It's amazing we have been in San Carlos for 25 days already. In that time we have done… well… nothing significant. But we HAVE happily dined our way through Guaymas and San Carlos, finding delicious and cheap eats.

Dinner Anyone?
We originally met new boat friends ‘Cuba Libre’ in Puerto Escondido. They arrived in San Carlos a day after we did, on the heels of hurricane Blanca. For a week and a half they worked to decommission the boat for storage: taking down sails and biminis, defrosting fridges, cleaning, packing, etc. So every evening they went out to dinner, as opposed to cooking amongst the inherent disarray. The first night they invited us along, and it soon became a nightly ritual.

With some people you just click. We’re not exactly social butterflies. So it’s remarkable that we’ve only spoken to this couple a few times and all of a sudden we are spending every dinner with them, and having loads of fun. They get a kick out of hearing Brian’s war stories and we get a kick out of their past lives working for the movie/TV industry and hearing their Mexico stories since they have been doing this cruising thing here for several years. Hilarious people, we are able to jibe back and forth without restraint… generally, it’s like being in a Seinfeld episode.

Food Trippin’
So each day we’d meet them at the end of our dock at 6:30pm, hopping into their car for the nightly dinner outing. Our week-and-a-half of dinners was quite varied and delicious. Cuba Libre knows where the good food deals are and opened our eyes to eateries and food we never would have tried.  

Tacos dorado: dorado is a type of fish, but ‘tacos dorado’ means “golden tacos”. The taco is fried (similar to a taquito but not rolled) with crispy beef and diced potato. Potatoes in a taco? Yeah. Starch + starch…fried. Delish.

Chile rellenos tacos: breaded and fried green poblano pepper filled with cheese…in a taco…yum. I’ve had chili rellenos, just never saw it offered in a taco before now… proving you can put just about anything in a taco and it’s awesome.

Papas Loca: fluffy, baked potato smothered in a rich cream sauce, with corn kernels and carne asada… kind of like a cream of corn soup + chipped beef. Sounds weird, but it’s excellent.  

We also went to a real Chinese restaurant (Chinese in Mexico?): sliced pork, sweet/sour chicken, fresh veges, fried rice, chop suey with crispy bean sprouts and finally, diced jalapenos cooked in soy sauce (a definite Chi/Mex blend)  – I just about choked on those, but I kept eating them, even though my throat was on fire. Good stuff.

Popeye’s
They took us to Popeye’s where we had an excellent hamburger and fries and a coke for like $4.50 per person. Even McDonald’s can’t do it that cheap anymore. The entire restaurant scheme was monikered after Popeye the Sailor Man. Hey, it’s Mexico… copyright infringement? What’s that? Since they have a Brutus burger and an Olive Oil burger, I assumed the ‘Popeye’ Burger was pronounced the same, in English. When I ordered “Dos Popeye’s” (two Popeye hamburger meals), the waitress looked at me and said “Papas?” (papas are potatoes). Me (confused): “No...Popeye’s. Pop..Eyes”.  Her (shaking head): “No…Poh-PAY-yes”. Ahhh.  Of course, it would be pronounced “Poh-PAY-yes.” Silly me. Just because a word is spelled English, doesn’t mean it’s pronounced in English.

I Scream, You Scream…
After each dinner we’d get ice cream at McDonalds or Burger King or Dairy Queen, there’s even a Thrifty with real ice cream (as long as you can get there before they close). Ice cream. Every night. Heaven. Micky D’s has this addicting treat called a McFlurry Kranky. You can find bags of Kranky everywhere in Mexico – Kranky’s are chocolate-coated corn flakes and are particularly awesome in a flurry. We only went to BK once: we were told to leave the drive through and get our order at the door because there were too many cars (we were the only one). Hmmm…I don’t think they understand what “drive-through” means.

Oddities
Driving around downtown Guaymas during our dinner outings always presented us with unexpected oddities. One time, we noticed what appeared to be a dead man on the main sidewalk in the middle of downtown. Sprawled on the pavement, and face-down, was a large man; I assume he was drunk, he didn’t move a muscle. Nobody paid him any attention, not even the Federales. Strange.

Another time, a young man was juggling fire sticks in the middle of the street in front of Walmart, hoping for tips. Right there in the middle of traffic. He’s no different than the street performers in NYC, but really? In front of Walmart? And in traffic? The context is just weird. You’d think he’d perform on the waterfront Malecon or even at the marina for all the tourists. But I suppose it makes sense… Walmart is probably the most popular store in the entire area, and that intersection is hopping.

Another time we noticed a young couple on a motorcycle: he is driving, she’s behind him …cradling a tiny baby, nobody is wearing a helmet. Eh, the baby’s fine…just don’t drop him. They pulled up alongside a motorcycle cop and happily chatted with him. No problem.  Inconceivable in the US; not surprising here.

Pavlov’s Dogs
Eventually though, our friends finished their chores and pulled the boat. Our stimulating nightly dinner runs came to an end. But like a classic Pavlov experiment re-creation, we had become conditioned to that 6:30pm dinner bell. When they left, we’d stand at the end of our dock…waiting…no one came to take us to dinner. We’d stare at each other…Crap, now what? I have to MAKE dinner? Seriously? And shutup…no ice cream? No Kranky? I can’t live with myself. No nightly political/military/movie discussions? So sad. Geez, now we have to talk to each other again...

Crossing to San Carlos. June 3-4
As soon as we made the decision that morning to jump to San Carlos and run from Hurricane Blanca, my anxiety level went sky-high. 24 hours of straight sailing…an overnight….uggh. We hadn’t done any night sailing since going non-stop from Cabo San Lucas to Bahia de los Muertos back in November. Not a fan of night sailing; I was NOT looking forward to it.

Today’s wind was forecast to be 15kts. It wasn’t exactly ideal, mostly because you always tack on another 5kts for prediction error, which would mean potential of 20kts. I worried about possible wave action generated over 80 miles and 24 hours; but if we waited, it would be worse the following day, and worse the day after that.

Like a Box of Chocolates
You see, 15kts of wind in the Sea versus 15kts in Southern California are often two entirely different animals. In SoCal, that is typically ideal sailing weather…a nice, sprightly breeze. Here, upwards of 15 knots is fine for a few hours…but the long, narrow Sea can cause a funnel effect, creating nasty 1-2 second wind waves that grow steeper (and more vomit-inducing) the longer it blows.

Therefore, many people try to time their crossings with less than 10 kts predicted. You may be motoring the entire way…but hey, it’s better than getting your brains bashed out for 24 hours, at least in our humble opinions: mine being the “comfort-first” attitude and Brian’s the “safety-first” approach after 20 years of pilot safety-training.  We are not hearty San Francisco sailors who love going out in 30kt winds just for the sheer “fun” of it. No way Jose.

Forrest Gump equates life to a box of chocolates; it's the same with the Sea of Cortez – you never know what you’re gonna get. I have spoken to people who didn’t time it right or the forecast was wrong, resulting in anywhere from really uncomfortable to frightening crossings.  After having a couple of bad experiences, one boat’s wife never crossed again; if they decide to take the boat from La Paz to the mainland, he drives the boat and she takes a plane or ferry. Food for thought. Traveling all day and all night across the Sea of Cortez can be benign or hellacious - or a bit of both. So for our crossing, and in light of the pending hurricane, we’re trying to play it as safe as possible… probably to a fault.

Anxious First Hour
We shoved off about 10:30am after a nice, big pancake breakfast with fried apples. Who knows what the sea will be like later, so better to have a huge breakfast, snacking light and easy the rest of the day. Heading out of our anchorage into the Bay of Concepcion, already it was blowing 15kts and the bay was getting choppy. Not a good sign, I thought. I didn’t remember that this bay has its own weather patterns, and as soon as we cleared the entrance, the wind died down to nothing. Woohoo! This meant hours and hours of motoring. Brian hates that – but, I'm not gonna lie... it’s fine by me!

On The Road Again
It took a while but my anxiety level diminished and we got into the motoring groove. Salami, cheese and crackers were on the menu for lunch, the perfect boater snack. Brian made a crossing playlist on the ipod and we listened to everything from the conventional Kidd Rock and Aerosmith… to bizarre tunes like CW McCall’s “Wolf Creek Pass”, (to which we know the words of course) and They Might be Giants “Particle Man” (look up the video on YouTube, Jack.)

All day and into the afternoon we had little wind, at least not enough to sail by. But we had plenty of gas since we skipped 3-4 whole weeks of cruising. We read books. We watched the water – it was hypnotic the way Indigo’s boat wake curled and trailed away across the rippled surface. Brian saw a massive swordfish sling himself out of the water like a catapult. I was looking the other way, as usual. Where!? Darn, missed it again. The sea was remarkably calm and you could watch the smooth roll of the south swell coming up from the hurricane.  Not a single boat for as far as the eye can see…totally and utterly alone.

Ping Pong Ball Moon
One fortuitous aspect about the inadvertent timing of our crossing was the full moon; it lasted all night long and didn’t set until after the sun came up. What a relief to bask in its comforting luminescence mid-sea, 30 miles from land in the pitch blackness. (You can’t see the opposite side even in daylight - think width of Lake Michigan). Under this dazzling moon, we could see the horizon all night long - I highly recommend it. It makes a huge difference for my sanity’s sake to be able to at least distinguish up from down.

Sailing the Midnight Special
At dusk, the wind suddenly picked up to 6-9kts – so we sailed. When it increased to 14kts hours later, we reefed and were still sailing at 5.5 kts. We kept watching the anemometer expecting the wind to get worse. But from dusk ‘til dawn, we sailed straight through to San Carlos in anywhere from 9-14kts the entire time. It never rose any higher and we were supremely thankful. We were also lucky that the wind came out of the perfect direction… for once… probably the only time this trip. With a northeast wind, we sailed on a beam reach the entire way, never tacking once. This angle also helped diminish any uncomfortable wind wave chop as we were slicing between waves. Brain-bashing avoided – yippee!

We did not do watches per se; when one person was tired we’d basically cat-nap in the cockpit while the other drove. Much of the time we were both awake. That works fine for one night; if we were out longer, we’d have to get better rest and sleep below for a few hours at a time as we did coming down the Baja coast.

Magically Delicious
Several times that night we were visited by a small pod of dolphins - we think the same pack of 5-10, again and again throughout the night. I first heard the tell-tale ”pwhuh” of one taking a quiet breath next to the boat. “Dolphins!”  I whispered to Brian, as we were usually both awake. (Mystical animal sightings like dolphins and rays somehow demand hushed tones when observing.)

Scrambling like excited kids, we peered over the side in the dark. Several played in the rushing water of Indigo’s bow wake as we sailed along. We even got our own personal SeaWorld performance, complete with jumps and flips, splashing not 10 feet from the boat, their small, dark black bodies glistening in the moonlight.

“Ooooh. Ahhhhh.” Clapping ensued. (Yes, we actually did clap – they deserved it!) Brian asked me if this could be considered a magical night: sailing amidst dolphins under a full moon. I said, “Throw in a leprechaun and some Lucky Charms and it would be magically delicious”.

Easy Peasy
So, fortunately, our first crossing turned out to be easy. Ominous at first, leaving at the behest of a potential hurricane, but smooth calm seas for half and just enough wind to sail the other half. AND a full moon. AND dolphins. When people ask us about the crossing I feel almost guilty about our perfect trip. Two days later the swell got bigger and indeed we are really, really, really glad to have crossed when we did. Prudence wins.

San Carlos at Sunrise
22 hours and 86 miles later, at 8:30am the next day we arrived in our hurricane hole, San Carlos, a small town north of Guaymas on the mainland. A lovely red sun rose over the imposing Tetas de Cabra (yes that means “goat teats” – look at the photo) mountain whose towering double peaks partially surround this little bay. Approaching land, we felt like we were entering some remote, exotic harbor. Sheer cliffs lined the winding harbor entrance. Expensive vacation villas cling to these cliff sides like crabs. We carefully crept into our slip (Brian did a textbook landing by the way) that I had reserved for July 1st, arriving a full month early on June 4th. We checked into the marina, got a quick breakfast and promptly went back to the boat for a long, loooong nap.

Blanca Waves Hello
4 days later on June 8th, Hurricane Blanca turned back into a tropical depression, but still tracked north towards Magdalena Bay, on the outside of the Baja Peninsula. Effects of that early storm traveled across to Bahia Concepcion, where we would have been anchored had we not decided to cross early, and where they reportedly saw upwards of 40-50kt gusts. Sooo happy to miss that.

In the San Carlos/Guaymas area, we had about 30kt winds in the sea, but protected by the mountains the marina saw only up to 25kts – no big deal, safely ensconced in our slip. It was the surf that was spectacular. After we walked over to the beach, I wish I’d brought my video camera - the Sea of Cortez was indeed angry. Cars lined the roadside beach breakwater; it seemed as if the entire town came out to witness the rare and mesmerizing high surf. I looked at the confused, crashing waves, imagining what it would be like anchored or sailing in THAT…MESS… and I high-fived Brian. Whew... dodged that bullet. Let’s go get a Pacifico!

“You can’t always get what you waannt. But if you try sometimes, you just might find, you get what you neeeeeed.” – Rolling Stones

June 2nd, Santispac Cove, Bahia Concepcion

"Do I stay or do I go nowwwww...."
This morning we opted not to linger at San Juanico and made the run up to Bahia Concepcion due to impending hurricane Blanca’s track toward the Baja Peninsula. In case the hurricane forced us to jump to San Carlos, we would be in a good position to do so if we felt we needed to in the next few days. But we still held out hope Blanca would turn west.

Our original 46 mile long course from San Juanico turned into a 55 mile motor. Not due to tacking or current, but because we decided not to stop in our planned spot of Domingo. Our “sail as much as possible” decree went out the window again on day 3 due to no wind the entire day; but we can’t afford to wait for wind. The motor was quite peaceful though… smooth, flat seas but with a current running against us… as usual. I think the current runs at 1 knot against us whether we go north or south and at all times of the day, switching just for us as soon as we want to get somewhere.

Dolphin Super-Pack
During the last portion of our long 10-hour trip, we witnessed hundreds of dolphins stretching about a ¼ mile in a long conga line. We could see the disturbance on the surface from far away and soon realized they were headed right towards us. They didn’t play in our wake, too focused on getting wherever they were headed. But very cool...what a nice way to end a long day! I got one decent video that I added to YouTube.

Bahia Concepcion
We were looking forward to being in Bahia Concepcion, a 21-mile long bay surrounded on 3 sides by massive mountain ranges. Its opening is a mere 3 miles wide, and coupled with very shallow waters, the bay seems to create its own weather patterns. Highway 1 runs right alongside this area and numerous vacation homes, RV campers and palapa (grass thatched roof) homes line the various picturesque coves, just south of the small town of Mulege (moo-lah-hay). We originally planned to spend a couple weeks here, floating around the various anchorages that are all a mile from each other in shallow green waters. With cove names like Playa Coyote and El Burro, not to mention several palapa restaurants to choose from, what’s not to love?

As we entered Concepcion Bay, the wind picked up quickly from nothing to 15 kts and after motoring all day, we were finally able to sail for an hour. We skipped our original anchorage of Domingo as we noticed a long line of buoys in the water and could not distinguish what they meant or how to get around them. We didn’t try very hard though, as we thought the place might be uncomfortable with the wind blowing hard right into the cove. We opted to go another 8 miles to a more enclosed cove rather than have another sleepless, rolly night.

Hair Dryer Wind
We arrived at Playa Santispac and anchored in this quiet cove amongst small islands with only 2 other boats. Music played from a palapa restaurant on the beach and we vowed to sample it tomorrow as nobody felt like going ashore after such a long day. While this beach was lovely and serene, just what the doctor ordered after last night… it was HHHOTTT. As soon as we turned the corner towards this cove, we were inundated with heat, like a hair dryer blowing down off the mountain. For Brian, it evoked the super-heated desert winds during his deployments to Iraq. Today the daytime temperature had been 100 degrees in the bay… and it was now 7pm… so it probably had cooled off to 98ish. Summer is here!

Nibbling Fish? Or Biting Fish?
As we arrived, we passed Epic Ship, a trawler who we’d spoken with a few times in other anchorages. He called us on the VHF radio as we were anchoring, warning us of the hot evening wind at that particular beach (thanks a lot-already sweating) and of the biting fish. What?! Apparently, he had tried to go swimming in the cove and was inundated with fish trying to bite his toes. He used the word “bite”. Not just nibble, BITE. Now, maybe he MEANT nibble…. but those words mean two completely different things. As kids in Michigan we’d go lake-swimming where little fish like walleye and bass “nibbled” at your toes, no blood drawn. Nibble=tickle. Bite=Yikes.

The problem was, Brian had to go in the water the next morning in order to change our propeller zinc. He scoffed at the warning of the biting fish and I’m like “But he said BITE. Remember the blog I read to you about the biting fish in La Cruz? Could be here too…” Yeah, yeah, yeah. So he jumps in the water and gets to work.

I’m up on deck, watching. After a minute I start noticing fish swimming near the boat. 5 to 10, then 10 to 20 of them… moving in to warily inspect what’s entered their territory and then flee away, as if to say “Hey don’t pay any attention to me, I’m not scoping you out for a snack or anything…just cruising on by…”

I didn’t bring up their appearance to Brian yet hoping he would just get it done before they became emboldened. Smallish sized, about 18” or so, they were fast movers and it didn’t take long for their cautiousness to turn into unabashed greed: “I want me some o’ that foot”.

Fins to the Left - Fins to the Right

They came in for the “kill” and surrounded Brian’s lower half, swarming like locusts. I tried my best (no really, I did!) to stick my own feet in the water as a distraction, swirling my toes around the surface, which worked for a few lazy ones, but since his entire body was RIGHT THERE they just couldn’t focus on anything else but that big chunk of beef. They did not bother to go for fingers or knees or any other body part, thank goodness. These were first and foremost, foot-fetish-fish. Darting in towards his feet and backing away, trying not to get flipper-whacked, they were fortunately stymied by his long dive fins and unable to get a chunk. Whew. We happily cannot confirm if they are nibblers or biters.

It helped that Brian was moving about and thrashing his feet a lot as he worked: gasping for air, holding his breath and sinking back down under water to fiddle with removing 3 old screws and reinserting 3 new ones into the tiny holes of the new zinc. The process is complicated further by having to grasp the small allen wrench and 1” screw into slippery hands, hoping he doesn’t donate our precious replacement parts to Neptune, all the while contorting his body and flapping his flippers to maintain some semblance of buoyancy to do the job without hitting his head on the hull on the way up for air for the 10th time. It’s a tedious, exhausting job. And I’m glad he does it.

June 3 Playa Santispac

“You better know when to hold ‘em, know when to fold ‘em, know when to walk away, know when to run…”
Morning weather report: Overnight Hurricane Blanca became a Category 4 off of Manzanillo, and was headed just off the coast near Cabo San Lucas where it would downgrade into a Cat 1 in a couple days and glide up the western Baja Peninsula. What does this mean for us?

Well, it was definitely not a good idea to be anywhere near Cabo, and even La Paz could see hurricane-force winds. Bahia Concepcion is located much farther north, about half-way up on the eastern side of the peninsula. The hurricane is projected to dissipate near Magdalena Bay on the western shore of the peninsula - opposite of where we are now. While there are a lot of mountains in the way, that doesn’t mean we would not get high winds or some sort of severe weather up that far if we stayed.

Our biggest issue was if the hurricane decided to veer to the right instead of the left and we’d be directly in the path if it funneled up the sea. Hurricanes don’t consult NOAA and can be pretty unpredictable. Odile did just that last year and caught lots of folks by surprise. Even if it didn’t, severe swell marching up the sea from the heavy Cat 4 water circulation could make crossing over to San Carlos (our emergency exit plan) at the least, uncomfortable and worst case, dangerous.

Backed into a Corner
As of Wed. morning, June 3rd, the storm was predicted to be off Cabo by Saturday. If we wanted to cross, today was the best day as the next two days would get windier and the swell and wind waves worse. If we chose to stay another day or two to “wait and see”, we may get really uncomfortable weather trying to cross. And if it really was going to hit off the coast near Cabo on Saturday we wanted to be farther away. 

Had the crossing winds to San Carlos been forecasted to be light, we would have stayed another day to see how it played out.  However, today was the best window we could expect.  So, at 9:30am, after a good breakfast and looking at our options, we felt we had just one. Without even stepping foot in Bahia Concepcion, we jumped. Right then we headed straight for San Carlos, an 80 mile, 22 hr, over-night hike northeast and across the sea, well away from the potential of severe weather (we hoped).

Missed Opportunities
The original plan was to spend 2 months messing around the Sea. We were chased through Isla Coronado way early by Andres and the potential of Blanca to be a major player. We again spent only a couple of days in San Juanico instead of a week, knowing Blanca was milling about closer to land and stronger than typical. We completely skipped Pulpito and Chivato knowing Blanca was headed north toward Cabo, yet hoping we might be able to eke out a few days in Concepcion Bay. Now, as soon as we get to the ONE bay that we really had anticipated spending quality time in, we have to act on our emergency plan, essentially skipping an entire month of cruising.  

Healthy Fear of Hurricanes
The one good thing about our fears is that we left way earlier than we wanted after listening to each weather report and by the time we got to our current position were safely prepared to jump. These are not irrational fears like ‘all powerboaters drag’. We had heard first-hand from boaters involved in hurricane Odile last year: stories of lives lost, severe boat damage or total loss, and never underestimate emotional damage due to the terror of the situation.

We talked to one guy who got knocked down 5 times in one night… 5 times. A ‘knock-down’ is when your boat is knocked over 90 degrees by the wind and your mast slams down into the water.  Imagine being tossed like a ragdoll around a boat that has been turned sideways 90 degrees or more within a split second. Cabinets open spilling contents, jars breaking, a heavy bag or even a single wayward screwdriver can become a missile… anything not tied down tumbles around inside the boat like a clothes dryer. Internal tanks split and leak water and diesel and propane; saltwater is everywhere inside. Even if you had time to hold onto something and brace for impact, you risk major injury.  Barring a knock-down, don’t forget the very high possibility of your anchor dragging or just breaking loose and the boat being swept to shore.  After hearing that and other stories, we have a healthy respect for hurricanes and don’t want to be anywhere near one.  

While San Carlos is not completely safe from hurricanes, it has historically been a pretty safe place to hole up.  Being in a slip is much safer than being out at anchor and you have the option to abandon the boat and walk to land in seconds if it got really bad.  

Record-breaking hurricanes
The accurate tracking of hurricanes began in 1971. And it seems as though Blanca is turning out to be quite the witch, already the fourth strongest Northeast Pacific hurricane for so early in the year since recording began. Everybody said June would be a wonderfully benign time to cruise the Sea of Cortez…and then we get record-breaking storms. According to Weather Underground, only six Northeast Pacific major hurricanes have occurred prior to June 5 since 1971, and two of them were this year.  Go figure. The good news is those storms have not affected us, and fortunately did very little damage elsewhere.

One thing we have figured out: plans change. We like planning; we're plan fans. But just because we like our plan, doesn't mean we get to keep it, no matter who tells you otherwise. And we also have to be willing to listen to our survival instincts and change them… fast.

There is an oft-quoted saying that “cruiser’s plans are written in the sand at low tide.”  The point being that the instant plans are made, 12 hours later, things can change.  Other than the broadest of plans, so far NONE have held up.  I never liked that saying anyway… so cliché. Ours are written in quicksand at high tide. How do you even DO that??? Exactly…

May 31st  San Juanico

Our objective was San Juanico, 18 miles north by the rumbline. The day started out lovely: calm seas, light breeze of 2-3 kts; about an hour later it picked up to 4 kts and we started sailing.
At this point in our sailing career we decided if it was blowing a mere 4 kts of wind we would have to sail. Even if we were only moving along at 2 kts/hr… that’s OK. No fuel is available where we are headed, so we needed to be stingy on motoring, saving at least 15 gallons (out of 45) for the crossing.

This is the opposite mentality than the one we had from La Paz to Puerto Escondido, knowing we’d be filling up our diesel tanks in port. We sailed infrequently, only when the winds were right, often taking advantage of the frequent morning calm weather to motor to the next spot. This allowed us to successfully avoid typical afternoon winds and subsequent potential rough seas. Now, we are going to have to sail regardless of the wind direction, wave action….or current, yeah… forgot about that one.

The Tide’s Against Us
All day our sailing hull speed (meaning the speed the boat is running sans all outside forces) was about 3.5-4 kts/hr. Respectable…but the southbound current was at least 1 kt difference... and not in our favor. It never seems to be…rarely do I get to blissfully witness the speed indicator show our speed over ground (or “SOG”) is MORE than what we are really physically sailing. That would be like Christmas, once a year. 

So we crawled north, against the southbound tide/current for hours at 2.5-3kts/hr.  In other words, it takes us an hour to go 3-4 miles.  You could literally walk that fast.

The wind became fluky off Mangles Point and it seemed the current got stronger. We thought the tides would switch around 2pm and start to flow north, helping us instead of pushing against us. But if there was a tidal switch, we didn’t see it; as usual Mother Nature was perpetually against us.

Horizontal Tacking
Horizontal tacking is not a sailing tactic to which one should aspire. I am sure there is a technical term for it… ‘tacking over and over whilst being blown backward resulting in zero sum forward gain’ should suffice as a quickie explanation. Needless to say the great sailors of our time, The Pardees, Webb Chiles, Dave Mancini (yes, I put you in that category), I’m sure do not get themselves in this situation. It’s just embarrassing.

So here we are. About a mile and a half from shore off Punta Mangles. Needing to go directly north but the wind is coming from where…? All together now…”Directly north.” Of course. And it’s NEVER supposed to blow from the north in May…but I digress.

So off this point we’re now sailing slower at about 2.5 SOG. Still tacking into the wind. Now with a 1.5kt current against us. And because the wind is lighter and keeps shifting 30-40 degrees, we can’t point high. (Pointing means sailing as close as you can to the wind without stalling.) The windier it is, the higher we can point (usually up to 30 degrees off the nose), but right now we can only go about 40 degrees. 

It wasn’t until the second tack that we kept staring befuddled at our chartplotter track… our EFFECTIVE angle ended up at about 85 degrees. What??!!  The current pushed all our progress backward, so practically every foot gained north by sailing was lost by current. Yet we gained easterly or westerly motion on each tack. In other words, both failed tacks ended up taking us out a ½ mile or so, but we remained perfectly horizontal to our course, MAYBE up farther north by a few hundred meters each time. Zigzagging back and forth, almost in a straight line, over and over without getting anywhere is a sailor’s idea of purgatory I suppose. Too bad I didn’t take a photo of the chartplotter – but maybe it’s best there’s no evidence.

Fortunately we didn’t do this for long… the wind picked up again and shifted to a better direction. But we got 5 miles out from the anchorage and it again kept dying. Maddening. We just couldn’t take it anymore.  Plus it was late afternoon and we don’t like anchoring at dusk since you can’t see reefs as well…so we gave up and turned the motor on to get there faster.  Our “new decree” of sailing as much as possible? Yep, out the window on day 1.

Eight hours and 26 miles later (to go a mere 18 miles mind you), with 8 extra miles due to tacking, we arrived just as the sun was setting behind the mountains.

Close Anchor Deterrence Tactics
Remember my blog a while back that included potential tactics one might use to deter boats from anchoring too close? Well, as we were poking around to determine where we wanted to anchor, an older guy on a nearby boat jumped in the water for a swim…sans trunks… and waves hello as we pass close by. Hmmm….was he trying to tell us something? If so, good tactic. Or are we just far enough away from civilization now that folks just don’t care anymore? Either way, it worked.

After our usual hour-long parade around the anchorage which held 5 other boats, we found a spot closer to the cliff. We jumped into the 84 degree, 12-ft deep water and it felt awesome  – like bathwater. Although we had zero visibility, and it was quite choppy and mixed up from the wind waves and colored a dull green, there were no floaties/jellies to bump into.

That evening I made chilorio and refried beans, had added some onion, ½ serrano pepper, a half can of pinto beans and topped with cheese for dipping totopos (chips). Easy and good. Had the last of the cake… so sad to see it go... still moist after all these days. Watched Arrow.

June 1st San Juanico

Blanca Begins
We got up this morning and listened to the net for weather. We learned Hurricane Andreas was still veering off and Tropical Depression #2 would now be called Hurricane Blanca. It is sitting outside of Manzanillo, stationary, and they think it will go up toward the Baja but veer away outside of it about 150 miles off the coast. So while we are still watching it, we decided to stay here one more day. Yay, we get to explore.

The Cruiser’s Shrine
We got in the yak and paddled around what I called “cake” island. I think it looks like a birthday cake, at least one that “fell” as it’s a bit lopsided. High and straight on all sides, “cake island” is crowned in tall, cactus birthday candles. We cruised along a long sweeping sandstone formation jutting out of the land, alongside of which is a nice beach with hard-packed sand and lots of rocks and shells along the shoreline.

One of the trees along this beach is a “cruiser’s shrine” where people leave little mementos with their boat name and the year they arrived. The earliest boat arrival date I noticed was 1987. Shells and beads and various trinkets adorn the tree like ornaments, engraved rocks and carved wood pieces lie underneath, as does a painted cow skull, a wine bottle, a worn pair of shorts, someone’s underwear, etc. Whatever odd or end one can spare or scavenge.

We walked the full length of the beach picking up cool rocks and shells. Ok I picked them up, but even Brian found his own “shell”: a short piece aluminum tubing which he kept, just in case. (Shells are not practical; tubing is.) It was really hot that day. Parched, we had to go back to the yak for water. By this time the swell and wind waves were getting a little worse so we high-tailed it back to the boat for PB&J sands. Then we made water; we did not wash clothes or anything else for that matter, afraid of attracting our bee friends.

Salty Dogs
Afterwards, we got in the pool for a dip, expecting to go in later for another and therefore did not rinse. Instead we “air-dried”. This did not work well. I felt sticky and gross the entire time. My skin and hair never quite dried all the way; my hair matted and I’m unable to comb it - I may as well have been in dreadlocks for a month; and salt crystals continually fall off my skin like I’m shedding.

THIS is why I wanted a watermaker. I would NOT like to feel this way all the time, living by day in ram-rod stiff, salt-caked clothing that could stand up by themselves.  Then transferring my daily salt intake to my bedding at night, trying to sleep in sweaty, salt-glazed sheets, with my face scraping a damp, salt-encrusted pillowcase, waking up itchy, my hair still wet the following morning. I don’t know how Steinbeck did it… but he did, and tons of people still do… kudos to them, but I don’t have it in me. Period.

At 4pm, Brian downloaded the weatherfax while I boiled eggs and potatoes for potato salad. We reviewed the forecast again, same story: the tropical depression was indeed a real named hurricane, Blanca, and was as stated earlier, stationed over in the same spot near Manzanillo with no real track yet.

I made a shell for the cruiser’s shrine that we planned on dinghying over to the beach later. I had found a small, bleached white shell with a hole in the top and one out the side, perfect for stringing a bit of wire to create an ornament. I guess it was meant for us.

Tea anyone?
After all our work was done, we yakked over to visit with the Mary T, who had earlier rowed over to invite us to tea. Somehow I just knew these were old salts of the sea when Sigmund came by on his dinghy. I told Brian this guy was like meeting Stan Lee, or Steinbeck, and he probably knew Nigel Calder or even Bill Crealock. Sure enough, they knew the Pardees (same thing) and are even mentioned in their storm tactics book due to a bad storm they’d survived in the Pacific. Very nice people, been around the world cruising for I think 30 years; Fiji, New Zealand, Singapore, Oman, Spain, you name it, they’ve done it.

Swell Shift
We chatted on their boat until about 8pm - the sun had gone down past the mountain but it was still light out. Suddenly, Brian noticed our boat was riding sideways to the swell which had grown over the past few hours. It was rolling like a top in the now surf that pounded the cliff base just a few hundred feet away. Sitting on their boat we were jumping up and down with the increasing waves, but we hadn’t really paid attention too much since we’d been talking. Now we’re worried.

We have to move Indigo. Within 2 minutes we’d said our good-byes and were in the yak paddling in the now semi-hazardous conditions - definitely waves we would not go out in had we already been on our own boat. The swell pushed us back quickly and right towards Indigo, but the wave action made it difficult to grab onto our bucking-bronco boat; we almost missed it and slipped past.

We were in 12 ft of water and rolling side to side at what felt like a 30 degree angle each time, beam onto each increasing wave. Our anchor is not dragging, but it is not good to be in this situation up against a cliff. The Mary T was a bit farther out in 18ft and riding right into the waves at a much better angle, but still bucking furiously.  At the very least we had to get into deeper water, maybe move altogether.

Anchors Away
Pulling the anchor up was a harried event. We immediately started the engine. With me at the wheel and Brian at the bow fiddling with the anchor, I saw him slip and fall at least 4 times on the slick and lurching deck. One time he fell hard, splaying out flat on the deck, disappearing from my sight for a split second…his shoe had caught a line and it flipped off overboard. Then he tried to snare it with the boat hook without success. He called me to try and grab it; luckily it floated right by the rear of the boat and I leaned overboard and caught the darn thing. (Apparently, losing that shoe would have equaled major disaster.) Fortunately for us, Brian did not hurt himself, and everything was fine thereafter.

Brian got the anchor up in record time, despite the pitching deck, numerous falls and the shoe incident, and we started motoring into the waves. In deeper water and farther along the shoreline it was not much better, so we kept on going to the opposite south anchorage about a mile away. Luckily we had just enough light to get there…plus there was a full moon. That full moon over the fading sunlit sky was fleetingly beautiful as we were driving over there and I could see rays sticking their fingers out of the water as we went along. But I didn’t point any of this out. We were MUCH too anxious and tense, needing to concentrate on the task at hand, rather than gazing dreamily at the wildlife and the moon.

Reef!
This bay is littered with rocks and reefs. Our chartplotter did not show the long, narrow, submerged reef that extended out way past the point towards which we were headed. Had we not possessed backup charts on the ipad, we could have easily slammed the boat into this reef. Knowing it was there, I could just make out a dark line in the dimming light and note change in water motion due to the major swell swirling over it. Had the rocks been fully submerged we would not have seen them at all. As it was, after anchoring, the GPS says we are .06 miles from them (that’s about 316ft – IF the GPS was dead on accurate). Pretty darn close, too close… and so Brian sleeps in the cockpit.

When we arrived around 9pm, the swell seemed a bit diminished over on this side. We were still rocking, but we were moving around our anchor in the fluky winds and not exactly beam on… yet. We even took showers in the moonlight, finally getting the salt off since we never made that 2nd pool dip. Lesson learned.

A Swell Time
But soon it got worse… it felt almost the same as when we left the north anchorage. We had faced into the swell once we arrived, seemingly sheltered by the lee of this reef finger. But now the wind shifted again and we were full beam onto the waves, rocking side to side. We were tipping so far over I had to take down the bathroom door pockets (one of those hanging over-the-door-shoe pocket organizers) as it was banging against the door every 3 seconds, something I never have to do at anchor, only if we are on a severe tack while sailing.

We never had time for dinner. I instantly abandoned my original idea of making potato salad and cooking kielbasa; there’s no way I’m chopping veges or using the stove in this crazy yawing motion. Our 10pm meal? “Corn pops! It’s what’s for dinner.” I’m just glad I could stand up to pour the milk.

The sky was gorgeous … but our attempt to sit and contemplate it while munching on our corn pops was negated by the constant, uncomfortable rocking motion. The swell was slightly longer at 2-3 seconds each angle but super annoying…worse than Agua Verde since we were yawing and not pitching. Definitely the worst we’d had this trip. This was going to be a long night.

Fortunately there was no wind… which means our anchor chain was not stretched out and we didn’t have to worry too much about hitting the reef. But unfortunately, there was no wind… which means we were rocking with the swell until it increased and swung us around, or until the swell died. Wind or no wind… you want it, yet you don’t want it…all at the same time. And you are infinitely at its mercy.

We both opted to sleep out in the cockpit, worried about the reef that we could barely see and had no idea as to its width. But I could not seem to sleep with the boat rocking so darned much. Below decks was worse: I felt hot as soon as I stepped down inside and sick enclosed in the stuffy bathroom. Resting in the cockpit was cool and refreshing, plus you didn’t feel the movement quite so acutely.

Ever so gradually, it calmed down. The wind waves were virtually gone and the sea was a smooth swell, still disconcerting and super rolly, but smooth. The wind shifted 360 and kept the boat moving around its anchor all night. (In the morning the anchorwatch looked like a neat little circle.)

Rorschach Sky
While Brian slept, I watched the sky. The moon cast its silvery reflection on the rolling sea and if it weren’t so nerve-racking to be in this scene, it would have been a breathtaking one to behold. High vertical cliffs and peaked spires and the outstretched low-lying reef lined the shore blocking much of the surf. But you could still hear it breaking farther down on the sand with a dull, ominous roar that sounds a lot worse than it really is. I kept thinking it was getting louder, but your mind tricks you into thinking so when concentrating too hard.

Translucent clouds slithered past the stark white moon, like big puffs of factory smoke. Happy clouds normally, they now were filled with my anxiety of being bullied by the swell and turned into ominous creatures. The night sky became jam-packed with evil monkeys, Pac-Man ghosts, a skull with deep dark eye sockets glaring at me, Homer Simpson’s craggily old dad. I actually laughed at myself as I realized I could not stop seeing weird shapes. Seriously? Grampa Simpson? What would those Rorschach inkblot psychologists think of me?

Every so often, I heard the snap, crackle, pop of rays dancing again on the surface. I eventually became accustomed to the constant swish and foaming of swell breaking on the reef just 300ft to our starboard, and the surf crashing on the beach to our port. Finally, it calmed down enough that I went back to bed in the v-berth. (Brian surrendered a bit later, knowing we weren’t going anywhere.) I sleep better in the v-berth where it’s dark and quiet… why? ‘Cause I’m Batman.

June 2nd, San Juanico, south anchorage

On the Heels of a Hurricane
This morning, Tuesday, June 2nd, the hurricane forecast for Blanca noted she was stationary, only traveling at 1 mile an hour, but getting stronger. It is now predicted to turn into a Category 4, gliding right along the Baja coast on the outside later this week, rather than the initial path of 150 miles offshore. No Bueno. If that happens, we needed to be ready to make our emergency jump to San Carlos. We leave now.

We made the decision to skip our next stop, Punta Pulpito, only 8 miles away and motor all the way to Domingo in Bahia Concepcion, 46 miles north (there are no other anchorages in between). This will be our longest trek so far in one day on this trip. And so much for saving on gas (decree out the window again on day 2), but we will need to get there before dark. The weather in the sea is supposed to get much windier over the next two days so we decided to get up to Bahia Concepcion while the gettin’s good.

San Juanico had the best beach of the trip for its sheer variety: hard-packed fine sand, coarse sand with bits of shell, tons of unique larger shells and rocks, a sandstone spit, high majestic cliffs, islands and reefs, tall spires straight out of a Lord of the Rings movie, beautiful water, not a soul around for miles and only a handful of boats... everything to entice you to stay for 2 weeks. Sigh. No such luck. I never did get to hang my ornament….

May 29th Isla Coronado
There’s a hurricane a comin’. As of yesterday, we were not sure if we would go to Coronado or continue on north a bit earlier than planned, just to get a bit higher in latitude. We were following a low – turned tropical depression, developing down near Manzanillo and this morning it became a hurricane.  Andres was traveling north but arcing to the west out away from shore. Feeling a bit safer, we are stopping at Isla Coronado, as planned, instead of moving farther north.

The north bay of Coronado is a lovely, wide spot suitable for holding many boats; we had 12 others in here with room for 3x that many. We kayaked to shore and walked a bit on the beach but the sand was so deep and fluffy that strolling the shoreline wasn’t easy; your feet sunk in and slid down the 45% incline at each step. Rocks line the shore nearby but those proved to be littered with some sort of cockroach-like sea bug that skittered in the thousands amongst the small volcanic reef rocks – no way am I hopping and skipping along rocks with those crawling around. A small palapa sits on the beach where the panga guys bring tourists for an afternoon of lunch and swimming.

This island is a dead volcano, so the land is littered with interesting volcanic rock. A 4-hr hike will take you to the top of the volcano. But we’d heard about difficult footing with sliding rocks near the top and Brian didn’t want to go hiking for 4 hours. I know…lame. :)  Sandy, manicured trails using volcanic rocks as path outlines, meander around the lowlands.

That evening, the sun set across the channel behind the Sierra La Gigantas and the whole scene was like a textbook painting you'd find in a Holiday Inn hotel room. Mountains highlighted in gradient shades of dark gunmetal greys, indigo blues and purple mountain majesty, each lower and closer mountain range darker than the one behind. The misty sunset lined in sherbet orange and watery rose fading gradually into linen cream and then soft baby blue. No clouds, nothing that spectacular… but it was simple and elegant. Heck, maybe even I could paint it… with the help of Bob Ross, painting guru, minus the happy clouds.

Jumping rays!
At dusk, we witness the most spectacular phenomenon. Mobular rays traveled amongst all the boats in packs from 5 – 20, moving as one dark shape under the calm surface like an amoeba. When the light was just right you could track their shadowy form underwater. Telltale circular ripples led our eyes to little wingtips and swishing tails disturbing the surface.

Then, suddenly… CRACK! The sound of a gunshot started the whole thing… and they would start jumping. Not just one, but ALL of them… slap, crash, smack, crack. It’s like one would start and they’d all get in on the action, one after another in succession, like they were trying to outdo each other. Whoever does the best belly flop wins the prize ceviche, or whatever rays eat! Once, their fireworks performance lasted so long they created their own widening circular wake, and our boat started bouncing from the disturbance in the still bay.

This didn’t just happen once, or twice, but on and off, ALL NIGHT LONG. We could hear them splashing right near the boat once in the middle of the night and got up to watch, but it was too dark.  Just when I was complaining about nature… this is just too cool. Brian was irritated at not getting much sleep. But I’m not sure we will ever see this again in such numbers. The onesie/twosie’s splashing about is normal, but huge packs flapping away, hour after hour, all night… I have a feeling what we witnessed was pretty special.

Why this was not as annoying as the hull-slapping fishes or the rat-a-tatting fishes is beyond me. Mobular rays, like pufferfish, seem puppy-dog-like. Stingrays glide on the bottom, and settle in the sand. Glide and settle; instinctive movement. I suppose mobular rays seem to put thought into it… like watching dolphins or whales. Their wings gracefully undulate, allowing them to fly through the water like birds. Whether floating at the surface with just their wingtips protruding… or leaping and flapping their little wings, trying their hardest to fly away… then belly-smacking like little kids… they are just fascinating to watch, and it never gets old. You get the sense they are just happy little creatures. If I can’t have a dog as a pet…hmmm… mobular ray?

May 30 Isla Coronado Day 2
Last year, on this date, I quit my job. Wow. How time flies when you're having fun. Do I miss it? NO.

Hurricane watch
Listening to the weather this morning, Geary the weather guru determined hurricane Andres was indeed moving off to the west. However, another low is developing just below it off Manzanillo. Geary is predicting early on it will turn into a hurricane as well and hit Cabo a little over a week from now. Not good. But this gives us time to evaluate…we will look at the weatherfax at 4pm today and see what it looks like. Either way we are leaving for San Juanico tomorrow in order to get further north. Just in case.

I would have liked to stay here another two days (and goad Brian into the volcano hike) but things keep changing. At least we got to see the island - we almost skipped it due to Andres. If the hurricane does track up this way, we have enough time to get to San Juanico tomorrow (Sunday), Pulpito on Monday, Domingo on Tues and possibly Punta Chivato on Wednesday. If they say it’s going to hit Cabo the following Monday we will be in a good position to jump on Thursday or Friday and make it to San Carlos the following day, 2 days before it hits Cabo.

Yak to the Beach
Today we did some boat work and then took a long break, kayaking a half mile away to the east beach.  This side is an exquisite walking beach, with harder packed sand, bright aquamarine water, black lava rock and whitewashed coral and miniature shells.  This long sandy strand is really a half mile long sandspit/natural breakwater, stretching out like a boat hook and cocooning the shallow water in its lee. Perfect for hours-long beach-combing. Later the wind picked up and we headed back to the boat in choppy 1/2ft waves at 1 second. The kayak took it well, bouncing away happily. Brian was not so happy, soaked by my paddle strokes skipping off the wavelets and splashing him every few seconds. :)

Dinner: pasta salad with tuna, cheddar cheese, cabbage, ½ apple, last of the green onion. Showers. More cake. More Alias. Typing. Then bed. Exhausted. Right now, after having 10kts of wind all day from the north it is quiet and still... no flopping rays... no wind. Like a switch had turned off. Speaking of switches, the summer heat switch has been turned ON. Since we got here to Coronado it has been HOT. And muggy. Mid 90’s and water is now 84! Holy hotness Batman!

I put up a video on YouTube of the jumping rays. Too bad they did not jump closer to the boat and I don’t have zoom on the GoPro. The two portions that are zoomed in are artificially done in the editing process and are therefore pixelated. But at least you can get an idea of what we witnessed, and how special it was, even if it’s a little blurry…  Jumping Ray Video

May 27th

Brian’s Birthday
This morning, while waiting for the wind to pick up, I made Brian canned corned beef hash and eggs for his birthday breakfast. How this can be his favorite breakfast, one can only wonder...

Once we got under way, our sail was nothing short of frustrating.  5-6 kts of wind from the NE in the beginning gave us a good sail at 4-5kts/hr. But it’s in the wrong direction… we had to tack way off our course. Then the wind died…then it came up again…then died to 2-3 kts. Why don’t we get out the code zero? That’s what it was made for right? Immediately, I mean not 30 seconds after Brian did all the work to haul the sail on deck, get it out of the bag, hook it up, and run all the lines… the wind picked up to 8 kts and increasing. What? Mad at his wasted efforts, Brian took it back down, the code zero too light for winds over 8.

We sailed nicely for a while with the 8 kts. Then it died, again. Then it came up, flipped 180 degree within 30 seconds to the SW…still in the wrong direction for our current angle. Then it died again… then it came back up to the NE, even stronger; we were flying at 6 kts/hr. We’ll get there in an hour! Sweet! Arrgggg... as we got 2 miles from the cove the wind died yet again. So, instead of bobbing around like a toy ship, we gave up and started motoring. By the time we got settled into the anchorage it was 4pm. We left at 9:30ish. 6 hours to go 11 miles...not exactly a birthday treat. This sailing thing is aggravating.

BEE-utiful Ballandra Bay
As soon as we set the hook, bees surrounded us and invaded the cockpit. We decided not to go swimming as we didn’t want our required fresh water rinse to attract them. Plans foiled once again. Such a beautiful bay; if only I could see it. I sit here below decks, looking at the bay out the window, waiting for twilight so the bees will go back to their bee homes and sleep.

Dinner: packaged chicken fried rice with a can of chicken and some green onion, cilantro, peanut butter, rice vinegar, topped with peanuts. More birthday cake…good thing I made it yesterday!

May 28th Bee-llandra Day 2.
Today we explored the bay via yak and paddled into a small creek. It felt like we entered a miniature Jurassic Park ride. About as wide as the yak is long (10ft), the tranquil, murky creek was lined by a rocky hill and scrub trees. Near where the creek petered out, it turned into hard-packed gravel and clear water. We tied the yak to a tree root and walked a few hundred yards, but there wasn’t much to look at, just more scrub trees. Plus we had been advised not to go hiking on the island since there might be people hunting for bighorn sheep. So we didn’t.

Today we made water. We don’t need the water, but we DO need to run the watermaker every 4-5 days, regardless of whether we feel like it or not. And regardless of bees. This is a downside to having a watermaker, you become somewhat of a slave to it, having to run it at inopportune times. What are you gonna do? I need my showers.

While the watermaker ran, I started washing clothes which I hadn’t done in 2 weeks. My lifelines, now littered on both sides with wet clothes, gradually became inundated by bees. These bees here are alcoholics…and we are their enablers. As soon as any freshwater appears on deck, they slowly came out of the woodwork. “Heeeyyy, buddy, what you got there??? Can I have me some of that?”
They got pretty fat and happy sucking freshwater off my clothes drying in the sun.

Fortunately, these bees were of the lazy variety. They didn’t get agitated unless I swatted at them, so we just let them bee…. walking slowly nearby when necessary. We hid below when I was finished while the bees took over for a couple hours.

Later, we went swimming for a bit but, again, as we got closer to shore we kept hitting the little jellyfish. So we swam back to the boat and took a shower… and of course the bees helped. Cold macaroni salad for dinner.

That night was amazingly still….not a ripple could be seen.  At about 3am I felt the boat start moving up and down slightly…we were getting some chop, then the breeze kicked up.  I went out on deck to see which way we were pointing and how fast the wind really was. Eh… only 8-10kts – sometimes it feels like more after suddenly increasing, having been so quiet for hours. Up on deck, I was stunned at the breathtaking night sky…so many stars. I could see the Milky Way, streaming across the galaxy like spilled milk.  Venus and Jupiter glittered intensely, lining up with a luminous 1/2 moon. Just as I turned to go below, a shooting star winked out the corner of my eye. I blinked and it was gone.

May 25th  -  Honeymoon Cove
As we were heading out of the Puerto Escondido entrance, we noticed that Honeymoon Cove South, 1 mile south of the original cove we had unsuccessfully tried to squeeze our way into a week ago, was empty. Score! The south cove had been occupied a week ago so we never bothered to scope it.  Our intention had been to travel up to Ballandra on Isla Carmen today... we immediately veered off course.

Gliding towards the entrance, we began to see bottom at 40ft, it was that clear. With the place all to ourselves, we anchored in 10ft of water and could not help but be distracted by its utter sparkling clarity. Even Brian was so immediately blown away with the view he had me come up on the bow, while anchoring, to watch the fish and marvel at how you could see the anchor set from 50ft away. We stared at the flat clear water in amazement, tons of pufferfish floated and darted along the surface and small stingrays skimmed the bottom. It literally looked like a pool: aquamarine water wrinkled in sunlight.

A mile of yakking
The wind started to pick up and ended the pool-like clarity with wavelets forming. So we got in the kayak and paddled 1 entire mile, against the wind, to the north bay, the original Honeymoon Cove where we’d tried to anchor before. It seemed to take forever but in reality was probably about 45 minutes. Worth it! We slid up into the beautiful, sandy cove, hiked up on the rocks and took some gorgeous photos of the bay from above and of our boat one mile in the distance.

But our reverie couldn’t last long. We were there a mere 30 minutes. Then Brian kept looking at the boat, nervous. The wind had swung Indigo so she looked closer to the rocks; A LOT closer. It sure looked like she was dragging... had we left too soon? The anchor was set upon leaving but when the wind swings opposite the anchor has to reset itself… you hope. But we’ve been here long enough now to know we are waaaay too far away to tell this for sure, things have a tendency to appear much different from far afield or at a different angle. Still... it just looked close, so we hiked about another 15 minutes and then went straight back, fast, against the wind again. Of course when we arrived home Indigo HAD swung opposite, but nowhere near the rocks. Not. Even. Close. Distance distorts. Distorting distance can drive one to drinking.

Jellies
Before lunch, we wanted to quickly snorkel over to the west reef tip where we saw lots of fish as we entered the cove. But as soon as we got in the water, things kept bumping into us.  We felt these little transparent objects, like the size and hit strength of a plastic bead bobbing around, whacking us as we swam. Jellyfish! I could not see them, but I could feel them. They didn’t sting, yet, maybe they were too small? But the closer we got to the reef the more we ran into. Bam… bam… bambambam. They were everywhere. Disconcerting.

So we abandoned the snorkeling idea and swam back to the boat. We did see a large ray on the bottom, probably 3-4ft across. We followed it… and it noticed… and went faster… and I followed some more to try and get a photo… and it went even faster, whipping around on the bottom… so we stopped. No need to agitate the thing to come after me.

Clearwater reveal
Back on the boat, the sun was at just the proper angle to illuminate the water surface. We could finally identify what creatures we’d been running into. The jellyfish were about the size of a 1/2 dollar, and absolutely transparent unless lit perfectly by the sun. Also showing up in the sun-dappled waters were these round dots, the size of a pomegranate seed, and iridescent blue. They permeated the waters seemingly every few feet, skimming the surface and hovering at all depths, like floating stars. Brian thinks these are some type of water bug. On top of that, string-of-pearl jelly fish glided on the surface like little hairs, everywhere.

After that insight, I did NOT feel the need to go back in the water. It seems each bay has its variation of sea creature population. But I think I need me one of those full-length, lycra snorkeling suits and a swim cap with the amount of critters milling about in these warmer 84-degree waters.

We watched instead from above, hanging over Indigo’s rail like little kids in our own personal aquarium. Fish darted back and forth, nibbling on the anchor chain as it shifted along the bottom and stirred up goodies underneath. I loved watching the pufferfish. Usually seen skimming the bottom, here a rogue agent or two would paddle around on the surface, spinning its mini flippers and propelling itself back and forth 180 degrees, again and again. They seem like little distracted puppydogs. OK spiny puppies. Ones you would not want to cuddle. Still cute.

That evening was perfection. The wind died to nothing and we were able to sleep soundly all night = happy campers. In the morning, I made chocolate chip pancakes since our distance to travel that day was to be only 10 miles. We sat again drinking coffee and marveled at our luck of finding such a perfect anchorage with such perfect water. I keep saying perfect… because it was just that. Other than not great snorkeling due to creepy water creatures, this was the purest water we’d observed thus far. Honeymoon Cove is aptly named.

May 26th  Bahia Marquer - Isla Carmen

Birthday Cake
Since there’s no more getting fuel from here on out, conservation is key. This means we must sail now, more often than not, even if we don’t want to. Today it took about 3 hours to go 10 miles to Bahia Marquer on Isla Carmen…decent sailing most of the way. When we arrived at the anchorage, we just didn’t feel like going ashore. Too tired. Plus, it got pretty windy out so we didn’t want to get in the kayak. Instead, I made a chocolate cake (Duncan Hines mix) with homemade frosting for Brian’s birthday. It wasn’t ‘til tomorrow, but I didn’t know if I’d have time tomorrow... Gotta make hay.

Dolphins
During the 2-hour cake-baking extravaganza, dolphins came to play in our bay. They hung out about a boats length away from us for a while, left and came back several times, swimming amongst us and the 5 other boats. We relaxed in the cockpit, watching the dolphins cruise around and reading books and generally had a very nice quiet evening. For dinner I made jambalaya: onion, green pepper, box of tomatoes (yes you can get canned tomatoes and other canned veges in tetra-pak boxes down here), minute rice, green onion, 1/3 of a kielbasa, ½ can pinto beans, bayou blast. Awesome. Then we had cake. And watched Alias.

Palmetto attack
As I was getting ready for bed, standing in the bathroom, something hit me on the back shoulder and I flicked it off thinking it was a strand of hair but knowing deep down it was too forceful to be just a hair. I heard something hit the wall (hair doesn’t make noise) and then saw it on the towel handle and started yelling. It was a huge cockroach! Brian said it was a palmetto bug… whatever; it was huge, as big as my thumb. I freaked out. Wide-eyed and trapped in the tiny bathroom, I kept aacckkking and pointing, paralyzed. Brian came rushing in, recognizing my typical bug behavior pattern. I threw toilet paper at him and he was able to kill it without it disappearing down under the floorboards. My hero.

Funny enough, NOT… the same exact situation happened the following night. Getting ready for bed, in the bathroom, this time one hit Brian. (Let’s just be honest and say I’m glad it wasn’t me again.) All I heard behind the door was a lot of flailing around as he whacked doors, walls and floors, hurling a lot of expletives at something I hoped wasn’t me. He came rushing out and we could not get to that second one in time before he disappeared. He must be on those Lance Armstrong steroids, just too fast…We tore the boat apart; but we never did find it. Oh, how I LOVE living in nature….  Oy.

Honeymoon Wave-Off
After Candeleros our goal was Honeymoon Cove on Isla Danzante, only about 7 miles away. The photos in the guidebook looked so spectacular I just had to go there. Only big enough for one mid-sized boat according to the guidebook, this cove via binoculars, was NOT occupied. What a coup! I was excited to grab this primo spot all for ourselves.

As we edged in closer it looked just as it had in the photos, beautiful crystal clear water, so inviting… we picked our way slowly, slowly, getting more and more closer to rocks…we got inside the rock-walled cove and immediately Brian yelled at me to back up. He didn’t like it, too close to the rocks, too many underwater rocks along the sides, just too tight, wind blowing from the wrong direction pushing us toward land instead of out to sea…my perfect Honeymoon anchorage, not gonna happen.

Sigh. I was disappointed. Visibly. Brian said I was mad. I was not mad - I agreed it was too tight. But I was irritated at the guidebook saying this was big enough for one boat when it wasn’t. I was irritated because every “single” anchorage we had tried to get into was filled to capacity with that one lucky anchorage-hogging boat, and this one was miraculously empty, the Valhalla of anchorages, and I can’t stay here. Maddening. My father-in-law says I only show pictures of me when I am smiling on the blog. Well, imagine me with grumpy-face all morning. I didn’t take a picture; it’s not pretty. Brian says, of all the things I could be disappointed about, it’s nice that that’s all it is, not being able to anchor in a cool spot. Of COURSE he has to put it all in perspective.

I gunned it and start motoring over to Puerto Escondido. Brian says, “Why don’t we sail”. I say no. He says “Why not? You’re just mad”. No, because it’s only 3 miles across the channel to the port and not worth it; we already have the sails put away; we are getting fuel here so there’s no need to conserve. We have never been here before and don’t know where we are going, it’s already noon, we have to travel at least another hour, then pick a mooring.  I still have to get my scanner and printer out to do paperwork (this is a 1 to 2-hr production since everything is packed away - once I get it all out for just one copy I need to use it for all it’s worth). Then we have to get the dinghy out, blow it up, hope the motor works, motor to the dock and hope the marina is still open to check in. “Oh.” Yeah, I’m just putting it ALL into perspective. No Honeymoon; no sailing.

May 19 Puerto Escondido Mooring Balls
We drove into Puerto Escondido (Hidden Port), unique due to its huge, yet virtually land-locked bay, accessed only through a small 200ft wide, 9ft deep channel.  There are a few slips here but no one can afford them at $2/ft/day =  $70 per day for us - ridiculous.  

We picked up a mooring for about $10 per day for our 34ft boat, well worth the fee for a good sleep. For our family who doesn’t know what a ‘mooring’ is, it is simply a chain tied to a large concrete block (heavy engine blocks are sometime used) at the bottom of the 50ft deep bay with a buoy that keeps the top portion of thick rope afloat. You simply grab and wrap the buoy line onto the boat cleat at the bow and the concrete block essentially becomes your anchor. Smaller, popular bays have moorings in order to pack more boats into the area.

These moorings were the best we’d come across - amazingly spaced a good length apart, and no stern-ties. Yay! Essentially mistake-proof. So you don’t have to worry about the wind pushing you into your next-door neighbor a mere 10 ft away like in Catalina… nor all the neighbors hearing you utter expletives as your wife overshoots the ball… or fails to pick up the stern line fast enough as you swing wide and side-swipe your neighbor’s dinghy (no, I haven’t done that, OK close). Those types have bow and stern buoys which require better timing and aim. Some even have bow and stern separately which require backing up or dinghying out to get the stern one tied, something we did once and never wish to repeat. Moorings can incite a special trepidation in our hearts… unacknowledged, never discussed, like He Who Has No Name, a disaster waiting to happen; but this time, we looked like pros.

Once you manage to tie up, not having to worry about your anchor dragging is nice. But moorings can and do drag in higher wind or surge. And often unmaintained by their apathetic government agency owners, lines or chain can break or rust away. We have friends who weathered hurricane Odile here in this very port. Several moorings broke and those boats went flying through the anchorage missing our friend’s boat by inches. So we still keep our anchorwatch on even when attached to a mooring. The good news is we have first-hand info that all the moorings here have been replaced with heavy chain, according to one cruiser who saw them being installed after Odile. Knowing we are on a new mooring is a sleep-inducing god-send.

Fancy dining
After checking into the office, we promptly walked next door to the only restaurant in the tiny marina: a high-class, white linen, frou-frou restaurant called “Porto Bello” where we paid approximately the same price for dinner as we had for 5 nights mooring. $50 is nothing for a dinner in the states, but this was the 2nd most expensive restaurant we had eaten at since we arrived in Mexico. You have to TRY to eat that expensively here.

We felt out of place in our boater clothing, flip flops and scrubby hair, but we also felt the restaurant was out of its element. While delicious, we were befuddled as to why such a fancy establishment was there, and how it did any business. This was not a Newport Beach yacht-club marina crowd. Cruisers are notoriously cheap. We were the only ones in the joint. A fish taco stand with cheap local beer would have been a much more frequented establishment. How bizarre, how bizarre. Well, my mango crème brulee was worth it.

May 20th – Shower Day
Got up late… didn’t even bother listening to the weather…what a treat. Slept great, quiet and still all night. It seems here it’s calm at night and during the morning and evening, but the wind always picks up in the afternoon. We walked to the Tripui Hotel about a half mile away along the road leading out to Highway 1. They have a restaurant with internet and so we obviously had to check that out.

Today we happily got to take a shower - for the first time in 15 days. A real, bonafide shower… with actual water pressure…and as much water as I wanted to waste… and as hot as I could get it. I washed my head at least 3 times, just for good measure. While we have enough water for showers on deck every couple days, I just can’t wash my head good enough, not with all my hair (Brian doesn’t have this problem). Our pump-pressure shower bag is good but nothing beats real pressure from a real shower to get all the salt out …and whatever else is stuck in there from swimming in salt water with microscopic critters. Don’t EVER shine a light at night down in the depths of the sea. You will see creepy crawly things not visible during daylight. I try not to think about what organisms could get stuck and die in my hair.

May 21st - Steinbeck Canyon
Today we made the trek to Steinbeck Canyon. We walked at least a mile and a half out to the main highway, and then a dirt access road continues for another ½ mile toward the mountain. The trail began at what appeared to be the construction site for a man-made reservoir. We crawled down into the arroyo from an expansive bed of rocks tented with chicken wire fencing. A few construction workers milled about.… moving rocks with wheelbarrows, placing them by hand. Old school.

We started up the trail, climbing over and around rocks as big as my old 4Runner. As we made our way upwards, the walls loomed high overhead and the canyon floor became smoother, ground down by eons of rushing water. We came to small, clear pools and miniature, gentle waterfalls, dropping into the next pool then disappearing underground and reappearing from nowhere again downstream. Beautiful and peaceful. This is supposedly where Steinbeck went hunting for bighorn sheep during his trip up the Sea.

We came to a rock wall about the height of a person and a half. The only way to get up it was to climb, and with barely any handhold crevasses. Brian made it up. While I like climbing on rocks, I am no rock climber. And my shoes were too flexible and the toes too fat to fit in any of the dinky toe holds without sliding and crashing on my behind, so we stopped. I am sure it was even more pretty over on the other side of that 80-degree wall… it’s always greener on the other side.

We hiked back along the smooth, weather-worn rock pools, around the gigantic boulders, back up the man-made arroyo. Along the access road we scared a big bull cow chewing his cud. He turned around suddenly and looked irate, like he was about to charge.  We stopped and stared at him and he stared at us.  No one moved for about a minute… and then he promptly went back to chewing. We had spooked him with our loud shoes crunching on the dirt.

We walked back down the road to Puerto Escondido and again sampled the Tripui restaurant for lunch, exhausted from walking at least 5 miles. Exercise for the week = done and done.

Circle of Knowledge
That afternoon we entered The Circle of Knowledge. This is an unofficial get-together of cruisers from 2-5pm every day next to the tienda. Beer-drinking, ice-cream munching and bullshitting is the name of the game involving 5-10 people, upwards to 20 on a particularly busy day. We walked through the circle the first day here and it was a bit intimidating maneuvering through this group of people just to get to the store, like you are walking a gauntlet. This time, we pulled up a chair and joined this famed Circle of Knowledge… otherwise known as the Amoeba of Awareness, since it’s rarely a perfect circle… to get some schooling.

This is where we got all the local info: where to get internet, rent a car, best grocery stores, anchorage and weather info, etc.. And everyone starts asking you questions….where you are headed, where you’re from, how come you’re so young to be retired, etc, etc. Everyone seems to be very nice… and helpful; the complete opposite of Marina de La Paz with its majority population of grouchy liveaboards.

Rat-a-tat-ouille
Our first question to The Circle: what the heck was making that noisy racket every evening? Sitting below the first night, we heard a staccato “rat-tat-tat”. Sometimes it was 4: “rat-tat-tat-tat”. Evenly spaced intervals, no pausing, like a jack-hammer. Not loud, just loud enough to annoy. It sounded like it was coming from inside the boat. Rat-tat-tat. Then again on the other side of the boat, like an echo, rat-tat-tat. Then again, back and forth, over and over. It was driving us crazy. We looked all over the boat, inside lockers… is it the bilge pump, the refrigerator? No. We went outside, tried to listen and see if it was another boat. We assumed it was mechanical. It had to be, it was too precise, no hesitating between tats, always the same number of tats, either 3 or 4 tats. It eventually stopped later at night, but started up again every evening.

We eventually gave up; it had to be someone’s generator noise or such traveling through the water into our hull. Come to find out through the Circle of Knowledge … that the noises we were hearing are FISH! Again with the noisy fish! Apparently they tap on your hull, picking algae or other goodies that are growing on there. I guess we need another bottom cleaning. We thought they were pulling our leg at first - it CAN’T be fish, it’s just so jack-hammer-like. Apparently not. If it’s not slapping fish, it’s rat-a-tat tatting fish.

May 22nd Shopping Day
We rented a car from Alamo for the day. There is only a tiny tienda at the marina, so going into Loreto for groceries is highly inconvenient. You either have to take a taxi for $26 each way or rent a car for about $75. Since we wanted to take our time, we opted for the car.

Nopolo
We took a side trip to Nopolo, a retirement village/golf/resort area we’d passed on our earlier road trip, just 7 miles south of Loreto. Driving along these little streets are perfectly paved, with real sidewalks, and little California type houses everywhere in the older part of Nopolo. Near the Hotel on Loreto Bay, which is a big resort with a beautiful golf course, there is a miniature condominium village with cobblestone streets. Little shops line the road with condos overhead…an architect, contractor, tour operator, boutique clothing, and a small coffee shop called Corazon where we had what we like to call “second breakfast” of pan frances (French toast), bacon and eggs and a white chocolate raspberry scone that was to die for.

We meandered through the condo area along quaint cobblestone paths, lined with cacti, flowers and rock gardens, only wide enough for walking or golf carting. I don’t see where these people park their cars; there are no garages. This must be like The Villages in Orlando it seems, and ironically it’s called the Villages of Loreto. Super cute, I felt like I was in a retirement village in La Jolla.

Loreto
After perusing the resort beach and golf course we headed to Loreto, casually driving around town to see what we could find. We parked downtown and toured the small Mission de Loreto, then noshed on pizza and salad at Pepegina's Pizza. Probably the best pizza crust in Mexico. While we were there, Brian was on the phone much of the time while we got a good cell tower signal. The owner noticed he was talking the entire time we were eating; she scolded him in Spanish “no more talking on the phone, it’s muy malo”. I had to explain in my limited Spanish that it was OK, we live on a boat and haven’t talked to our familia in many days. She understood and I also got out of her directions to the store.

Pretty much everything I needed was available at Leys grocery store, except oatmeal packets. And eggs - I couldn’t find eggs. Weird, I had heard about this problem from another boat. So I asked a young kid and he brought me to the vege section to wait while he went in back and talked with someone. Then after seemingly 3-4 minutes, he came out holding 2-18packs of egg trays. Too big. Oh, lo siento, puedo tener doce? Solomente doce? I just want 12. He comes out and brings me 2 packs of a dozen eggs after several more minutes. Are the chickens laying them back there? Does he have to bribe the egg manager to let him in? I feel bad and take both even though I only want one. I didn’t want to have him have to go back in again and put it away. Dumb, I know, but I just wanted out of there.

Shopping complete, we drive the 15 miles back to Puerto Escondido. By this time, it’s after 6pm. On a boat everything has to be done before sunset - darkness creates exponential difficulties. We load everything into the dinghy, including our two gas cans for the dinghy motor and generator (which we loaded with Premium fuel at Pemex). Whew…long day.

May 23rd Internet and Taco Saturday
Today we got up dropped off the keys to the car at the marina and headed to Tripui yet again for breakfast, or more importantly, to use their free internet. We stayed 2 hours putting up blogs until it died… on purpose?… maybe we overstayed our welcome.

Back at the marina we attended the famous Taco Saturday (that just doesn’t sound right). The tienda cooks pork tacos and you pick your toppings - limed and roasted poblano peppers, fresh radishes, onion, cilantro, tomato. A little bit of awesome. And we sat there and met more cruisers.

Traveling back to Indigo, we swung by a boat named “Tardis” to convey how much we liked their boat name.  We had been watching the TV show “Dr. Who” on Netflix, and the “Tardis” is the telephone booth time machine that The Doctor travels in, saving the world from disaster. They invited us to come back on board later and gave us a tour and a ton of downloaded books and videos on our terabyte drive. We now have loads of TV shows to keep us occupied, including of course, the entire Dr. Who series. Thank you Doctor!

May 24th, Last day in civilization
We thoroughly enjoyed our time in Puerto Escondido. But we will be leaving tomorrow after extending our stay one more day due to higher winds. The weather looks perfect for the next week.
So today we readied the boat for sailing: Filled the jerry jugs with diesel at the fuel dock. Cleaned the boat. Dinghied into the marina for one last perfect shower. Dumped our trash. Met some more cruisers. Ate at the fancy shmancy restaurant again just because we could. Put away the dinghy and outboard. One last good night sleep. Off again tomorrow to enchanted islands…