North around Cabo Corrientes

Can you find two of the same things in this picture?

When last we spoke we were having some equipment failures while visiting the Manzanillo area.  Don’t let this bother you or keep you up at night because intermixed between these small inconveniences are some very very good times.  We've had shrimp so often that we are running out of ways to cook it.  I sleep in as long as I want most mornings and am traveling with the most charming companions on the planet.  

Connie’s son Ezrah had left the boat up in one of our favorite little towns on the Costalegre (Happy Coast), Barra de Navidad. He bussed inland to Guadalajara and spent a week there before heading south and west to find us on the beach at Bahia Santiago, near Manzanillo.  There we were, sitting on the beach at a Palapa bar drinking cold beer and eating ceviche when he walks right up to us, finding us there miles away from where we were last anchored.

Ezrah Guadalajara bound

Having successfully navigated this short trip, Ezrah started planning the next; this one much longer and involving Oaxaca and Mexico City.  By the time we got north to Barra from Manzanillo he had finalized his plans and he set off again, this time from the seaside town of Melaque, just a few miles from Barra. Ezrah headed south by bus and we then turned north to head back up the coast. 

We stopped at one of our favorite anchorages, Tenacatita, where we strung lines all around the boat down to the water so we could scrub the hull and have something to hold on to.  Exhausting work it is to swim and scrub.  With every stroke you push yourself away from the boat so you have to use the fins and ropes to pull yourself back in.  Then when you dive below the water to get at the lower part of the hull your shoulders and arms can scrape on the hull and the tiny barnacles can scrape up your skin.  It is best to wear a full wet suit and gloves.  We got about half the hull cleaned that day.

Careyes

About this time of the year two things happen on this coast. Some of the local businesses close up or reduce their hours because the tourists stop coming.  Evidently the Canadians start to head for home in March.  And also, the strong northerly winds that scooted us down here start to peter out a little.  There are now occasional calm spells where it is possible to inch your way north without having twenty knots of wind with a four foot swell on the nose.  Many of the boaters sit in comfortable anchorages waiting for the good weather window to appear so they can start to migrate north.  We listen to the morning radio net and hope that Chris and Heather on the sailing vessel Legacy will fill us in on what the winds will be like for the next few days.  A bunch of boats will accumulate in a jumping off point and when the window opens they sprint north.

I got on the radio the evening before we left Tenacatita to do an informal boat count of who was leaving in the morning to head north and came up with eight replies from various boats in the anchorage with the same plan.  

Careyes

Tracy Ann

Morning Star

Viva

Buena Vista

Jake

Falcon

Grasshopper

Traveler

So we’d have a pack of them heading out in the morning.  Traveler went north after breakfast and headed for a small residential cove named Careyes where they have most amazing colors on the homes.   This is a marginal anchorage squeezed in there between the rocks so we made it a lunch stop only.  Out again into the Pacific we found some wind and did some sailing, arriving at our next stop, Bahia Chamela at dusk to find an assortment of boats there who we were familiar with, one of which is the Cal 42, Falcon. Most people travel from Tenacatita to Chamela, overnight there then make their bid for rounding the cape and into Banderas Bay all in one overnight voyage or split the trip in two legs by stopping over at Punta Ipala.

Ipala anchorage. Note the fish pens, reefs, rocks, and panga moorings.

Early the next morning, before sunrise, we up anchored and left.  On our way out of the harbor in the dock we almost hit some fish pens in the dark but we made it out safely with much of the fleet behind us.  Throughout the day we spied six other sailboats heading north with us, all on similar course settings, some further out than others.  The seas were running a little high that morning so the going was a little rough until noon as we motored directly into the waves. Instead of rounding the cape in the early evening we opted to stop in the tiny cove at Punta Ipala where we had anchored before on the way south.  

Falcon next to us at Ipala as the sun sets.

At Ipala we found our friends on Falcon already squeezed in there so we squeezed in there next to them, having to reset our bow anchor twice to get our angle and distance right.  We set a stern anchor to hold us pointing in the right direction and set out a row of fenders on the starboard side then went below to sleep.  Around midnight Connie woke to some banging sounds coming from our starboard quarter.  Sleepy Scott said, "Don't worry, it's just a panga bumping us."  She said, "Get your butt out here. This is a mess!" 

So I hauled my sorry self out of bed to join my love on deck in a dark scene of chaos.  The tide had dropped and the pangas had relocated everywhere as their anchor lines went slack.  One panga had worked its huge bow under our fenders, fouled our rear anchor line, and was ramming our stern. There was no moon and the waves crashing on the shore sounded loud, close, and ominous.  When earlier we had gone below to sleep Falcon was beside us, about 40 feet away.  Now she was 25 feet ahead of us and turned sideways towards the rocks.  Clearly the situation was not the best as our bow sprit approached their port side.

I hauled out our mega searchlight and plugged it into a twelve volt source.  The powerful beam swept the anchorage and revealed a picture unlike what we'd seen at sunset.  We tried to make sense of all the dark objects and get an idea of where we were in relation to all the hazards around us.  Connie's memory of the event is the boat bouncing, the panga crashing against us, Falcon just off our bow in danger herself, and the search light sweeping the chaotic anchorage.  Fear sparked action.

Connie in happier times

Connie and I were in immediate agreement that this anchorage was not working for us so we got the panga off of us and woke up the crew on Falcon who were not happy to see their boat so near the shore.  We pulled forward and brought up the bow anchor on the windless, then backed down on the rear anchor, pulling it up by hand and cockpit winch. I tried to avoid mooring buoys and when near one, switched to neutral so as not to get the prop caught up in one. Once the anchoring tackle was on deck we motored south on a compass heading in a completely dark of the moon night.  I used the GPS for the heading and the radar to make sure we were where we wanted to be in relation to the land.  It’s kind of a harrowing experience to wake up in the night, realize that you have to move the boat, then leap off into the dark night to round a cape notorious for its strong winds and rough seas.

Falcon, her crew in a similar state of mind, decided to leave also and she followed us out of the harbor then directly west as we got some distance between land and ourselves.  I rigged a second stern light for Falcon to steer by and off we went into the night, heading for the infamous Cabo Corrientes.  We did not have jack lines rigged, harnesses out, or everything properly stowed but out we went.

Cabo Corrientes, once you get around it, you are in Banderas Bay

We had a good weather window and the seas, while not calm, were not boisterously rough as is typical.  After putting in a couple of GPS waypoints to steer to we set the auto pilot and motored on.  About one hour out when we had gained our five mile offing (from shore) we were preparing to turn further north and saw the green bow light of an approaching boat on a converging course coming up from the south.  According to navigation rules, I had the right of way as did Falcon behind us.  But the oncoming boat didn’t slow or change course.  So when my radar showed them a quarter mile away I throttled back and went to an idle.  Falcon slowed down behind me.  The approaching boat then slowed down but made no move to give way.  So I veered hard to starboard and ran off in the other direction for a while then I cut the engine.  Falcon hailed me on the VHF radio so I went below to answer only to come back on deck to see Falcon cut across my bow.  What a mess at Two AM in the middle of the sea! 

Finally the other boat moved north, with no answer or hail on the VHF and we followed, eventually passing on her starboard.  That’s one bad thing about using the autopilot, you set your course and are loath to change it when prudence would have you keep your distance from any other boat at sea.

After a few hours Connie tried to get some sleep and I took the first watch.  Before sunrise she came on deck and I took my turn below to catch a couple of hours sleep.  Then Connie woke me after sunrise and I took the helm again.  We were still navigating by using waypoints from the cruiser's guidebook. We rounded the cape and made our approach into the beautiful little town of Yelapa at the south side of Banderas Bay.  The anchorage there is not very good but the seas were calm and we were able to get the hook down and our butts into bed for a couple of hours of sleep.

More to come on Yelapa in our next post.