Los Gatos to Isla San Francisco

As we headed south, each day was warmer than the next. Not only were we moving through winter and approaching spring but the latitude was decreasing every day.  Oh so nice to take off the socks.  On the morning of the 13^th we rounded the corner out of Candelaros Chico and deployed for the first time our lightweight geniker sail, pleasantly surprised at how easy it was to hoist with its nylon sock.  Way to go, Nepenthe, give us something that actually works for once. 

Two hours later we doused the sail and motored toward shore near Isla San Cosme, anchoring in 25 feet on a sandy bottom and considerable swell coming down from the north.  Then all four of us piled into the dinghy and motored to shore to find a hot springs that Connie and I had visited eight years ago. 

How nice to be in bathing suits lying in a warm pool in the sun!

 

Three hours later we arrived in Agua Verde getting into a little race with another boat as they tried to beat us into the anchorage. Why does this always happen? Nepenthe won and claimed her spot.  Dropping the dinghy into the water, I paddled around and found some fishermen in a panga cutting up a Mahi Mahi.  When I asked if they had any more, one of the men showed me their fish well chock full of fish.  I motioned them to come visit our boat and soon thereafter we had two big slabs of meat aboard and the bony skeleton as well for Connie to make ceviche out of. 

Bahia Agua Verde faces north and gets the full impact of the swell.  We found that out the next day when we took the dinghy into town and had to execute a surf landing.  I tried to find a place where the surf was less challenging but the whole beach seemed like a mass of crashing foam.  Motoring back and forth just out of reach of the breaking waves, we looked behind us watching the size of the swells and finally after one big one, chose to begin the surf towards the beach.  As we got into shallow water, suddenly a big coamer crept up behind us, and slapped the flat stern of the dinghy, drenching the captain.  We rolled the boat ashore on its new dinghy wheels and set off to explore the village.

Two small tiendas in town provided us with fresh vegetables and fruit plus a chicken for the freezer.   Connie and I then braved the surf and ferried our purchases back out to Nepenthe as Myron and Noreen stayed ashore at Brisa Del Mar, a small thatched roof restaurant with WiFi.  Soon they were head down, noses into the cell phone, lost to Mexico and back in the information world, along with the other customers who were all doing the same.  Funny how when you are in cold wet Washington all you dream about is being at a sunny palapa restaurant with a cold beer in your hand, gazing out upon a white sandy beach without a care in the world.  That’s the challenge… letting go.

Coming back to the beach, the landing was straightforward, the food at Brisa Del Mar was good and everyone caught up on their email and WiFi needs.  By mid afternoon large breakers were crashing ashore on the flat beach as we rolled the dinghy into the surf.  Connie and Noreen got in and sat at the bow while Myron and I pushed from behind.  As waves hit the bow, the women were soaked as they both paddled furiously to get us off the shore.  “Get in.  Get in!” Myron jumped aboard, I did the same and put down the electric motor and punched it full throttle.  Just then a monster wave crashed into us, the bow rose up to meet the wave and in a waterfall of liquid we launched over the top and fell into the trough, then powered on out into deeper water where we shivered our way back to Nepenthe to find some dry clothes. 

Our boat was finally looking like a true Mexico cruising vessel.  The lifelines were full of salty, wet clothes and towels.  There was sand on the deck and cockpit and the gunnels smelled of fish.

The next day we sailed most of the way to Puerto Los Gatos then anchored and went ashore for an amazing time hiking around the red rock formations.   

 

Massive rocks at Los Gatos look like big fish laid out on the beach.

The next morning we prepped the boat and sailed her off the anchor in light winds that became strong westerlies soon thereafter, making it necessary to reduce sail.  To do so, we first turned downwind to blanket the jib with the main and were able to get it rolled up about halfway.  Then, back on a close reach, with the jib driving us to windward, we loosened the main sheet, tightened the topping lift, and let the main flog a bit as we tucked two reefs in the main, all without turning on the engine.  That went well.  Later, we rolled up the jib a little bit more as the winds built to 15 to 18 knots.  This was the most wind we’ve had Nepenthe in and she sailed well with a couple of scraps of sail.  Later, the wind moderated a bit and we were able to put more canvas up, arriving in San Evaristo at three PM after a successful 6 hour sail and 26 nautical miles.

Anchor down, dinghy in the water, electric motor mounted.  Noreen and Myron took the dinghy to shore to visit the tienda and a little restaurant.  By the time they returned it was dark and the wind was howling from the West, coming overland from the Pacific Ocean.  We sailed off the anchor again the next morning and entered the San Jose Canal between Isla San Jose and the Baja.  This area funnels the wind and waves from the north and can kick up quite a mess down around San Evaristo.  Soon we were bouncing up and down with a jib out halfway and no main but still maintaining over four knots speed.  Because of the sea state, we headed toward the sheltered anchorage of Isla San Francisco.  Connie took the wheel and in true Connie form, opted to run out the full genoa and soon we were galloping down the sea, pots and pans crashing below and everything in the cabinets tossing themselves back and forth. 

I left the crew to run the boat and laid down to read, every once in a while having to steady myself to keep from getting tossed onto the floor.  Sooner than we thought, we rounded the corner into the beautiful crescent bay on the south side of Isla San Francisco.   After dropping the hook in the northwest corner, we were shouted at by a loudspeaker on a big white catamaran, “ You are over our anchor.  I’ve got 200 feet of chain out.”   First of all, I thought we were more than 200 feet from that boat.  Second of all, why did he have 200 feet of chain out in 15 feet of water?  Oh well.  We brought the anchor up and moved closer to the beach before resetting.  

 

With lots of wind but no swell and little wave action, the anchorage was perfect for us to use to shelter in for the next few days as we waited out another period of strong north winds.  I clocked 20 knots of wind that afternoon while reading in the cockpit.  The National Geographic ship “Explorer” was in the bay and we watched her crew ferrying guests to and from the beach all day.  Everyone on our boat got to hike around to our heart’s content and, all in all, it was a very good two days.  

 

Salt Ponds

The Curse of Danzante Reef / Carnage at Caleta Candeleros Chico

 

 

San Juanico, what an amazing anchorage.   Two large monoliths of rock dominate the northern anchorage.  The eastern one is a succession of spires.  The western is a huge square block tilting a bit to the side, its top dotted with tall single cacti.  We call it the birthday cake because it looks like you pulled it out of the oven and one side fell a bit and stuck candles in it anyway...  Between these two monoliths is the sweet spot of the anchorage.  On shore are sandy beaches.  A catamaran can anchor in the shallow head of the bay near the beach.  Then between the monoliths is room for another boat or two in 20 feet of water and further out one or two more in 25 to 30.  Around the other side there is room for a half dozen more. 

The north anchorage at San Juanico is protected from waves and swell when the northerly wind is blowing down the Baja.  When the wind “out there” is blowing at 20 to 25 knots, the wind in the bay can be blowing at 15 to 20 knots as it runs across a low spot in the land.  In this part of the sea there is a hundred miles of fetch for the wind and waves to build as they head south.  Further down the coast, where there are more islands to break up the northerly wind and waves, the sea is calmer and the winds concentrate in the center of the sea and are lighter on the sides of the sea. 

We hope as we travel south and stay close to shore we will find relief from the strong northerlies.  In the meantime, we take care to move about in the morning when the wind is lighter and to make sure we have a solid set on the anchor with plenty of scope on the rode to keep our anchor from pulling free during the night.

Being the last boat to arrive, we were the ones furthest from the beach, anchored in about 25 feet on a sand bottom.  In the late afternoon, when driving the dinghy from the beach to the boat, the wind was up but the waves were tiny building to medium then building to about a foot when we finally reached the boat.  One minute all is calm then as we approach the boat, and turn upwind toward the boarding ladder, the waves start crashing over the bow of the dinghy and we get soaked trying to get aboard.  We quickly get the motor off the dinghy and haul the little boat aboard and the wind howls around us. 

Nepenthe yaws first to the starboard, showing her port side to the wind.  She comes up short on the anchor chain, heels over a bit, then shakes it off and points into the wind again only to fall off to port, showing her port side to the wind to come up short again.  In high winds, this goes on and on until the sun sets and the wind calms down. 

This area of the Sea of Cortez is constantly battered by the north wind in winter.  After looking at various wind models we decided that as soon as the winds moderate, we’d head south.  Meanwhile we were able to get to shore to do a couple of hikes, one north to the next bay and another inland to a little homestead with mules, goats, chickens, peacocks, and a turkey.  The family has some greenhouses out back and sells produce to people camping on the beach and boaters anchored in the Bahia.  

 

 

We decided to take the next calm(ish) morning and run south to Isla Coronados, 20 NM.  We were concerned that the engine was not starting easily and thought we had a fuel problem and sure enough, that morning we had to crank the engine for quite a while before it caught and ran.  Motoring out of the bay we soon ran into large swells coming down from the north but not much wind.  The strong winds that blew most of last week left the sea state quite confused.  With the boat tossing about, the headsail would not stay full so we ran under bare poles with the engine pushing us at about five knots.  At the western anchorage of Isla Coronados we saw the sailboat Krishelle at anchor and it seemed she was bucking about in the swell, so we proceeded through the channel around to the south side of the island and anchored a few hundred yards off the shore in about 25 feet of water with 150 feet of chain out.  

As the wind built, we took the dinghy ashore, pulled her up on the sandy beach, and started hiking towards the volcano.  After an hour and a half or so we had attained the ridge of a rocky spine within sight of the summit approach, the wind was howling.  We were leaning into it to keep our balance. Wow, these northers are strong.  I’m glad we anchored in the lee of the island.

Volcano doesn't look very high in this shot but it certainly is a long slog.

 

The fun factor falling quickly, Connie and I decided to backtrack.  Noreen and Myron pushed forward.  Back at the landing we found other cruisers in their dinghies and had some good conversations, nice to talk to people with much in common.   Later, Noreen showed up and soon after that, Myron arrived.  He’d made it to the top. She’d made it to the final scree slope.  Connie and I had made it to the top many years ago and had been there and done that.  I remember it was a long hot slog on that spring day back in 2013.

The next day the norther blew incessantly all day long so we stayed put. We had a good cell signal from Loreto so we downloaded the manual for the engine and read it thoroughly.  It mentioned that the pre heater (glow plugs) should be used in cool and cold temperatures.  I turned the ignition to the left to activate the heater and counted to five before trying to start it and, vualah! the engine cranked right up.  Back in San Carlos, when I asked Omar about using the preheater he said it was not necessary.  The manual said otherwise.  Could it be that we were not having fuel problems and that we merely needed more heat for the compression to ignite the fuel?

 

'That next morning was calm so we decided to hightail it south to Puerto Escondido.  With the preheat, the engine fired right up and off we went south down the wide channel between Loreto and Isla Carmen.  We tried flying the jib but again, the sea state would not cooperate and there was absolutely no wind.  The motor pushed us south at 6 knots.  Later the wind came up a little…. Right on the nose of course, from the south.  About four hours later we rounded the corner into Puerto Escondido, a natural harbor with a world class marina and four huge power yachts tied up at the big outer dock.  We found a yellow mooring ball, hooked it, and took the dinghy into the dock to pay the bill.  A dollar a foot for a mooring ball seemed a bit steep but hey, we’d been on the water now for a week without spending any money so why not?

On a mooring ball in Puerto Escondido

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

We were last here in May of 2014 on Traveler without a working engine.  Back then, Puerto Escondido was a sad and strange place with crumbling infrastructure and not much of a future.  See our blog entry from 8 years ago here….

 

But now… the upscale marina complex, now privately owned, has a small grocery store where we found fresh veggies and ordered a flat of eggs for the next day.  The rooftop café has good pizza and nice wine so we spent our pesos with the crème of society and felt pretty swell. 

 

The Tabor Canyon, (Steinbeck), a 3km walk from the marina was a nice diversion; an arroyo with large rocks that become boulders and eventually sheer walls requiring a short rope climb up to where the water would fall during summer monsoons into refreshing blue pools. Still, the shallow puddles remaining provide some water for an occasional dragonfly, and under the rocks you could hear the trickling sound of a once and soon to be again raging river. After walking the donkey tracks along the side of highway 12 back to the marina we had hot showers! Making use of the internet, Noreen and Myron found airline tickets to take them from LaPaz back to San Carlos at the end of the month.  On the morning of the 10^th, we called ahead to the fuel dock to see if it was clear for us to come in.  Then we prepped the boat, let loose of the mooring ball, and powered in to take on diesel fuel and fresh potable water.  

The fuel attendant told us about the super yachts tied on the outer dock, the insane amount of fuel they take on, requiring the marina to bring in extra tanker trucks. The crew works for two weeks getting the yachts ready for the owner who may or may not show up soon.  The super yacht dock is specially built with power and fuel lines to service the massive ships.  Moonstone was one of the big yachts and it had a support vessel, Shadow, of almost the same size that was filled with jet skis, and smaller power vessels on deck with a massive crane to move them into the water.   The 20 person crew was working tirelessly getting the two ships ready for departure.  On the way out of the harbor we yelled over to one of the crew, “You should come with us.”  He replied, “I wish I could, “and turned back to his work scrubbing the deck and shining the chrome.

Dead flat water found us heading south again towards Caleta Candeleros Chico, a small cove only 10 NM south of Puerto Escondido. We passed by the larger Bahia Candeleros where back in 2014 we had to sail in after losing our engine navigating through Danzante Reef.  Back then, our rebuilt Perkins 4108 started making clunking noises as we approached the break in the reef;  these things happen at the most inopportune moments it seems.  The crankshaft was coming apart and that was the end of that engine...  That experience has left a scar on my psyche and now I fear this particular area of the Baja, thinking it will bring nothing but bad luck.

As for little Caleta Candeleros Chico,  Connie and I had been there many years ago and remembered it as feeling quite wild and quiet with lots of sea life.  We found our way into the tight entrance and anchored in a sandy bottom, having the place to ourselves.   Right away, the dinghy went into the water.  Right away the paddleboards were inflated.  Soon we were paddling around a rocky islet and seeing striped fish, sea urchins, and sea stars in the rocky shallows.  

I was rowing the dinghy around as Connie and Noreen had the paddle boards out for a spin.  As I came around the rocky corner I looked ahead and saw Noreen lying prone on the paddle board, her hat shading her face, floating in the clear blue water, in the sun.  Behind me, out on the point, Connie was also lying on her board, gently drifting into the cove.  Now, this is what we came here for.

Meanwhile, in the bottom of the refrigerator, the whole chicken we bought a week ago was getting stinky.   I came aboard, rummaged around and pulled her out, cut open the package and smelled the stink.  Overboard the chicken went.   Later, when we were pulling up the dinghy, the gang was peering into the clear water trying to make out what they were seeing lying on the sandy bottom.  It was our chicken, perched on the sandy bottom, waiting for the crabs; chicken of the sea…

Standing on the bow, I could look down into 20 foot of clear water and clearly see the anchor chain looping around the sandy bottom and the anchor itself with one of its flukes dug into the sand.   A group of striped fish lurked in the shadow of Nepenthe and a half dozen puffer fish were nosing the anchor chain.

Later, after dinner in the fading light, some pangas came into the bay and the bright orange and lime green clad fishermen hauled out big manta rays from the boat and tossed them on the beach where they cleaned them with machetes, tossing the center parts and guts into the water and the meaty wings into tubs before zooming off into the darkness. We later learned that these fishermen had caught turtles, manta rays, and hammerhead sharks in their nets and had come by this remote bay to process the catch out of sight of the authorities.  

Manta ray carcasses

 

The next morning the carcasses were exposed at low tide and the seagulls and turkey buzzards were having a feast.  The frigate birds swooped around stealing food from everyone while the pelicans dived for the little fish that were attracted to all the excitement.  The crew is all in agreement.  Despite the carnage, we like this place. I think we’ll stay here another day.

 

And we did. And we enjoyed another peaceful day. And the poachers came back at dusk with another 40 murdered manta rays and cut them up on the beach.

 

The next morning after an orange sunrise, Connie bought a fish off of an old guy and grandson in a panga.  We cleaned it on the beach then prepped the boat for departure. Myron took the wheel and Noreen pulled up the anchor and we headed out into deep water.  Connie popped her head up, “Something does not sound right down here.”

I looked into the engine compartment and saw a bit of water dripping from a raw water hose and below that, I could see the raw water pump on the front of the engine flopping side to side as if it was coming loose from where it is attached to the pulley and crankshaft. “Myron, turn the boat around. We’re going  back in to anchor.”  He turned the boat around and Connie went to the bow to get the anchor ready.  Slowly we crept back in and dropped the hook in 25 feet.  The curse of Danzante Reef had struck again!

All day long Myron and I worked on the raw water pump.  At first we thought the bracket was faulty so we re-engineered it to hold better.  After starting the engine we realized that the pump was still flopping around.  Then we took everything apart again and removed the impeller.  Then we attacked the four rusty bolts that held the coupler to the flywheel pulley and after copious amounts of WD-40 got those off to finally see the problem.  The coupler has a hole with a keyway that accepts the water pump shaft that has its own keyway.  That key was worn down and loose and had wallowed out the coupler keyway so the whole thing was a sloppy fit. We needed a new coupler and key. 

We found a spare key in a toolbox and cut it to size and filed it down to make it fit, reassembled the whole thing and started the engine.  In seconds, the water pump wallowed its way off the coupler.  Again, we disassembled everything. Connie pulled out the accordion, Noreen pulled out a book.  Myron and I set about re-engineering the bracket that holds the pump from rotating, we found a brass threaded plug and screwed it in then using seizing wire, wired the thing together to prevent the water pump from moving forward.  Then we took a clothes hanger, ( yes, a wire clothes hanger ) and secured the other side of the pump so there was no way that water pump could walk its way off that coupler. By that time it was happy hour so we tested our work and called it good for the day. Another night in paradise.

Rounding the corner at Candeleros Chico.  This rock is called "The hand of God".  See the hand?

The next morning we tested everything and decided that we’d just take it a day at a time and head south towards la Paz.  If our bailing wire solution would hold out for a week, then we’d be in la Paz where we could order a new coupler or maybe have one made at a local machine shop.  With trepidation we rounded the corner at Bahia Candeleros Chico and headed south towards Bahia Agua Verde.   Maybe, just maybe, the Curse of Danzante Reef was finally giving us a break.

Landfall at San Juanico

 

Landfall on the south beach at Bahia San Juanico

It was Friday January 28, and we’d been in San Carlos, Sonora, Mexico for 100 long days.  We felt that it was darn time we went to sea.  Not sure Nepenthe was, but, boy howdy, we were ready.  We’d replaced or repaired almost everything that could or did break.   Nepenthe had successfully left the marina and returned safely three times, not a very extensive shake down but it would just have to do.  The engine was running properly (for now).  The sails seemed to be fine (for now).  The standing rigging and running rigging were holding their own.  We had refrigeration and a working stove.  What we didn’t have is a working autopilot. But we did have a wind vane steering system that appeared to be set up properly.

Noreen and Myron on their 20 foot Pacific Seacraft Flicka, Sweethaven,  were finishing up last minute projects and we agreed to take the next weather window opportunity for both boats to cross over together to the west side of the Gulfo de California, an overnight passage of 90 nautical miles.

While in the midst of provisioning and doing last minute checks, the crew on Sweethaven found a thru hull fitting under the port side berth that was weeping seawater through the seal.   A leak around the bronze base could indicate a weakness in the fiberglass/adhesive joint.  Being prudent sailors, they decided to scrap their plans to cross over with us.  The best course of action was to haul out the vessel and repair or replace some or all the seacock fittings.  This was a huge disappointment to everyone and seemed like a repeat of some of the problems we’d had with Nepenthe’s thru hulls. 

Noreen came over to break the news to us and after hearing her story and seeing how upset she was, my suggestion was that she should have a stiff drink.  Ever more practical, Connie suggested that she and Myron just pack up all their stuff, come aboard Nepenthe, and cross the sea with us. Connie looked at me and said, “What do you think?” Her eyebrow went up.  Noreen gave me a look of despair tinged with a glimmer of hope.  It took two seconds then I was sold on the prospect of inviting them aboard.

Then my mind started tallying up the benefits of having more crew.  Capt. Scott would not have to stay up half the night hand steering (no autopilot) his six hour shift on the crossing. We could split it up into four shifts.  Capt. Scott would now have a Bosn’s mate to haul on halyards, reef the main, and hoist the dinghy on deck.  Capt. Scott would have another experienced navigator on board to help keep us on track and off the rocks.  More importantly, Capt. Scott could lounge on deck while the extra crew did half the cooking and cleaning.    After the invite, Noreen insisted that we sleep on the decision and wait until the morning.

Saturday, Noreen and Myron came over and we signed them onto the crew roster then all four of us set out on a busy schedule to arrange all necessary dunnage from Sweethaven to be parceled, packed, and transported to Nepenthe where we were kept busy reorganizing our storage to accommodate more gear and provisions.  Myron kept wheeling over crates of provisions and Connie kept stuffing things in cubby holes.  I spent time figuring out the Fleming wind vane steering mechanism and running all sorts of lines and pulleys.  We hoisted the main sail multiple times, getting the reefing lines set properly.  The dinghy came on deck and we made ready to sail.

Monday, the 31st, little Sweethaven, robbed of her provisions was motored to the landing, hauled out of the water with a big crane, and set on her trailer.  She was towed to the storage yard and sadly left on her own to think about her weeping thru hull fitting.  Poor Sweethaven, abandoned and forlorn.

That same Monday, the last day we had reservations at the marina, Scott and Connie were heading up to the restrooms (in a hurry) only to find the gate locked and their key cards inactive.  What the heck?  We found fellow B dock boaters to get us through the gates then I went to the office to pay our bill and complain about them turning off our card access eight hours before we were scheduled to leave.   “Sorry sir, it’s the way the system works.”    Evidently, marina management has decided that losing your key card access will motivate you to come to the office to pay the bill. 

Myron, Noreen, Scott

 

Clearly it was time for us to leave the dock, leave the overly structured environment where if you leave your dinghy on the dock for ten minutes a guard will come make you move it.  If your little boat dog gets off leash on the dock then it’s a $100 fine.   No sanding, no painting, no grinding, no fun.  On the other hand we got free loud music Thursday through Sunday nights from Hammerhead’s Bar in the marina complex.

After a whirlwind of activity, the crew of Sweenhaven joined the crew of Nepenthe.  We reviewed halyards and reefing lines and emergency procedures.  By this time it was 2 PM and the afternoon winds where building from the west, roaring through the hills and funneling directly to our slip on B dock.  We were lucky enough to have a slip with dock fingers on both sides of the boat.  We threw off the dock lines and I started to drive forward out of the slip.  The wind was 10 degrees off our starboard bow so as I tried to exit the slip, the wind caught the bow of the boat and pushed it into the port side pylon. Myron was wrestling with the bow line that had the full force of the wind and the full weight of Nepenthe on it. 

 I didn’t want to exit to port, otherwise I could have just accelerated out of the slip.  To port was the parking lot. To starboard was the open fairway.  Noreen was pushing off with all her might and Connie was on the dock pulling the bow line for all she was worth.  I bumped her back into the slip to try again. Second attempt, same thing.  On the third attempt we got her bow just to the right of the wind stream and I gunned the engine and we blasted out of the slip, leaving behind white paint on the pylons.  Oh my gosh, we were finally escaping the grip of San Carlos.

 By that time the sea state was in white caps and the wind was whistling through the rigging.  I clinched my teeth and sphincter and hoped the engine didn’t die on me while plunging out of a tight marina flanked with million dollar boats.  Out in the bay I worked her windward.  Now at least if the engine failed, we could drop an anchor and hope for the best.  But the engine didn’t fail and we made it out of the harbor.  Connie and crew wrestled the mainsail off the boom and raised it with two reefs in place.  Then we rolled out the genoa halfway, switched off the engine and started sailing around the point.  

We finally made it out to sea

Once the full force of the afternoon breeze hit us we were heeled over fairly nicely and taking three foot rollers on the starboard bow.  After letting the mainsheet out, she came more upright but still had quite a bit of weather helm.  While the boat was rigged for three reefs in the main, this current mainsail only had two reefs installed.  Right off the bat we were wishing we had that third reef.   I hand sailed for the first hour and the sea quietened down a little bit as we made six knots heading south at 180 degrees magnetic.

Our first choice of a landfall had been Bahia Concepcion as it was the shortest crossing at 78 nautical miles.   At this time of the year the normal wind pattern in the Sea is for strong northerlies with infrequent calms that last a day or two.  We had a prediction of two relatively calm days followed by a week of high winds.  Did we want to be trapped in Bahia Concepcion for a week or should be try to run south a bit more.  We choose to add another 12 miles to our route and make our landfall 45 miles further down the coast at San Juanico.  If this is confusing ( how adding 12 miles will take us 45 miles further south) then you need to review some geometry of vectors and triangles.

I turned the helm over to the first mate… Connie.    We tried using the Fleming wind vane to steer the boat but with the wind on the stern quarter, and too much weather helm, it was difficult for it to keep a course.  We turned over the helm to Noreen and Myron at 6 PM and grabbed a quick snack as we sailed into the darkness.  They took the first two, three hour shifts: 6 to 9 and 9 to midnight and Connie and I took the opportunity to lie down to rest up for our early morning shifts.  Connie took the helm at midnight and an exhausted Noreen and Myron flopped down to sleep.  With the sea state somewhat settled and the wind calmed, Connie was able to convince the Fleming vane to do the work as she watched it perform until 3 in the morning when I woke to the sound of the jib being rolled up.  By this time the wind had completely dropped and it was time to motor.  I took my shift and motored into the night toward Bahia San Juanico, getting startled by the morning star ( a planet ) rising on the port side.  I thought it was a boat headed our way or an island.  After checking the chart I proceeded south and watched the dawn approach in the east.  By sunrise, Connie was back on deck and she sent me below for a nap as she and the rest of the crew motored to the entrance to the bay.  At 10 AM we dropped the anchor in the southern portion of the bay and put out 120 feet of chain in 17 feet of water on a sandy bottom.  Breakfast then naps for all.  We had a lazy day of it, getting our wits together after a rough night. 

Hiking the dirt road above the northern anchorage at Bahia San Juanico

 

The next morning, refreshed and energized, we launched the dinghy, mounted the little electric motor and made our way to the beach.  What a gorgeous place!  Rocky outcroppings, sandy beaches, blue sky and clear blue/green water. This is what the doctor ordered. This is why we labored for three months getting the boat ready. We had arrived.

After our hike the north wind started up, as we knew it would.  We were a little late getting the dinghy launched from the beach so we had a wet slog back to the boat.  It’s amazing just how fast the wind can come up and how fast a calm bay can turn into a churning confusion of white capped waves.  Our south anchorage at Bahia San Juanico was well protected from the southerly wind but certainly not from the north wind.  Now we were on a lee shore and needed to move a mile north to that protected anchorage.

Connie turned on the windlass and the depth sounder and I cranked the engine.  It did not start.  I cranked again.  Nope. Here we were on a lee shore and a five day howling norther on the way.  All those big smiles turned to frowns. 

We previously had a problem with the engine not being able to maintain its fuel supply without the auxiliary electric fuel pump running but Omar finally got the system working.  Or at least we thought he did.  Remembering that, I popped down below and turned on the fuel pump, hoping it would prime the engine.  I could hear the pump come up to pressure. Then I tried the starter again and finally she fired up.  Whew!  Let’s get off this lee shore.

With Connie on the bow directing me at the helm, we ran up to the anchor and brought in 120 foot of chain with a big fat 70 pound plow anchor attached.  Into the spray we plunged and headed north toward a little flock of six other sailboats anchored there.  We found a spot in 20 feet with a sand bottom and set the anchor with 150 feet of chain out.  With the anchor roller about five feet above the water our total depth was 25 feet.  That’s a ratio of 6 to 1, which is pretty conservative for an all chain rode.  We felt safe.

Noreen and Myron had brought along an InReach device that uses a satellite network to provide text based communications.  They set about figuring out how that thing worked and soon had a weather forecast for the next three days.  At least three days of 15 to 20 knot winds from the north.  Looks like we’re staying put for a while.

Note: Not a lot of pictures in this blog entry.  We've got them on various devices but are having problems getting them transferred here.  So you get what you get... and don't pitch a fit.   SV