Larissa Lane
Just as I was about to doze off on night watch, the whistling in the rig increased and the wind on my face strengthened. Five storms were visible in the moonlight, each with smooth patches of rain-dimpled water and shadowy streaks of wet blackness angling down from the cloud to the water, like the antithesis of holy streams of bright sunlight streaming down from on high in Biblical paintings. I poked my head outside the cockpit enclosure to gage the winds. This one was stronger than anything yet, with 25 knot winds and rain beginning to fall in sheets. Eerily quiet, though, no lightning and thunder. I turned Australis downwind and started furling the jib with the winds building. The flogging of the jib woke L as I frantically hauled in on the roller furling line, taught as steel under the pressure of the winds. L came to the deck and helped finish the job and we turned back to the SE, sailing under double-reefed Miz and 20% jib. The winds slackened a bit and the rain came down harder, washing the La Cruz dirt from the rig onto the deck, pouring like a slick black waterfall down the sides of the masts. After donning a harness and inspecting the thin roller furling line in the rain, we rigged up a tether from the shackle at the base of jib to the toe rail and eased the tension in the roller furling line onto the tether. Of course a few minutes later the winds died. So we poked along at 2-3 knots in a light shower for another 20 minutes or so before unfurling the jib again to try to get south, beyond this eerie place as quickly as possible. This must be the ITCZ.
Repair & Recreation is the theme for this passage. Bob's had to repair his fridge & watermaker. Right now he's in his bilge replacing a broken steering cable with a bit of lifeline canibalized from on deck. On our boat, we've had to repair our autopilot, resew the foot of our jib, and replace spectra tethers at the ends of the spinaker poles with cable. All-in all we've been lucky. Haven't yet had to alter course to assist or seek assistance, except for the 4 hr detour 2 days ago--jib was down for hand sewing on deck. Yesterday we finally had enough energy and for real R&R--fishing and guitar practice. L caught a Mahi Mahi on a cedar plug just as a Chicken & Couscous dinner was being served and H was wrapping up a guitar scale in the setting sun. So this morning we had fresh fish for breakfast, a la Margaret (marinated overnight in lime juice). Now that we've tasted blood, we're hungry for more. The line is back out, the gaff is at the ready, and we'll hold off on dinner until after sunset.
Now that we've had our autopilot quit on us 6 days from land, and hand steered for 2 days, we have no more petty complaints about rolly seas, spoiling fruit, or skies filled with dark clouds and wind just a few degrees off from the perfect direction. Thanks to the "home team" for helping us find a work-around for the autopilot. We've added capacitors, stripped and reconnectored every wire, experimented with ice packs, and a dozen other things over the past 2 days. Even started assembling the pieces of the rudder post adapter for a backup system. But we think it comes down to a simple rap on the solenoid, just like an old car starter. Old sticky brushes are the likely culprit. A gentle tap to keep "Ray" awake every 30 minutes and we think we're home free.
With the autopilot giving us 2 straight hours of straight-as-a-ray steering, we've recharged with sleep, food, and attitude. Each cloudy sunset and sunrise is a welcome sight and little wind from anywhere is a good thing.
We've had an uneventful first 3 days for the crossing. Usual seasickness from rolly, jumbled 5 ft seas, but unusually favorable winds have kept us 100 miles ahead of our sailing buddies on Sisiutl. Passed Socorro Islands in the night, giving them a wide berth and never actually seeing them. Still a bit land-shy and GPS-wary after the "Black Wave" story.
Eventually you have to "go with what you've got." After some last minute cutting, filing, and tapping of galvanzed pipe for an emergency tiller we stopped at the fuel dock and departed Banderas Bay at sunset. It's been pretty rolly for the first day, but we're able to move on along at 3 kts with only tripple-reefed main & jib at night. Hearing from Bob and Jeff on the radio has helped our confidence.
 Thursday February 05, 2009 @ 05:00 PM PST
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| Racing to Banderas Bay |
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Yes, we have more stories of near-collisions with whales and relaxing (if rolly) downwind sailing from Chacala to Banderas Bay. It was hard to leave the jungle-ringed bay of Chacala, but we snuck out without turning on the engine in the predawn hours. But all our gumption couldn't keep us ahead of the parent/child boat pair that left hours after us and passed us that afternoon on their way to Banderas Bay. We obviously have to think about cranking the engine when the winds die and learn how to rig our poles for downwind sailing when the winds pick back up.
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Wednesday February 04, 2009 @ 03:00 PM PST
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| Horchata de Coco in Chacala |
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If you've never had a Horchata de Coco (coconut milk, sugar, coconut, whole milk, a little cinnamon or nutmeg, chilled & blended) on a secluded jungle-lined beach in Mexico, you're missing something special. The cobblestone streets and lava rock paths along the shore lead from palapa to palapa or up the slope to sophisticated cafes and eco-hotels -- this is indeed the anti-Cancun.
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Monday February 02, 2009 @ 08:56 PM PST
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| Blissful San Blas |
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It took 2 days to reach San Blas, but the long night watches rewarded us with a loud whale splashing his tail nearby in the darkness followed by whale song echoing through the boat--eerie and beautiful. Found ourselves glued to the salon floor with our ears against the water tank trying to pick up every low rumble and sighs, high squeaks and taps, and the long sad melodies that haunt you for the rest of the night. The next night we crept cautiously through the moonless night into the calm anchorage of Mantachan Bay. We rowed to shore late in the morning, locked the dingy to the drain pipe of a Palapa, and found our way into town. 110 pesos ($9 USD) bought us a guided "jungle tour" in a Panga with local Mexican tourists from the nearby big cities coming to enjoy the spring-fed swimming hole at the head of estuary. An American fireman attempting to kayak the mangrove maze directed us to the best coffee in Mexico--the San Blas Social Club. The club provided us with hours of entertaining stories from various nefarious ex-pats that curiously and repeatedly avoided revealing their reasons for fleeing the US and settling in San Blas. That night we fled the San Blas and the shady characters haunting the dark dirt streets to return to our lonesome dingy on the beach and our home anchored in the bay. We reached the bay just as darkness and moist air hid all signs of Australis, providing yet another night of suspense--zig-zag rowing through the foggy night in search of an invisible boat.
Flat seas and gentle breezes are nudging us south. Heading for San Blas (rivers to explore) or Isla Isabella (a very-mini Galapagos), depending on the wind. No Superbowl party for us. Will reconnect in La Cruz, north of Puerto Vallarta on Monday or Tuesday.
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Saturday January 24, 2009 @ 12:30 PM PST
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| Mainland Ho! |
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Flew across the Sea of Cortez averaging 6.2 kts made good for a 28 hr crossing in light, steady winds from the North with all 4 sails up for the first time this year. Mazatlan, the mainland, and the local cruisers network greeted us with unexpected hospitality and generosity. Tempting to stay, but the lure of the tropics is growing stronger. La Cruz will be the next stop for a decision between pacific crossing preparation and local cruising plans.
Got our confidence back with a short sail around the corner to Los Frailles arriving at 5 am yesterday morning. Gray whales, jumping rays, and magically phosphorescent plankton with every ripple in the water greeted us in the early morning hours. Walked to the "end of the road" restaurant and refueled our bodies. Heading out into the Sea today for the crossing to Mazatlan. Gray whales at the East Cape saw us off. Perfect wind today, but expect winds above 20 kts tomorrow--a psychological barrier for us, but shouldn't be a problem for the boat.
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Monday January 12, 2009 @ 08:40 AM PST
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| Whale of a Storm |
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Three days ago ran into a humpback whale family feeding, nursing, and breaching on our way out into the Sea of Cortez. Even the Mahi Mahi had to jump out of the water to get away from them. Hit a Gale offshore and had to retreat back to Cabo. Whale and dolphin pods performed for us most of the way out and back. Need some land time to recover from storm sailing sea sickness, etc.
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Friday December 26, 2008 @ 10:16 AM PST
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| Cabo Christmas |
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We had a wonderful Christmas in Cabo. No snow, turkey, presents or Christmas trees, but sunny skies, warm water, cool breezes and white sand beaches. Looks like we'll be here a while, so L can refill the kitty with translation work and we can restock the fridge and catch up on Christmas cards. We've saved up 3 date nights, an anniversary, christmas eve, and christmas day--so we've got at least 5 days of holidaying ahead of us.
Watch what you wish for... sun, calm seas, minimal wind all the way to Cabo. Sold out & motored a bit this morning. Now finally got some wind to hold both foresails out. 2-3 kt speeds are trying, though. Guess it'll be canned chicken and tortillas while rounding Cabo Falso for Christmas.
They should call this Pelican Bay. They dive incessantly into the early evening all around the boat. Reminds us of a Mobile Bay or Inner Harbor. Calm, shallow, lots of room.
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