March 28-March 31 Heading North Once Again

Heading ashore for sunset cocktails on Isla Espiritu Santo

We left La Paz friday afternoon (March 28th) in the afternoon, amazing how long it takes to scrape ourselves off the dock. We hoped to get to Isla Espiritu Santo, but due to a stronger than anticipated Northerly wind we had to tuck into Bahia Falsa, barely 3 miles out side of the entrance to the channel of La Paz. We passed the rest of the afternoon lazing around, not enticed by the water. 

The next morning saw us up early and heading to Espiritu Santo. A favorable west wind allowed us to put up our sails and test out the newly repaired genoa. Mainsail alone saw us doing 1.5 knots and the genoa bumped us up to 4.5 in a 10 knot breeze! Pretty nice to have large sail area…until it starts to blow too much. Within a couple hours we had reached the island and the wind picked up to upper teens. We had too much canvas up and needed to reduce sail area.

However we had a couple fishing pangas to leeward and a point of the island that we couldn’t quite weather. So with a snap decision we tried to drop the genoa rather than bear away and dodge boats. It didn’t go smoothly. It flogged itself and tore a new hole in the leach, however it was repairable. After diffusing the situation we motored the rest of the way to our anchorage and dropped the hook and took a deep breath. A quick reflection discussed what happened and how to improve for next time.

Puffer fish skeleton on shore

After business was finished Justen and Patrick went for a swim to experience the near tropical waters and clear visibility. The aqua blue of the water was mesmerizing and the rocks were covered with coral. There were lots of tropical fish too, surgeon fish, parrot fish, and wrasses swimming around. The geography of the island is fascinating. There is a probably 15 degree angle of tectonic pieces going upwards from west to east. These layers were split open at sharp angles, lending to the bays we anchored in and beautiful cracks and colors on the cliffs, reminiscent of the south west US.

Early start the next day wit the goal of making up ground. We motored all day with a couple interruptions to haul sails and take advantage of a south wind. While nearing Bahia Agua Verde, we hooked a fish that proceeded to leap out of the water and show itself, proving to be a Dorado. Unfortunately, the leap and head shake pulled the hook from his mouth. It turned out this was the exact same location we had hooked a Dorado on the way down, but with the same result. No dorado for us :(  We did manage to bring in a nice needle fish, probably about 2.5 ft long. These guys supposedly can get up to 5 ft long and have wicked teeth. Yikes!

We arrived at our anchorage, Puerto Los Gatos right around sunset. The warm sunlight on the red rock cliffs was beautiful, reminding us of a sunset in Zion national park.  As soon as we dropped the hook we were offered lobster from a local panguero, but politely declined, as we had lots of fish from spearing the previous day. We had made good headway, roughly 50 miles north in one chunk. Tomorrow, Puerto Escon”gringo”.

March 25-28: La Paz at Last!

Today we reached La Paz, our southern most destination. Getting in to the port was an interesting experience though… There is a long(about 6 miles), narrow entrance channel that is dredged to make passage to the downtown area of La Paz. We stayed at a Marina right downtown and on the Malecon to experience the city life. Getting into our side-tie slip was interesting, as we  basically had to parallel park the boat! David did a nice job getting us in safely.

The Malecon

Our first afternoon in town was sweltering. With no water to swim in, we walked around in 90 degree heat, but thankfully we found some convenient paleta shops, allowing us to cool down and Patrick to try out more ideas for his popsicle business.

Posted due to the numerous dogs the cruisers have

The next morning we woke up to the local cruisers net. It is basically a way for the community of cruisers to stay in touch and hear the weather and other announcements. We used it to find Sea Otter Jimmy, a guy who sailed down on a trimaran 30 years ago and fell in love with a local girl who worked at a ice cream store! So he stayed down here and happens to be a highly recommended outboard mechanic, so we paid him to service our Honda. After the net is over, many cruisers head over to Club Cruceros, a little building near our marina that has a library and social area for the cruisers. It is amazing how many retired gringos are living the cruising life in La Paz, but it makes sense. They have a social life right on shore, easy to access with bocce ball, yoga, volleyball, line dancing and more activities nearly every day. Club Cruceros is like a retirement home for gringos in Mexico. Patrick bought a “pink” shirt, or officially apricot ice color for the upcoming Bay Fest, a weekend full of fun activities.

Our neighbor mother hummingbird

La Paz seems like a pleasant little town. At night the Malecon wakes up and is full of Pacenos(what people from La Paz are called) exercising or strolling with their lover and ice cream. It is really great to have a couple mile long walk that is totally protected from cars!

The famous Pearl of La Paz

After a few days in La Paz, we started to get restless for the sea. It was just too darn hot and our area was full of old cruisers, not people we were stoked to hang out with. Finally, with a few scrapes of the dock on our way out, we were heading back north.

Vicious locals (Free tire puncturing if you park there!)

March 24: Tropical paradise (well, almost tropical)

Our anchorage today is about 60 miles away from the line known as the Tropic of Cancer.

Our anchorage's beautiful water color

 At 23.5 Degrees north this line officially designates the northern border of the "tropics" - the portion of the earth's surface that is closest to the equator.  Although we are not in the tropics, it sure feels like we are.

The temperature is in the 80s or low 90s, the water is very clear (30+ ft visibility), and a cold beer tastes oh so good.

The amazing water clarity at Ensenada Grande

 The water color is an amazing turqoise/light blue color, and the only people sharing our anchorage are the members of a family on a kayak vacation on the beach.

This is pretty amazing!

March 23: Flying the kite

We have moderate to light winds today, and our course takes us dead downwind.  So we push past our hesitation and pulled out the "dangerous" sail - the spinnaker.

Hoisting the spinnaker

We have three hands aboard (e.g., three crew members with one hand each for themselves and one hand for the boat).

We rummage around the boat looking for all the sheets and guy-lines to control the spinnaker.   After about 30minutes of unfamiliar prep-work, we are ready to raise the sail.  The wind is a gentle 4-7 knots, so there is minimal risk at this time.

A full spinnaker pulling us along

Long story short, we get the spinnaker set and are able to make 5.0-5.5 knots of speed in about 7-8 knots of wind.

Its the first time this trip, and is pretty satisfying!

PS - anyone else notice that our spinnaker is good for the Mexican colors.

March 21: A Panga Harangue: Isla Coronado to Puerto Escon"gringo"

Fishing regulations in Baja?? Who knew?!

Woke up and quickly went snorkeling/spearfishing to take advantage of the beautifully clear water. We had 20-30 ft of visibility, the best in a long while. Motored around the southeast point of Isla Coronados and started diving. We some some huge Cabrilla and grouper and Patrick and David started employing a group hunting tactic to herd the fish towards the spearer. A panga stopped by wit dive gear to tell us that we were near a thoroughfare for pangas and to be careful. We had seen them coming and avoided them by a good distance. After Patrick speared a nice spotted cabrilla, another panga stopped by again telling us that we were in a dangerous place and should have a dive flag. It is true, we should have a flag, and were not aware this was such a panga highway. They saw the spear gun and got a little upset with us for it was forbidden to use a speargun in the national park. We had no idea we were even in a national park, let alone a rule allowing regular fishing but not spear fishing. That must be why there are such big fish around… David saw the lady on the panga hop on her phone and feared that she was calling the authorities, whatever that would be in Mexico. So we scooted to our dinghy and quickly motored back to Blue Eyes. A couple passing pangas gave us a little bit of elevated blood pressure, fearing that they were the “authorities”, but after quickly getting underway, we left our fears at the anchorage. It took a little to shake the tone and attitude the lady in the panga had towards us, but we justified her behavior by this: how would we feel if we found someone hunting in Yosemite and simply said they didn’t know it was forbidden or that they were in a National Park?

Very important provision

Whale shark stare down

So we headed the 6 miles to Loreto for some re supplying. Loreto is a bustling town compared to Mulege, with the largest super market Justen has seen in Mexico. We stopped at a well supplied fishing/chandlery store. Secured a dive flag and some more fishing gear, but no hose for the dinghy. 

After finishing up groceries we headed south to Puerto Escondido to anchor for the night. It was surreal entering the nearly enclosed natural harbor, as we saw some 50-75 other sailboats anchored/moored. We are no longer in the desolate Nortern Sea. Some cruisers calls this port “Puerto Escongringo” and listening to the radio chatter and seeing the boats we now see why. We anchored in the larger bay and turned in for the night, to figure out paperwork tomorrow.

"America!": Repairing our gringo pride!

March 20 - rememberance

Remembering Marc at the cruiser's shrine

After Patrick spears us some ceviche ingredients this morning, we head ashore once more in San Juanico. 

San Juanico is home to a cruiser's shrine, in this case a tree where passing boats leave mementos containing boat and crew names.  We left our own, but we also took the time to hold a short memorial ceremony. 

A short while earlier we had received word of the passing of Marc Hersch, the husband of one of our mom's dear friends Monica and a long-distance cruiser.  So we dedicate a moment to remember him. 

Marc's guidance was integral to David selecting Blue Eyes.  Marc's teaching instructed Patrick on how to sail larger boats.  And Marc and Monica's  cruising to Panama and to Europe and Back over several years has inspired us to pursue this cruising adventure while we can.  We hope that Marc and family can be at peace in the to come.

We each take a (small) swig of rum, the traditional sailor drink, and then pour a swig for Marc and all other cruisers who have moved on to an eternal cruising ground.

Fittingly, we have fair winds and a following sea almost all the way from San Juanico to Isla Coronados, near Loreto.  We drop anchor in 15ft of water with crystal clear visibility, and enjoy beer and the ceviche that Patrick had speared earlier.

Marc and Monica were on to something with this cruising lifestyle.

March 19: Guest post by Justen - Sashimi and Kuub: The Dude Abides

March 19
San Juanico

Sashimi and Kuub: The Dude Abides

Sailing down to San Juanico, we snared a Kawakawa on the fishing line we've got trolling out behind us, a beautiful, hefty tuna-beast. Absolutely delightful. So we did the only natural thing and that's to kill and eat it, the meat's fine enough to eat raw,

Sea caves near Punta Pulpito

dipped in soy sauce and wasabi, the rich meat melts  in one's mouth with every bite. I can see why the cruising crowd returns every year to the Sea of Cortez. And when we pulled into anchorage at San Juanico, crowded, those were the other cruisers we met.

The further south one sails in Cortez, the more cruisers one meets. Here though, it's an older crowd, regulars for years or even decades, all aboard Catamarans or real nice 50-foot monohulls . One of the couples pulls alongside us in their dinghy and invites us ashore for beach games.

It's a cool contrast to our time spent with Eric & Pam, Cliff and & Giselle, twenty-something cruisers like us. Their spirit here is the same: jovial, friendly, and ballasted by drinking. It's a youthful way to live, and we play bacci ball and some sort of old Norseman's game, Kuub. While Patrick and David get serious about Kuub, I join forces with an older photographer named Jeff in the hunt for what they call Apache Tears, smooth chunks of obsidian buried in the sands around here. Jeff looks like if the Dude were skinnier, and references The Big Lebowski in the first five minutes of our meeting. He once was assigned a gig to photograph for a book about the Nevada desert, expected it to take a few weeks, roaming the deserts off-roading. After five years he finally finished, with a house in the

David and Patrick learning Kuub

Mohave. in the beach-side desert now, picking burrs from our bare feet and flicking them back in the sands, heat and the winds and the ancient geography, stratified layers of crumbling and unforgiving rocks in turn, and it's impossible for me to say whether the hills are coming down or climbing, all at a scale imperceptible to our short-lived eyes. I don't know if I've got words better than cliches for the desert, so I won't try to describe it. But I will say that, if one is patient and carefully observant, you can get a taste of the ecological richness so often totally missed behind car windows on drives through to Las Vegas or Phoenix. We find our Apache Tears, and although I can't tell if it's really all that good luck for white guys to be hoarding the supposed tears of native people (according to the myth), the obsidian mesmerizes us. We shake hands and will probably never meet again; quite literally two ships passing in the night, sans romance. The cruising life is curious in that regard, a long stretch of insular living with one or two companions, punctuated by a series of brief and fulfilling encounters with others living in the same distinct and quirky way.

   
Back at the shore, the older cruisers are departing, see you here next year, they say, shaking hands, hugs going round, stories they've told before and all heard before winding down. As they leave, the wife in the couple who invited us flashes us from their departing dinghy, with the world's fattest boat-dog weighing down the bow, and on the shore some of the guys moon back. I get the impression that maybe they've got the youth thing figured out better than I do, and they're all 3 decades or more ahead of me. Maybe it's a learned skill, and reassuring at that.

Patrick and David gather up the hollowed, skeletal pale wood of dead and dried cacti to make a Kuub set of our own, and we head back to the boat around sunset.