deserved it. He looked ridiculous carrying around all that baggage; he was top-heavy and stumbling around, but by God he had a bigger house than all of them. What Tiny didn’t stop to think about was a bigger house means a bigger mortgage, and his lost ability to be fast and nimble will probably sink him in the end.

Carlos now has Tiny’s house. He had a perfectly fine house before; in fact it was probably about the same size as his old one. But Carlos was like the vulture, picking up the remnants after they are discarded… just because he could.

Pepe, unprotected and sad, struggled to climb into Carlos’s abandoned house but he was just too big. He looked like a man trying to force his monster size-11 feet into size 8 sandals… his heel sticks out the back, his toes wiggle out the front, altogether highly uncomfortable. Stuck halfway outside Carlos’s smaller shell, Pepe crawled slowly away instead of scurrying as he should. I am no crustacean expert, but I assume he will sadly die from exposure unless he can find a bigger shell.

The moral of the story is: Don’t be like a hermit crab.
  • Don’t try to take other people’s stuff. Don’t be a bully.
  • Don’t sit on the sidelines and cheer on other people taking other people’s stuff. (Baltimore) Don’t be a coward.
  • Don’t abscond with the leftovers when you KNOW the poor homeless guy needs it more. Don’t covet your neighbor’s trash.
  • Fight back harder when someone does try and take your home. It’s YOUR home. Don’t be a whimp. Fight back when you are being bullied.
I think Pepe should have gotten his concealed carry permit. Sometimes claws are not enough. Just sayin’.

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Simple San Evaristo

5/23/2015

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Picture
Sunrise at San Evaristo
May 8-10th
I had wanted to stay in San Francisco to do some more hiking and rock-hunting but we didn’t think it would be good wind-wise as the winds were supposed to get stronger over the next few days. So we left for San Evaristo about 7 miles away, across the narrow San Jose Channel and back to the Baja Peninsula.

San Evaristo is a small fishing/goat-herding/salt mine village of about 20 families, 3 hours by 4-wheel drive truck from La Paz. After anchoring, we relaxed and stayed on the boat, reading, napping, writing, etc. For the first time in 4 days, we slept through the night. Thank. God.

The next morning, Gary, the go-to weather guy from the ham radio Sonrisa Net, says high winds are coming in and already at noon we are experiencing gusts to 20kts at times. You can see the channel outside the bay getting choppy. A friend boat “Resolution” arrived from Isla San Francisco and told us about their miserable night rolling in wrap-around swell all night long. So as much as I wanted to stay in SF another day, Brian WAS right and it was a good thing we left. Yes, sometimes he IS right. We stayed there for 3 nights due to strong winds for the next couple days. No more anchor dragging despite the higher winds. 

Water!
Brian, in searching for what the air vent in the sink goes to, found a leak in the hose connection for the aft water tank that is a slow leak into the bilge. We saw water in there the other day and thought it might be from the packing gland or from all the anchor water draining from the chain into the bilge every time we pull up the anchor. Apparently not. It’s a slow leak and we are not equipped to fix it other than to keep the aft tank half full to keep it from draining. Good thing we have a water-maker.

Speaking of that, we made water for the first time with our watermaker. Yay! OK it was the second time, but this was the first time we would use it in a real cruising situation, not just for testing. It took us about an hour to refill our tanks as we don’t let them get much below half (we have tanks for 70 gallons).

I filled up an additional 2 buckets of water using “free” test water and did a big load of laundry. I washed (plunged – see photo of my plunger washer) about 2 shirts in a “set”, plunging about 100 times per set, using the same detergent water for everything. Putting aside the wet cleaned clothes, I poured out the dirty detergent water. Then I rinsed… again 2 shirts at a time, doing my “sets” (great for the triceps), plunging fresh water through and rinsing each “set” in just a few cups of new water each. The plunger works by pushing and sucking water through the material with each plunge down onto the clothing; plus it stows easily. It took at least an hour to do one full load (several shirts, shorts, and a couple yoga pants), but as Brian says, what else do I have to do that day? Isn’t he funny?

Boat pot-luck
“Resolution” invited us to their boat for dinner. So in the afternoon I made oatmeal/cranberry/raisin/almond bars for dessert. Just so you understand the time involved in endeavor such as this: 2 hours from 4pm-6pm, including 40 min of baking time which also is clean up time. Resolution was going back to La Paz in a couple days and had over-provisioned, so they made us a virtual feast. Margaritas, pork filets on the BBQ, farfalle/garbanzo bean salad, real salad with actual lettuce (too fragile to store on my boat) and tomato, roasted green poblano chilies with cheese, fresh cantaloupe… and my lowly bars. I can’t even cook more than 2 dishes at a time and that’s only if the second is rice or pasta to be put into the first, let alone make 5 courses. Some people have that amazing talent for entertaining…and the fridge space. Jealous. I envy having space in my refrigerator for an entire cantaloupe.

El silencio de la noche
That night we slept like rocks but woke up in the middle of the night knowing something wasn’t quite right. It wasn’t; it was a still as a lake. Windy anchorages are no fun; but no wind is also disconcerting. After so many days of motion, such stillness was downright eerie. We felt as though we were in a sensory deprivation chamber or ensconced in a black hole. No sound, no movement whatsoever, pitch black… we couldn’t even tell we were on a boat. That night it creeped us out enough that we went up on deck just to make sure we weren’t floating off into Never-Never Land. So sorry, it was all a just dream, you have to get up for work in an hour…NOOOooooo.

Hiking San Evaristo
The next morning the weather net still predicted more northwest winds and Mother Nature did not disappoint. We kayaked to shore and after hiking a half mile, we arrived at the salt ponds on the north shore where it was blowing like snot. We were glad we stayed put… the waves were looking pretty squirrely in the San Jose Channel. 

The salt ponds on this side of town are very neat and orderly, large mushy rectangles lined with rocks. Perfectly smooth, round pebbles lined the shore in masses here  - the kind that would cost a mint for your backyard garden pond. Like pebble dunes instead of sand dunes, all the loose stones caused a minor landslide with each step. A small cemetery with about 6 tombs surrounded by a short rock wall sat lonely in the corner of the beach.

We walked back to the village on the dusty road that only a 4-wheel drive would love. Past the small one-room school house. Past a fishing shack with the guts of a fish hanging from a clothesline. Past ramshackle casas smaller than a 2-car garage, with no electricity other than a lone solar panel. One house boasted the decayed remnants of 4 pickups in a row, each broken down further than the next, scavenged for parts for the current truck.

We walked past a fisherman feeding scraps to the pelicans who lined up waiting patiently for a few bits. We noticed the seagulls around here are quite fat and happy, and lazy, barely moving from their resting spots as we pass by. They squawk louder and more annoyed the closer we get… “really… don’t you come over near me… this is my spot…seriously… I mean it… I’m not getting up…ohhh fine… dammit.” They get up from their comfy seat, waddle sleepily a couple feet away just out of reach, and settle back down.

Tacos de Pescado
We came to the town restaurant (singular): Lupe & Sierras & Maggi Mae’s Restaurant. The owner (Maggi and her husband Lupe) operates this little gem out of their house - you can see the beds behind the curtain off the kitchen. We eat in plastic furniture on their little patio adorned with home-made shell and dried starfish garland fencing that hung and twirled in the wind. Basically the menu is: fresh fish, whatever that happened to be at the moment. Decide if you want it fried and breaded (emparizado), just fried, or poached for 100 pesos with rice, avocado and cucumbers. I had awesome 80 peso ceviche with big chunks of cucumbers. SOOO good I had to take a picture. And cokes for 15 pesos each. That’s a dollar. So for 210 pesos or $14 plus a big tip we had a truly awesome lunch. Forgettaboutit.

F-ING FISHES…
Our 2-night, sinfully quiet, sleep streak was rudely interrupted. The wind had died completely and as it got dark our little cheapo solar cockpit lights came on ($3 home depot garden lights) and the illumination drew the plankton near the boat…which drew the fish to eat them. These particular fish were loud, they’d fidget and swish, splatter and splish, and generally cause a ruckus. We’d seen them before at another anchorage and it was cool to watch. If I’d had a net I could easily scoop up a dozen of them at a time and never run out of food for the rest of the year. Usually they got bored and went away after awhile…

As the night wore on, and I mean wore on… and we tried to sleep, it got progressively worse. Normal fishies, when encountered with something looming in their path, like a snorkel-masked human, or a huge lurking sailboat hull, naturally dart out of the way, seemingly in the nick of time. Most fish are smart in that way; not these fish. Whatever these were, some moronic carp-like creature at the bottom rung of the food chain, they ignored the boat hull completely in their feeding frenzy. They slid and slapped, whipped and whacked their 2-foot-long bodies against the hull. ALL. NIGHT. LONG.

I’m trying to sleep here! The water-line is about level to our v-berth where we sleep. Every few seconds…thud, shwack, flap and gurgle…right next to my head.  Of course it was completely still, so no wind or wave noise means every sound is amplified. Eventually Brian went out and moved the lights a bit higher to eliminate the shine down into the water. But it was too late. They already claimed their spot and I swear I heard them calling to their other fishy friends telling the whole bay just what a great meal they were having at that Indigo boat.

This same night of the frolicking fishies was also the same night that I heard someone’s alarm go off at 4am on shore, beep-beep-beep for several minutes at a time. Then it would stop, then 15 minutes later it would start up again. It was so faint I almost thought I was crazy but when Brian woke up he confirmed I was not. At least this time.

The final straw in the camel’s back was about 5am, when we were going to get up at 6am to begin our long 26 mile trek up to Timbabiche, the roosters started. It was dark out. Completely. I had just commented that morning that the chickens here seemed to be pretty lazy, cock-a-doodle-doing at a measly 9:30am. Sheesh. Should have kept my mouth shut. Later, I realized they crowed at 9:30 on a Sunday when nobody worked, and 5am on Monday. Smarter than your average fish at least.
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Enchanting Isla San Francisco

5/20/2015

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Picture
East side of Isla San Francisco. We're the blue boat.
Leaving our much-loved Isla Ispiritu Santos, we were headed for parts unknown. Isla San Francisco, a tiny island about 20 miles north, is one everyone raves about; a must-see. As we motored out into the sea it was blowing a minimal 10kts. The waves were about 2ft at 4 seconds, close together and a bit choppy. Problem was, it was in the direction we were going (of course). While sailing close-hauled and getting bogged down by each wave, we were managing only 2-3 kts with all 3 sails up. Plus, the forecast was for the wind and waves to increase throughout the day.  So we decided to rebel against all conventional ‘nauticalism’ and started the motor. Yes, with all 3 sails. Usually motor-sailing is only done with the mainsail to add lift and bumps our speed up a knot or so; but you rarely motorsail using all three sails.

I know, I know, that’s just crazy. Who DOES that? Certainly we never had before, but I’m not sure why… usually it causes the headsails to luff.  We certainly were never taught by our sailing instructors TO do it. Blasphemy? Bah humbug.  We were making 6.5 knots! The boost the motor created to keep us from slowing down every 4 seconds we hit a wave added to the sailing power and we combined forces for the good, like Luke and Leah fighting the evil empire. While yes, we were using fuel, we were also making better time against the waves than we could either sailing alone (2-3kts) or motoring (5kts) alone. Why didn’t anyone ever tell us about this little trick?

We got to the island in record time. Along the way, we were followed for a minute by a pod of dolphins and then saw a 5ft manta ray leap from the air in the rough waters. Upon arrival we scouted out the south bay which is most popular for its picture perfect beach and crystal water. But if we had another southerly wind tonight like last night we’d get whacked as it was exposed to the south. So we went around the bay to the other side. Not as postcard perfect but still very cool in its unique way.

Kayak’s maiden voyage.
It took a while to blow up our new kayak, figure out how to get it in the water from the boat deck, and then how to get ourselves in it without tipping over. We had high hopes after hauling it down from San Diego and we love it… rudder pedals work well for turning, the tiny 4” keel tracks nicely, it doesn’t bow in the middle with 2 people’s weight. We have been using this exclusively as our dinghy ever since this day as it’s so easy to deploy.

Exploring
We hiked across the low, crunchy, salt flats to the original picture perfect anchorage. Sparkling crescent beach meets stunning aquamarine bay. There were so many shells, all bleached a perfect white, speckled amidst tiny red rocks. Then we explored our opposite side of the island along the rocky beach. Ground smooth by wave action, a beautiful array of stones lined the shore… black, grey, green, rust, maroon, even clear quartz. I may have found an agate; they are supposed to be plentiful on this beach. I could stay here for days.

I hiked up the steep hillside topped with loose, rusty shale to take a photo of the bay. I imagined one false movement bringing an avalanche of red shale 300ft down to the water in an instant landslide. In many places this seemed to have occurred already, cliffs sheared off leaving exposed some sort of crusty, mossy green stuff, not sure if it’s rock or some form of lichen. The cliffs are dusted with a lone cactus here and there but mostly slabs of the pink and maroon colored shale, patches of green sea grass and tufts of straw yellow scrub. From the boat it is a beautiful kaleidoscope of desert colors.

It’s 9pm and I am sitting out in the cockpit. It’s still, no bugs, perfect temperature of 73 degrees. We are pointed as anticipated, south, with a gentle roll from the east. I type this outside in the cockpit, in complete darkness using my back-lit keyboard, hearing the lapping of waves on the rocky beach. Finally a decent night’s sleep.

Not so fast…
It was calm for much of the early part of the night, then about midnight it started gusting. Brian got up of course, and watched the anchorwatch hold right at our radius limit of about 158 ft. Then all of a sudden Brian watched the boat move about 25ft on the gauge, setting off the alarm. Did we drag anchor?  Perplexing. Discouraging. Inconceivable. There was barely 15 knots of wind that night, normally nothing for our Rochna anchor. We have held in much higher winds with less chain out.  We let out some more chain and that held through the night. Still, another sleep-deprived night.

We sat up at 1am contemplating this phenomenon; 3 nights in a row we have had issues setting our anchor. This is inconceivable; we never have a problem, and we have been in some 25-30 kt winds at anchor.  This last night was the last straw. It should never have moved in 15ft with 150ft of 5/16” chain out and only 15 kts of wind. That is ridiculously lame, any anchor should hold like nobody’s business in that little wind.

There were two possible factors for those 3 disturbing nights.

1.) The wind shifted all three nights (but that is pretty much the norm here) and maybe the anchor didn’t reset properly with the new wind direction.  Hard pack sand?  Rocks?  But again, the wind shifts in the anchorages here 2,3 or more times daily.  The anchor has never had a problem resetting in the daytime before – it's inconceivable! (You keep saying that...I don’t think that word means what you think it means).

2.) Prior to leaving La Paz, Brian added an Anchor Rescue. This is a collar and small chain contraption bolted around the anchor shaft to assist getting the anchor up if fouled on a line on the sea floor, conveying the anchor up and out at a different angle. It SHOULD have no effect on anchoring.  But, maybe the collar isn’t allowing the shaft to penetrate the sand and dig in?  It is the only thing we are doing different in our anchoring technique. So Brian removed it the following morning and we have had no issues since. We will eventually put it back on to test anchoring with and without it in equivalent conditions, but for now, we just need a good night’s sleep.
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Leaving La Paz

5/18/2015

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Picture
On our way!
Successfully sailing Indigo for 12 days down the Pacific coast of Mexico does not make us “cruisers”. For the last 5 months we have been ensconced in a slip, other than a few side trips to the island. I CAN honestly say we are now “liveaboards” (people who live on their boat full time). But living on a boat in a marina, a resort marina at that, is pretty easy living. We eat out all the time, we go relax at the pool, we get shuttled to town and back, I have people to do my laundry for gosh sakes. We never worry about the weather other than to wonder if it’s too cool out to go to the pool. Life is so tough.

So this 2 month journey from La Paz to San Carlos is our introduction to being “real cruisers”. We must be self-sufficient. We will be at anchor the entire time. No slips. I will be cooking every meal for the next 2 months; when’s the last time THAT happened? NEVER. Will we have enough food? Will my veges last or will they all be rotted in a matter of 2 weeks? Did I plan my groceries appropriately enough so that we won’t be eating pasta and butter the last two weeks of the trip? Did I buy enough cheese? I feel like I should have bought more cheese. Cheddar, gouda, edam, mozzarella, parmesan, pepper jack, little elsie cows, cheese sticks. I am a cheeseoholic. Enough toilet paper? Eh? Good question.

Will our electrical output vs. usage be adequate? What about our watermaker? This will be its first real-world test. And the refrigerator has been upping its amp usage the hotter it gets. What if that blows out on us? These are all worries that linger in the back of our minds, but we have prepared as much as possible. It’s never enough… and if you keep prepping, you’ll never see anything.

I AM looking forward to the adventure, the spectacular anchorages, the white sand beaches and the desert vistas. This is what we came here for, not to sit in the marina and sip iced tea by the same pool every day. No, we came for the cruising part, the exploring part, and the only way to start is just to start. I am grateful for the time spent at the marina, getting a really good feel for living on the boat and living in Mexico. Over these months we have happily settled into liveaboard life. So I think that experience will make it easier to transition now into cruising.

Trip Prep:
We got back from San Diego April 27th but kept the car an extra day, knowing we needed to ‘food up’. Tuesday was our colossal grocery shopping excursion and then I spent hours putting everything away… except for the canned goods which remained scattered all about the boat. The next day I sat on the floor for 3 hours playing “Can Tetris”. With all the cans surrounding my feet, I shuffled my plastic trays in and out, over and over, deciphering which can should go where for maximum space usage. All but 4 cans of coconut milk fit; it was a miracle. Indigo lists to one side from the weight of all the cans. Not kidding. Can’t see the red line on that side…

Wednesday, we drove our final trip into town to Hertz and dropped off our Nissan. Walking to breakfast we noted how we were fine with getting rid of the car. Over the next several days we slowly finished one project at a time:
  • Went to the farmer’s market on Saturday one last time to load up on vegetables.
  • Filled up our water tanks. We had filled up our gas tanks prior to going to San Diego. 
  • Backflushed our watermaker to get it ready to start producing water once we were out there.
  • Brian installed a fan into the cockpit locker to assist the airflow of the refrigerator.
  • I wrote 3 blogs about our drive.
  • Laundry. Bills. Cleaning. Stowing. More cleaning. More stowing.
  • Called our parents one last time before setting off into the great unknown of no cell towers.
  • Final treat: an entire ½ day to go see The Avengers 2 on its first day in Mexico.

On Monday we were finally ready to go so we went to the pool for the last time and ate filet mignon and bacon wrapped pork filet at our favorite restaurant, Azul, since we knew we weren’t going to get “real” red meat for a while. OMG it was the best, most perfect meal ever.

Tuesday morning we readied the boat for sailing. Off to the beach club for a final breakfast and there we saw on TV the news of the devastating massive waves churned up by a far-off Pacific storm. These after-effect waves hit Acapulco, Costa Rica, El Salvador and Panama, plowing through ocean-front homes and restaurants. We wondered if we should even venture out ourselves. But it seemed the worst was over and it affected only the southern portion of Mexico. So we decided to shove off.

After 5 months in La Paz, we slipped the surly bonds of land and headed out to sea. It’s even Cinco de Mayo…a cause for celebration!

First stop: Caleta Lobos. Tues. 5/5/2015
Only 5 miles away, this is the perfect first stop to regroup and get used to living at sea again. It has good protection from northern and southern winds and is usually quiet. Except this time there was already 4 boats anchored by the time we showed up at 2pm, and of course had taken over the spot we wanted, for shame.

We both got in the water for an hour to clean the hull (w/ wetsuits, water temp is only 73 degrees). Cleaning the bottom is exhausting…breathing in and diving and brushing and swimming up and gasping for air. Over and over and over.  It’s much easier with the compressor but we didn’t want to disturb the peace for the other boats; the compressor is LOUD.

While eating dinner, we witnessed a spectacular, stunningly awesome sunset. Maybe the best I’ve seen yet. It’s the kind that could make you cry. (YANG)

That night the wind shifted to the south about 9pm after blowing from the north all day.  Due to the wind switch we weren’t sure if the anchor totally reset as we kept setting off the anchor alarm.  I assumed that we were just stretching out the chain. So we reset the anchor alarm, increased the radius by 10 feet and went back to bed.  This happened 4 or 5 times.  We didn’t want to let out more chain, due to the boat just behind us and to the left, so we would watch for a while, go back to bed and repeat.  Suffice it to say, we didn’t sleep much that first night. (YIN)

Caleta Partida – Wed 5/6/2015
We got up relatively early to make the big trek to Caleta Partida, a whole 16 miles away. After coffee and cereal with real blueberries (like gold coins they are so rare) we had a lovely sail. Winds about 10kts, seas were nice, I drove and let Brian sleep since he kept getting up all night. We were really on our way…time for some tunes to commemorate.   Tom Petty. “Runnin’ down a dream, never would come to me. Workin’ on a mystery, goin’ wherever it leads, Runnin’ down a dream, ba dah deh, dah deh, dah deh, bum pah.”

At Partida we anchored near the little fish shack on the north corner in about 14 ft.  The water was spectacular blue but just murky enough you couldn’t see through it. A couple kid-boats were anchored nearby and they were redneck water-skiing (behind a dinghy standing on or clinging to a surfboard). Looked like fun. (The term ‘kid-boat’ just means boats with kids on them.)

A monster 100-foot sleek power boat (with 8 party-goers blaring the Bee Gees and Enya) parked comfortably far enough in front of us that afternoon.  But about 9pm the winds started to build, ripping through the pass at about 18 knots.  As we sat in the cockpit it became apparent that the power boat was slowly dragging anchor towards us and another boat, swinging wildly in the wind.  They had every possible light on, including the bright, electric blue hull light which illuminated the depths of the sea. We could sense it getting closer, but the confirmation came when we could ultimately see our own hull grazed by that blue light.

We kept watching and sending out ESP signals, and about 10pm we saw a guy up on deck staring at us. Contemplating. That’s usually a good sign. He reset the anchor, right in front of us again, but at least farther away this time.  Then they turned out all the lights and went to bed. Brian decided to sleep in the cockpit and keep an eye on the behemoth, no longer trusting it.  Sure enough, they slowly drug towards us, but not too close before the sun came up.  Didn’t sleep much that night either.

As we weighed anchor in the morning, we had to get uncomfortably close to the powerboat since our anchor position was about 30ft away from him. THAT got everybody up on their bridge to watch us. All 8 guys sitting out there drinkin’ coffee, watching us slowly motor the boat closer… close enough to have a quiet conversation. I smiled and waved goodbye. Gotta wonder if they even feel a little bit guilty. Probably not.

All in all our first two DAYS have been brilliant. The first two NIGHTS, not so much. Like I said. Yin and Yang!
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Sunny San Diego

5/4/2015

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Picture
Oceanside Harbor view from our room.
Oh, how it is good to be back in the states. I don’t want for a thing. I can just drive and get it. Panera? Yes, let’s go. Five Guys hamburgers, you bet. In-and-Out, The Pit Stop, Bobby’s Hideaway (our breakfast fav), Local Tap House (new and awesome in O’side), and 83 degrees in Carlsbad are just a few of the places we frequented.

In 10 days I felt we shopped at every retail store known to man, sometimes multiple times, searching for a specific wrench or wirenut, etc. that we can’t find in Mexico. Lowes, Home Depot, REI, Frys, Walmart, Target, Trader Joe's, Best Buy, West Marine (of course), Campers World, (breath)….Kohls, Sears, Guitar Center, Harbor Freight, etc etc. Whew! You name it, we were there.

I am not a shopper. I do not enjoy going to the mall and walking around for hours perusing each and every store. So I don’t. I have to be in a certain mood to do that, and it happens once every couple years. So while we were on our ‘forced march’ shopping extravaganza, furiously driving from one store to the next, it was not only tiring physically but I actually got TIRED of spending money!

While it was cool to finally be able to shop in familiar stores and get exactly what I needed in 1 or 2 stops (as opposed to 5… or just not), the tendency to buy “just because it’s there and I might never get this chance again as I will be in Mexico for 6 more months” was intense. I really had to concentrate to rein myself (and Brian) in. Did I really need to buy that 20-pack of peanut butter toasties crackers? Yes. Yes I did.

Funny thing was, as much as I missed having a car for convenience, I was literally EXHAUSTED from all the shopping and driving around we felt we had to pack into our stay. On top of our buying spree, we also saw 2 movies, and had 8 misc. appointments for dentist, hair, VA and eyes. And we drove the hour down to San Diego 3 times in 2 weeks for various appointments or parts pickups. By the end of our stay, I got a major cold. The return trip was miserable for me, and probably almost as miserable for Brian (who NEVER gets sick), having to put up with my sniffling and hacking. I haven’t had a cold since I stopped working …almost a year ago...not until I go back to the states. Ironic.

Best and Worst. The best part was visiting with friends. The worst part was it wasn’t enough. We just didn’t have enough time to see everyone. I returned to my former place of work and several people were out the day I showed up. That was my fault for trying to surprise them, but I was sad. There were so many others I wished we could have seen but we knew it would have been too much. So, to all of you who we neglected, know we miss you and think of you often.

We realized something significant though – except for our friendships, there are just some things we don’t miss about San Diego...

It’s cold here! When we left La Paz it was 95 degrees; the 65 degree weather in San Diego was COLD! Yeah, I'm the first to admit I am a whimp.

We don’t miss the driving so much. Missing HAVING a car and missing DRIVING it are two different animals. While driving in Mexico can be nerve-racking, it is just as nerve-wracking in San Diego… for different reasons. It was a bit worrisome to be driving a Mexican plated rental car under Mexican rental-car liability in the most sue-happy state in the union. That week our friend was threatened with a lawsuit for an accident that was 100% the other guys fault, AND he could prove it. It wasn’t until he threatened to sue back that they started back-pedaling. Mind-boggling stuff.  San Diego is no Mayberry, it’s the land of lawyers and insurance.

We both don’t miss TV. We now watch DVDs or Netflix only. I felt bombarded by commercialization when watching TV almost every night for 2 weeks. I now feel like I DO need a new car “Mossy Nissan…it will move me.”

We do not miss screaming children in Walmart (I notice kids are much more well-behaved here).   

We do not miss working. You know that stressed feeling that creeps up into your chest while driving into work every day? You begin cataloging all the things you need to get done that day, knowing you can’t possibly get to them all? And it’s so bad on Sunday nights that you can’t sleep, worrying about the coming week? Each day I waited for that next proverbial shoe to drop. Name your shoe: firings, hirings, more firings, impromptu board meetings, website’s down, catalog is late, printer is down, insert X challenge here. Yeah, I am happy to report I am free of that anxiety. I will take a cheaper lifestyle any day. I DON’T need that new Nissan after all.

The number one thing… and really the only thing we truly DO miss… is our friends and our family…much more than we thought. I was disappointed we did not get a chance to visit with some very good friends. And there was simply not enough time to talk about everything that has happened with each person we DID get to see. I could not have foreseen that visiting with someone for 2 hours would simply not be enough! And this happened again and again. This sounds crazy coming from a couple of people who have the tendency to be non-social. I guess we have discovered we really DO like people. ;) We talked more in two weeks than we have in two months. I’m surprised I didn’t get laryngitis.

All in all, the entire trip went like clockwork. We bought all our necessities, saw some friends, ate some good food, fixed our solar panels, got through our appointments and renewed our visas. By the way, the Tijuana entry into Mexico took us only 40 minutes to get our visas at the immigration office. It was actually much easier than I thought. Visas in hand, there was NO line at the car checkpoint on a Saturday at 10am. They didn’t even stop us to check our passports. I had filed paperwork with the La Paz customs office for our $3000 worth of solar panels to make sure we were not dinged with paying 16% import taxes on them since they were a boat repair item. I probably shouldn’t have even bothered as they barely garnered a glance, but we felt better knowing we had the paperwork in case we were asked.

The trip back down was uneventful; same hotels, just no down-time in Loreto unfortunately. Driving was definitely easier the second time around. And 21 days, 4500km, and a really dirty car later, we are safely back in La Paz. We kept the car purposefully for one extra day so we could do one last grocery shopping extravaganza at Mega and Chedraui to provision for our two-month trip up the coast starting May 4th-ish. We were happy to give up the car and get back to the boat where I had the best night sleep ever. It’s good to be home. Yet we kept speaking of San Diego as going back “home” too. So which is it? I guess we have multiple homes now. Where our friends and families live…and wherever the boat is.
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Traveling The Trans-peninsular

5/3/2015

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Picture
Baja California's Trans-Peninsular Highway 1
The trip up the Baja Peninsula to San Diego was more of a race than a lazy road trip. Get from Point A to Point B as fast as possible. This was to be our first time driving a car in Mexico. Sitting in taxis, buses, shuttles and other people’s cars for the last 5 months gave us a good idea, but it’s far different when you are the one required to pay attention. We rented from Hertz La Paz and highly recommend them, so much so I could (and might) write an entire blog just about car rental in Mexico.

We had read many helpful internet articles and interrogated other cruisers about driving in Mexico but that left us only partially prepared. Knowing and doing are two different animals. Despite all the helpful info, it was nerve-racking for the entire 3 days… and I wasn’t even driving. Once we did it the first time though, going back down was a breeze; now we know what to expect.

The road itself, while in excellent condition overall, was slow. We averaged a whopping 40mph over 980 miles. Our 3-day drive consisted of 5hr/9hr/11hr days, with that last day including 2 hrs of border crossing time. This was a no lunch stoppage, gas/pee only kind of trip. Ok, just once - Carl's Jr. in Ensenada. Yeesss. Guilty as charged.

The reason for our slowness was many:
Roaming livestock: Mexico has zero highway fencing as we do in the US. Our first encounter included cows AND cops; the Federale was herding several of them off to one side with his patrol car. Along the way we also warily eyed many fidgety goats in the ditches several feet away but luckily they didn’t seem to want to jump out at us like deer. Dogs are always running about. Burros were often tied up to a tree along the highway - I don’t get that. One cow stood unmoving right on the white line grazing on scrub grass… “F.U.” it said, as we honked our way by. Luckily, we passed the animal obstacles pretty easily.

Average speed limit of 60 kph. That’s like 40 mph. Seriously. Is this Florida? And of course we were afraid to go faster (on the trip up) fearing a ticket. The highest we ever saw was 100kph = 62mph but that was rare, even on a straight-away; 80 kph was quite often = 47mph; 40kph = 24mph was very often. Why?

Curves galore. Rocky, mountainous terrain is the norm along much of Highway 1. Mountains equal curves…curves with sheer drop-offs and no shoulders and semi’s bearing down us around a blind corner veering 1/3 of the way into our lane. We were glad our tiny rental car squeezed though those scary moments. Several times, I might add. We drove behind a semi with his outside dually wheel hanging off the concrete, mid-air. Nail-biting. Not as bad as driving some of the back roads in the Rockies but this IS supposed to be a highway. I can’t imagine driving this road in the 1970’s.

Did I mention no shoulders? While it is apparent this major arterial highway has received significant attention, there are still quite a few stretches with no shoulders. I’m talking white line painted right on the crumbling concrete edge, no gravel border, just dropping off sharply into a ditch… or a mountain valley. No biggie. I envisioned one slight wrong move and cart-wheeling the car instantly. Did I say I was anxious?

Speed bumps. Our nemesis. We found speed bumps on seemingly every curve, in front of every checkpoint, and in towns of all sizes… down to not-even-a-town with just 1 house/store. The gigantic ones are neck-wrenchers and suspension-killers at 2-3x the normal size, I estimate 5ft thick x 8”high. They really get your attention when you don’t see them. Why? Because they are rarely painted! Usually there is a warning sign…usually. In towns we watch for the lead vehicle’s sudden jolting motion as an affirmation of their existence.

Rumble Strips! Often, these speed "mountains" are preceded by the same jarring rumble strips that we use in the US, increasing in proximity and annoyance the closer you get to “the big one”. These strips are also found around curves. I know they save lives, but here they almost always stretch across the entire road. Great when approaching a curve, but then you are forced to stay slow and be subjected to 20 strips again on the way out! Caution, you just exited a sharp turn. Head-scratching. Our rental car was a brand new 2015; I’m sure it has aged at least 2 years in 3 weeks due to hundreds of speed bumps wreaking havoc on the suspension.

Military checkpoints: We went through probably 8 or so checkpoints each way, so many we lost count. It made me nervous at first, but they were all courteous and are really just on the lookout for drugs and guns. They are performed by either the military or the Federales and we were never asked for a bribe. Most inspections are cursory. The officer asks where you are coming from and where you are headed. Know how to say: Venimos de San Diego y vamos a La Paz. He says: “Ah, vacaciones?” You say “Si. Vacaciones.” He does a visual sweep of the car and waves us through.

A few times we weren’t even stopped. Sometimes there is a more thorough inspection where we both have to get out, open all the doors and 2 or more officers go through the car. Essentially they open some bags, poke around and they are done. This only happened 3 times. We had our solar panels in the trunk (weird for a vacationer right?) - they were given only a cursory glance. We used Brian’s green, canvas, military duffle bag for a suitcase (ugly but durable and fits flat under our V-berth when not traveling) and we were questioned as to what was in it and searched every time…looks blatantly military and therefore suspicious. Funny thing is I kept using the wrong word for clothes…What’s in that manly military bag? Dresses! (FYI…clothes = ropa, not vestidos). Oops… no wonder they looked at me funny.

Misc. Potholes were sometimes annoying but rarely a real issue, we’ve seen much worse. At one point the road went through an arroyo that had been overtaken with sand. Good thing it hadn’t rained. Major road construction just outside of La Paz continued for several rough, dusty miles but even after two weeks we could see significant progress.

Some things we learned:

Their way of notifying you of roadwork ahead is to set up a few cones. Or not.

We learned that seeing hazard lights from an oncoming car is a very helpful warning of an obstacle ahead and to slow down… not really for speed traps (we saw none, not sure if that’s a thing here) but animals, rocks, road workers or construction.

Stop signs and license plates are optional for all Mexicans, but essential for tourists. Better not do that California roll just in case someone is watching.

Passing is definitely a concern. Everyone uses the left turn signal to indicate it’s safe to pass since this is a 2-lane road most of the way, and there’s no such thing as a temporary passing lane. Are they slowing because they want me to pass or because they are actually turning left? Caution is key. We were passed on a blind hill, we also saw one impatient guy barely miss being crushed by an oncoming car. I am not so sure these aren’t time-obsessed Americans needing to go faster.

Defensive driving in Mexico takes a different skill set than in San Diego with its texting teenagers and road rage. I feel you definitely must scrutinize every car and pedestrian (and cow) in view much more here than in the states, constantly pondering their intentions. People just do stuff you don’t think they are going to: cross the street without looking, backup without looking, run through stop signs. (hmm reminds me of which state again?) The good thing is people are polite and slow about it. We don’t get the finger, we don’t get honked at, and we don’t get wild gesticulations of offense. It’s not Rome. It’s not NYC. But it’s still anxiety-provoking to me.  

So I left all the driving to my helicopter pilot and he performed the task exceptionally well, as usual, but I did make him miserable. A sharp intake of breath here, a flinch there, grabbing the door armrest for impact, a quiet “look out”, “lady in pink on your right“, “you might want to slow down there’s a checkpoint ahead”. In my defense, I don’t know if he sees the small road signs or notices that pink-shirted woman crossing the road from an odd angle or not, therefore it’s in our best interest for me to point these potential catastrophes out …each and every time…just in case. We are in a foreign country, and getting in any accident no matter how minor, is something I don’t want to deal with…period. Brian is happy to be rid of the car, only so he doesn’t have to hear me say “speed bump” one more time.

More on the scenery part of the Road Trip in a few days...

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Vacaciones?

5/3/2015

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Picture
The Malecon in Loreto
Was traveling to San Diego a vacation? Not really. Who needs a vacation to San Diego when you live in vacation-land? OK, I’m sorry… I’m rubbing it in. :) We told the checkpoint boys that we were on vacation only to make it easy for them. We tried getting detailed once about living in La Paz on our boat, having to re-punch visas, blah, blah, blah. They don’t care…so don’t offer any more information than is needed. ”Vacaciones?” “Si. Vacaciones.”

In my last post, I detailed the driving conditions in Mexico since driving was 85% of our journey. But I’ll bet you want to know about the trip itself? It began with a short 5 hr drive to Loreto. Why did we stay there? Well, because everybody recommends Loreto. Plus you shouldn’t drive at night and there aren’t any good options to pick from just 3 hrs farther down the line. It was well worth the extra hours on the back-side.

Friends recommended La Damiana Inn, a small former-house-turned-hotel – think bed and breakfast (without the breakfast). Charming and clean, this quaint Mexican residence boasts a perfect location close to the town square and the water, and the hosts are kind and helpful to boot. So much so we stayed there again on our return trip.

We devoured a yummy Mexican lunch, walked the malecon and visited the harbor, then headed back for a nap. The evening began with craft beers at 1697 Restaurant, and ended with an excellent Uruguayan dinner at Mezzaluna. What a way to start a trip. This IS vacation!

Somebody put A LOT of money into this city of only 12,000 people. With an international airport and multiple direct flights to LA weekly, Loreto is noticeably hopping with expats. It’s surprisingly easier to get here by air than La Paz, a city of 200,000. It has that small-town feel that we love. Tourist-nice but not touristy. No glam, no hype, just laid-back old world charm. Don’t come here if you want nightlife. We could totally live here.

The old mission, founded in 1697, is in the center, fronted by a cobblestone town square, with foodie restaurants galore and neat shops showcasing fantastic Mexican pottery and crafts lining it all. The malecon was expansive and newly constructed (I now judge every city by its sidewalks). A small, shallow panga harbor is the waterfront attraction and people stroll the malecon to watch dozens of fishermen bring in their daily catch.

As the beachfront is exposed to weather, the only way to anchor in front of this city is when the wind is calm. No one stays overnight. Although Loreto is along our upcoming route, the nearest harbor with access to a taxi is some 20 miles away. Not exactly convenient, but we hope to get here again.

Day 2 of our trip was a 9hr drive to Cataviña, with only two stops in Santa Rosalia and Guerrero Negro for gas/bathroom breaks. No ideal lunch places were available at least along the main road, so we kept on truckin’. This was the nail-biting part of the trip (curvy and no shoulders), but also the prettiest with its mountainous, rocky desert terrain. Lots of spectacular waterfront views but no overlooks to stop and take photos, so I tried to take some on the fly. Inland, several dead volcanoes with their old lava trails dot the landscape. Looks like west Texas.

Cataviña is an area uniquely surrounded by several miles of a huge boulder field, the most interesting part of the trip visually. But it is literally in the Middle. Of. Nowhere. The entire town consists of a large hotel, a tiny tienda…. and that’s about it. Gas is only available from a parked pickup sporting jugs of fuel in the bed – that guy is entrepreneurial. Fill up before you get here, as his is the only gas for 200 miles. Hotel Mision Catavina is, funny enough, designed in the shape of a real mission with rooms facing a courtyard and pool. Conveniently located a full days drive from the border, somebody built this self-contained hotel/restaurant in the middle of nowhere, hoping “they will come”. Well, we did. It’s so conveniently located, we booked it on the return trip.

Day 3 was the longest at 11 hours. We drove though more of “west Texas”, then down to the Pacific where we saw everything from sand dunes and wine country to agricultural areas growing pineapple, strawberries and nopale cactus. Miles and miles of greenhouses hid most of the plants from view. It wasn’t until Ensenada where Mexico transformed from a string of dusty agricultural towns to a real city. We ate at Carl’s Jr. (I told you not to judge) and found the toll road leading along the Pacific sporting gorgeous views and no speed bumps… OK except for the toll booths. Finally, a real highway!

Enter Tijuana. Definitely not the scary, rough and tumble place I envisioned, TJ is a real bustling city with real highways and real confusing signage. I had printed directions on how to get to the border crossing, complete with photos of each ridiculous turn. After several roundabouts, turns and backtracks, when we got to the last step to get in the “ready lane” (just show your passport card for quicker access) it was blocked off and we had to find our way around again, adding another half hour. We ended up just following the massive flow of traffic and found ourselves locked in the standard lanes along with the masses. 2 hours total of trying to get into my own country. It was easier to get into Mexico.

The border crossing was the most interesting people-watching. Since we were newbies, I had no idea there would appear, out of nowhere, a “border city” - literally, right on the highway. Within the length of a couple city blocks, 8 or so lanes of traffic move at a snail’s pace while vendors mill about up and down the lane dividers hawking food and souvenirs. I’m not talking a couple guys selling cokes and hot dogs people. Just about any food item is available from what seemed like a hundred vendors. The SUV ahead of us ordered an entire dinner of street food purchasing one round of yummy treats for its four passengers every 20 minutes: iced cappuccinos… street tacos… ice cream cones. A progressive dinner party in the comfort of your own car.

Souvenirs galore are available from hats and t-shirts to traditional Mexican tchotchkes like painted bowls and blankets. But who decides it’s a good idea to buy a full-sized 2’ x 3’ gold-framed painting of The Last Supper while he’s crossing the border? Oh, yes, THAT’s what I should have bought on my trip to Mexico. Oh, and don’t forget the Viagra before you go back to the US. Yup, just flag down that “doctor” dressed in a fake white doctor’s coat. But that’s not even the craziest thing. Hell, we saw puppies for sale! Puppies! They were so cute and I wanted one and Brian was trying to get all rational with me… what if they stop you and ask for its papers? And I was all…but I want one!!!! Yes, THAT’s what I forgot to buy on my trip to Mexico! Sigh...Brian won.

The crossing itself was a breeze. I got all worked up about it and when we finally get to the booth, the guy looks at our passports, tells us to do him a favor and sign them when we get home (oops, these are our new ones), and waves us through. 2 seconds later we are on the highway speeding along at 70mph for the first time in 6 months. Wow. How anti-climactic.

San Diego Trip To Be Continued in Part 3…

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