Clif and I both
woke up ten minutes before our alarm went off this morning. The anchorage was
quiet, except for the sound of wires and lines clanging inside multiple masts
as the boats gently rolled side to side. This bizarre bell chorus, a familiar
sound for most mariners, greeted us as we stepped out of the cabin into the
night sky. We were giddy and excited to see new stars at a new position in the
sky. When was the last time we had been up milling around a 4:00am? We prepped
the deck, cleaning up and stowing miscellaneous toys. As we hoisted the anchor,
we saw a line of neon green phosphorescence pierce through the water and light
the sandy bottom below. All the joys we found in night sailing this past fall
we were reliving, remembering how peaceful the water and that stars feel.
Once out of the
anchorage, motoring steady alongside our friends Eric and Pam on S/V Emma Bell, we sought out stars to orient
ourselves. The big dipper was almost directly in front of us, a view we haven’t
seem in quite some time. We’re headed north! “North to Alaska,” Clif said, “By
boat, bus, airplane and [for Clif] by
boat again.” It’s a little disorienting to feel the north wind in out faces and
use the North Star as a navigational tool, but is very exciting. We’re headed
north, back home, at least for now.
A First Time for
Everything…
This has been a
year of firsts. Similar to experiencing your freshmen year of college, away
from home, we have been learning something new and valuable everyday. We’re
cruising sponges, trying to soak in as many tricks of the trade as possible. At
various times during the past six months we’ve gone through exhausting
challenges and blissful rewards.
Our first day
out of Puerto Escondido, the day after dropping off Jon at the Loreto airport,
I was stung (for the first time) by a bee. If there’s anything that could put a
damper on Baja/Sea of Cortez cruising, it’s the damn bees. We noticed that half
way through the afternoon the amount of bees swarming our boat was increasing.
I took to swatting them with my snorkel fin in the cockpit (increased surface
area meant stunning more bees). One bee landed on the back of my shoulder, and
I, stupidly, screamed and attacked it immediately. For it being my first bee
sting, I reacted exactly the same way I would have if I had been five (a normal
age for Non-Alaskan kids to experience a bee sting). I hyperventilated for a
few seconds, frantically asking Clif to help me, and then proceeded to cry big
crocodile tears. It hurt BAD. Clif pulled out the stinger and doctored me up.
It wasn’t five
minutes later that Clif was stung… in a less fortunate spot on his body.
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| Clif and his Yellowtail Amberjack! |
The next day, on
the beaches of Caleta San Juanico, I stepped barefoot on the dried-up carcass
of a dead puffer fish. Yes, the spinney ones… also known as Porcupine Fish.
These little buggers blow up and end up floating in with the tide, littering
the shoreline with long boney spikes and making most Mexican white sand beaches
ever so hazardous for bare feet. The pain of the small puncture wound in the pad
of my found was sore for days.
A much happier
“first” occurred the morning we sailed north, out of San Juanico. Clif has been
dragging a halibut line for months behind out sailing vessel, in hopes of
catching us some dinner. He finally had is wish granted with a 10 pound
Yellowtail Amber Jack swallowed our hook and ran with it. Fish on! With a
little teamwork and some cheering over the VHF radio from Eric on Emma Bell, we managed to gaff a beautiful fish, fillet it and prep it for some
tasty ceviche to be had by all! After how many rod hours?? We have been
dragging that darn line since Juneau!! Clif was so happy. It was priceless to
hear him yell, “Fish IN the boat!” as he flung the silver and yellow fish into
our cockpit. We did it! We are official homesteaders: catching our own
dinner... and now feel like bad asses. Three nights in a row, Eric, Pam, Clif
and I ate the fish we caught from our boats and feasted like cruising kings.
Can’t get much better than that.
Our First Real Buddy
Boating…
 |
| Mango Margaritas on Emma Bell |
We arrived in
Ensenada, Mexico mid-November, freshly showered and down from San Diego with my
Dad onboard. In the customs/immigration office we met several cruisers, but a
couple stood out to us: another young couple! We introduced ourselves briefly and
continued about our business. That couple was Eric and Pam on S/V Emma Bell, hailing from Ventura, California.
Now, four months
after originally crossing paths, we are finally “buddy boating” with them and
enjoying the perks of traveling with another couple up the Baja coast. It has
been a blast to snorkel, spear fish, beach walk and dine with our new cruising
buddies. I know it sounds slightly cheesy, but when you’re traveling around
with just your partner in a small living space, it’s a joy to meet new,
same-age friends: sharing the wind, water, and the fresh fish catches. We have
enjoyed our time traveling with them. They are also hauling their boat out in
Guaymas and working seasonally. We plan to meet up sometime next winter,
possibly after the holidays, and make our way back down to our boats in
Guaymas.
Together we made
the passage up to Bahía Concepción in one fell swoop, all 56 long, hot nautical
miles. We decided that the Sea of Cortez had grown us all soft to long days at
the wheel: with its many beautiful, protected anchorages, all within 5-15 miles
of each other. Why push it? However, the coastline up to Concepción is not
quite as forgiving, thus requiring us to make a little bit of a push. Clif and
I laughed at our exhaustion. We did 40-50 miles everyday in Alaska and Canada! We
pulled into Playa Santispac in Bahia Coyote around 6pm (a total 14-hour day),
anchoring up next to each other and pulling off our dinghies, ready to get off
our boats and enjoy some local cuisine and cold beers.
Everyone knows
that finding friends you can travel with is a gift. It’s hard to find people
who are amiable, entertaining, flexible, and similarly cost-conscious… (let alone
a boat that has the same travel plan as ourselves), but we have lucked out in
this last chunk of our journey.
Bahía Life: “No Bad Days in
Mulegé”
 |
| View of Playa El Burro Anchorage (foreground), and Playa Coyote (behind) |
Bahía Concepción
is located right along side Mexican Highway 1, making the many beaches and
coves accessible to RVers, kayakers and car campers. The beaches of Bahía
Coyote (the most popular cruising grounds in Concepción) are lined with
Canadian/American RVs, sprinter vans, motorcycles, tents, palapa roofed houses
and huts. The first beach lies 13 miles out of Mulegé, the closest town for
reprovisioning, which is an easy hitchhike away with all the resident RV/camper
traffic.
 |
| Mago's: Local gringo hangout in Mulege (coffee/breakfast/wifi) |
Our first
evening in the bay, our propane tank ran out. We were hoping to make it to
Guaymas, but not quite. We rowed ashore in the morning, carrying our empty tank
and a small backpack. Immediately, not a minute after we pulled the Walker Bay
up onto the beach, the nicest couple (Bill and Sue) offered us a ride into town
and back out again while they did their laundry at the lavandaría. We were able to resupply on fresh fruits and veggies,
fill our propane tank and use the internet, all in a matter of hours. We
couldn’t thank them enough. I baked them some of Jill’s famous Beer Bread and
gave it to them with our “sail-zine” the following morning.
Mulegé is a
little green oasis along Hwy 1, attracting many a gringo with its tiny
European-like streets and vast palm trees. We had heard great things about
Mulegé from a young couple in Cabo that were traveling via motorcycle around
Baja. It was perfect for all of our nomadic needs: propane, laundry, fresh
groceries, a coffee shop, clean water. If we were zipping around Baja
car-camping or like-wise, we could definitely spend some time here. We highly
recommend it. While walking around the town we noticed several window decals
that said, “No bad days in Mulegé.” Clearly, we have come across a magical
spot. The green lush town is a stark contrast to the more common desert scenery…
a breath of fresh, humid air… lucky us. No bad days!
 |
| My favorite Winnebago on Playa Santispac! I want one! |
We hunkered down
for the weekend, anchoring off of El Burro Beach along with Eric and Pam, and
another small group of young guys on S/V Blue Eyes—hailing from Santa Cruz [Check
out their blog here: travelswithsharkie.blogspot.com].
With such a big group cruising group, we’ve taken advantage of sharing dinghy
rides, fish, beer and limes. We also frequented “Bertha’s Beach Club,” a
Mexican Restaurant on the north end of the beach, for the cold cervezas and a
break from the boat.
One flat calm
morning, Clif and I ate breakfast early and set off on a hike up above all the
Bahía Coyote anchorages. The view allowed us to see the sandy shoals and deep
blue sections of every individual anchorage. We could see our little boat from
the top of the ridge: a tiny little white speck, safe and snug.
 |
| Swimming alongside the Whale Shark in El Burro (Photo courtesy of Eric) |
 |
| Another great pic of me alongside the whale shark by Eric. |
Once back down,
we immediately went swimming and heard all the commotion coming from Emma Bell. They had seen whale sharks,
several of them, swimming around our boats in the anchorage! We had missed
them! But they weren’t far. We spotted some kayakers paddling next to them just
outside the cove. All four of us piled in Eric and Pam’s dinghy and slowly
putted over to the whale shark. After my experience in La Paz (which was a
little terrifying with the high chop and low visibility) I was very confident
sliding into the water and finning up next to the giant fish. He was slowly
moving along the surface through perfectly clear water. I could see Clif,
opposite me with the whale shark in between, keeping up with every turn and
dive. We stayed with him for ten or fifteen minutes until he decided to dive
deeper, out of our view. I can still see the sunlight passing through the water
and rippling over his white spots. With such calm, clear water, we couldn’t
have asked for a better interaction.
(Thank you Eric for the awesome pictures of me snorkeling alongside one of the larger whale sharks! Look how massive that fish is compared to me!)
I chose to swim
back to the boat for some exercise and was surprised to find a visitor passing
right behind the stern as I approached. A much smaller, juvenile whale shark
swam within an arms-length of me, curious about his fellow swimming.
To finish off
that spectacular day, Pam and I insisted on a campfire with music and marshmallows.
All five boys (Clif, Eric and the boys on S/V Blue Eyes) went ashore to gather
some driftwood on the beach, while Pam and I collected instruments and s’more
goodies. We all agreed, after the fire was blazing and we had passed around the
guitar a view times, that the scene was quite cliché, but there’s a reason
clichés and what they are. It was peaceful. I fell asleep in the sand with my
head on Clif’s leg, while our new friend Patrick played through as many tunes
that came to mind. No cell phones, no speakers: just us and our dinghies on
beach. I love campfires… especially the ones that include marshmallows and
music.
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| Gotta love the young cruisers campfire. |
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| I caught dinner.... with a spear!! |
I’ve had another
“first” here in El Burro! Eric, Pam, Clif and I went out to the southern, rocky
point of the anchorage for some spear-fishing and I speared my first fish with
a Hawaiian sling pole-spear. I was underwater, in pursuit on a little snapper,
when I spotted a medium-sized Triggerfish, just minding his own business behind
a rock. I already had the pole-spear ready, and without hesitation, I aimed and
let it go. I was shocked when I felt the squirming fish on riggling on the end
of the pole. Did I really just spear a fish? Holy crap… what do I do… of wait,
I need to breath! While still holding the spear against the rock (nervous the
fish could just wriggle off), I came up for air.
“I caught a
fish! I caught a fish!” I yelled towards Clif, who was warming up in the
dinghy. “What do I do?!” I was slightly struggling with my fingertips putting
pressure on the pole spear and my mouth on the surface. Everyone laughed and
cheered at my funny, victory swim. Once I knew the fish was hooked, I lifted
the spear tip high in the air and finned my way back to the boat.
In less than an
hour I had filleted my new catch and thrown the fresh white chunks of meat into
a pot of simmering coconut milk. It was my second Triggerfish green vegetable curry,
but this dish was much more special. Talk about speedy time from
“farm-to-table.”
March 16, 2014
My love/hate relationship
with the wind...
Somewhere along
the line, I picked up that sailors inherently love the wind. Of course, why not?
The wind can take a sailboat thousands of miles without using a drop of fuel or
an ounce of human strength (well, I little human strength). The sea breeze is
fresh and invigorating, especially when you are clipping right along with full
sails. It’s a happy day when we can turn off the drone of the engine and just
hear the water passing under the hull.
But occasionally
the wind will pick up and slowly get stronger. It takes a little more effort to
reign in the power, not put out too much sail. The breeze in your face is not
so breezy. It’s more like sticking your face in front of a giant fan: eyes squinting,
hair in your face. We can still sail fast, but become much more aware of the
power the wind has over us.
And then there
are times like this morning.
I went to sleep
late after finishing the first book of The Hunger Games trilogy. The wind had
picked up a little bit in the afternoon and had continued into the night:
nothing substantial, but still windy enough that we had to put things away in
the cockpit before falling asleep. I woke around 12:45am and heard the gusts
howling down nearby canyons, clearly going to pick up. Clif and I take turns
getting up periodically and checking outside, the dinghy, or surroundings… etc.
The wind gusts are steadily increasing, pivoting our boat back and forth on the
anchor chain. Noises outside make us bolt up and check. I watched the wind
meter start reading 25-30 kts on the strong gusts, hoping it will calm down
soon, so I can actually sleep tonight. A couple stronger gusts blow around 4am,
followed by some loud noises. The dinghy has flipped and the oars are gone. Not
only that, the spinnaker pole, which was holding out the dinghy as a “flopper
stopper” (to ease the rolling of the boat) completely bent in half.
After putting
everything away and getting back into the v-berth, we try and sleep for a tiny
amount of time, but I glance out the window and notice a large turquoise
gaff-rigged schooner inching closer and closer. It’s not my depth perception,
they’re definitely dragging anchor…. And is the boat next to him… and so are
we! Hauling up the anchor in 35 kt winds is huge chore (and doing it twice it
worse) but we did, trying to avoid boats like bumper cars in a crowding
anchorage. Three of the boats didn’t even have owners on board, so they
frolicked about the anchorage as they pleased while we moved out of any dangerous
path. At one point Clif and I chose to leave the anchorage, hoping to find some
nearby shelter (rather than getting rammed by an empty boat) but quickly came
back in after reading gusts up to 50 kts in Bahia Coyote. Some folks on the VHF
were declaring 60-70 kts in their anchorage. The freak hurricane wind reading
came out of nowhere and caused a good 3-4 hours of havoc on the
anchorages/beaches of Bahia Coyote. At one point I realize how white I am, not
my skin tone, but the salt built up
on my skin. The salt spray being blown around by the wind covered everything,
including our bodies. Once we settled into a good spot and the wind settled
back down to gusts of 30, we were able to take mini fresh-water showers in our
head while also observing the damage on the El Burro Beach. A palapa roof was
in the water, along with several plastic water tanks, an empty kayak, scattered
lawn chairs, and, I’m sure, our oars out there… somewhere. Good thing we have a
sail kit!!
Sitting on the
bow, lowering the anchor for the last time of the morning, a gust blew the boat
hard over as I held on to the pulpit stanchions (with my lifejacket on) and was almost brought to tears by my fear
of what these strong winds could do to our little home. I felt so vulnerable.
But I couldn’t feel that for long, because Clif was counting on a first mate to
help secure us and get the job done well.
I’ve only seen
winds above 45 kts three times on the boat, and I don’t care to repeat any on
them. But this time was different. We were in a secure anchorage and still
faced high winds and obstacles, BIG obstacles—like the shore, and other boats.
Thankfully we were awake, alert and ready to move quickly.
We’re going to
have to do some serious scavenging in the next couple of days, who knows what
we’ll find on the beach… from the sound of chatter on the radio, probably many
oars.
March 17, 2014
 |
| (Photo courtesy of Pam on S/V Emma Bell) |
Now that the wind has come
and gone…
… We are planning
on taking off from Playa El Burro tomorrow afternoon (Tuesday, the 18th—Happy
Birthday Clairen!). We’re in town today grabbing on provisions and preparing for
the cross. Forecast winds are light and seas calm as the wind moves around from
north to south. Should be a nice night of stars as we (S/V Emma Bell included) make
our way to Guaymas. We should arrive early Wednesday morning.
Hopefully my next
blog post will show successful photos of Sound Discovery’s hull cleaned and out
of the water on the hard! It’ll take us a couple days to pull everything together
before pulling in out, but I will update before we leave Guaymas for Phoenix.
Thanks for reading
ya’ll! May the winds be gently at your
back.
Giselle
