South from Honeymoon Cove

 Tuesday April 9 after a leasurely breakfast in Honeymoon Cove we started to prep the boat for departure.  I had an old container that I was rinsing out and I left it with some fresh water on the lid out in the cockpit.  Going back out to prep the deck we were faced with hundreds of bees having a bee party with our precious bit of fresh water.  Out here in the desert and salt water environment, fresh water is hard to come by for those poor bees.  Clearly we weren't going anywhere with a hundred bees on board. 

Like many situations, the best course of action is to wait and see.  Sure enough, when all that couple of ounces of fresh water was gone, the bees flew away to the other anchored boats to harass them for some elusive fresh water.

Up anchor and away from the anchorage, bee-less, we rolled out the jib and headed south.  Out in deep water, away from everything, I reluctantly turned on the bilge pump and got rid of most of the water/diesel mixture that was aboard.  We poured  soap into the bilge, added more water, let is slosh around for a while, then pumped it out again. 

We sailed by Bahia Candeleros and around the corner, found Candeloros Chico where we dropped anchor and had lunch.  The wind was very slight. The swell was from the east and building.  After lunch we continued south.  3.5 hours later we pulled into the anchorage at Agua Verde after motoring through rough seas with a southeast wind right on the nose.  We wonder when we'll catch a break and get wind in the direction that we actually want to go. 

Agua Verde has a western nook that is protected from swell.  Everyone knows that, so everyone piles into that little nook.  We tried to find a spot but were forced to retreat.  I almost squeezed us into a space but the skipper of the next boat over stood with hands on hips glaring at us until we left.  It rocked and rolled all night.

The next morning I was paying attention.  Sure enough, somebody would be leaving, and they did.  Connie got the anchor up toot suite and we hustled into the nook to snag the very best spot in the whole bay.  We were to remain there for another two days, rewarding ourselves with a fantastic anchorage, a long hike in the desert, a few visits to the little store in the tiny village, and a few visits to Briesa del Mar restaurant, a thatched roof, sand floor, plastic chair establishment that had Elon Musk's Starlink internet service.

Safari Explorer

We watched the huge Safari Explorer ship come in for the day to disgorge it's passengers to the beach where the crew had set up 54 folding chairs for them to sit in.  Brightly colored plastic kayaks appeared and a dozen sleepy horses arrived and the group of "explorers" took turns paddling and riding and hiking, being ferried back and forth from the mother ship in large black Zodiacs piloted by blue shirted crew.  The ship arrived at 6 AM and departed at 6 PM.


    

  

As I said, we visited the tienda for supplies but found that the delivery of fresh food was tomorrow.  Tomorrow came and we went back but was told the delivery would be later, maybe by 5:00 PM.  At 5:30 we arrived to find fresh tomatoes, avocados, bacon, eggs, and frozen chicken thighs.   How delightful!

After spending time in the well sheltered anchorage of Agua Verde we wern't expecting much wind and waves but again, the swell came up from the south and we were forced to motor down to Puerto Los Gatos where we tucked ourselves between a couple of rock reefs and found a sweet spot to spend the night.  We took the dinghy ashore and hiked the wonderful red rock formations, gathering sea shells and enjoying the beach.  A lovely spot.

 
    

Butt Crack Rock Formation at Los Gatos

 

Having learned our lesson on how the south wind comes up mid day, we left Los Gatos at 6 AM and had a pleasant but windless passage south to Bahia Amortajada making 32 nautical miles south in 6 hours.   We were last in Bahia Amortajada way back in 2010 when Connie and I got a few friends together to rent a Morgan OutIsland named SeaScape out of LaPaz for a week.  Remembering that time, we took the dinghy up the little river into the estuary to see the mangroves and the birds.  It was different than we remembered.  Not so very special at all.  I think that back in 2010 we were all very excited to be in this exotic place and see this strange and beautiful landscape.  Good memories then and good memories now.  Just different.

    


We followed a panga with two fisherment out of the estuary.  They were fishing with throw nets, something it is always a delight to witness.  Later, back on board, dinner in the cockpit, sun dipping below the horizon, the no-see-ems arrived.  We put up the screens, did some reading and at bedtime our millions of little friends decided it was time for their dinner.

 

 

Smack, curse, smack, dive under the covers, get too hot, come out of the covers.  The almost invisible little bugs swarmed us all night.  Sleepless and bleary, we pulled up the anchor at sunrise and headed out into the sea with all the hatches open and the fans on high.  We went through the boat flapping towels, trying to chase the little buggers off the boat.

By 9:00 AM we were down around the corner dropping anchor at the beautiful Isla San Francisco.  There we spied a familiar boat named Gaia: Deseree and Damon from Colorado.  

Gaia

After catching some sleep and shaking off the bug attack nightmare, we invited some folks over for sundowners.  Deseree and Damon.  John and Donna on Camanarah.  David and Eileen on Striker.  Eight people in the cockpit, the most yet and plenty of room.  We told stories, caught up on the latest gossip about marinas and anchorages, and just plain enjoyed being with like minded people living this crazy life on the waters of pacific Mexico.

It seems like everyone but us has a Starlink antennae aboard.  When I pull up our internet connections I see all the boat names around us.  This is so very different that it was ten years ago when people used HAM radios and checked into the net each morning to get their weather reports.  We have a little Garmin InReach gizmo that I can get rudementary weather on and we've been making do with that little bit of information.  I suppose we'll have to join the Starlink club next season.  Having multiple wind and wave prediction models available sure would make our daily route planning easier and safer.  But then again, we'd be exposed to endless Netflix, YouTube, and news sites.  One of the benefits of cruising down here is getting away from all that noise.

After consulting our neighbors who had been viewing WindyTY online, we decided it was best to head south in the morning before another two day norther arrived.  Monday, April 15 we left under power but had the sails up when the wind filled one hour later.  Wind and waves built as we sailed dead down wind, arriving four hours later off Isla Partida doing six knots in three foot seas.  Yahoo!
Anchored securely in the blue waters of Caleta Partida we let the norther build and blow, staying two nights.  Connie got the paddle board out and noodled around the shoreline.  I spent the day making lists and documenting things I want to remember next year. 

  

 

Night Crossing

 All winter long and into the spring the northers blow down the Sea of Cortez.  These wind events last a few days or a week, often following each other back to back so that the seas don't have time to calm.  The current norther has blown itself out and the wind had died.  But the seas are still high.  Consulting the wind and wave prediction models we see that the gap between this last norther and the next is only about 48 hours.

That's a problem because our window of opportunity is tight.  
We decide to wait 24 hours for the seas to calm, then to use the next 18 hours for our crossing, and have 6 hours (in the bank)just in case.   

In the bay at San Carlos, we waited until 4 PM then pulled up the anchor and motored out of the bay, heading directly south.  Our target: Isla Coronado.  The closest crossing from San Carlos is a shorter 13 hour run directly west to Punta Chivato.  But by adding 6 hours, we make our landfall 75 miles further south of Chivato, saving two or three days of sailing later. And with the next norther coming in, we will have to hide out for a couple of days somewhere.  

We knew that the southern anchorage of Isla Cornado will give us good protection from the strong north winds and the big seas that accompany them. The south anchorage looks north right at the tall volcanic peak that helps block the wind. We will be fine there for a few days.

  

Starlink Rocket Launch

 

An hour away from the San Carlos anchorage we found a one foot swell at four seconds from the northwest.  Now a one foot swell does not sound like much but when you are motoring in light to no winds, a swell off the stern quarter rocks the boat in an endless corkscrew manner making it difficult to eat, drink, use the head.
 
By sunset the northwest swell abated somewhat and a second, larger wave pattern approached from the southeast.  Now we had a corkscrew with a twist.  Connie took a three hour shift from six to nine.  I took a three hour shift from nine to midnight.  We raised the main with two reefs, thinking we might be able to sail but the wind shifted until it was right on the nose.  We kept the engine roaring along at 2000 RPM making about six knots directly south. The movement of the boat and the roar of the engine made sleeping mostly impossible.
      
Connie took over at midnight and I went below to toss and turn the rest of the night.  She's such a good night passage mate!  She can just keep going and keep going.  I came on deck at 5 AM to see the sliver of a moon rising in the east.  Connie hit the bed.  Soon the sun rose and we found ourselves dancing over the chop, wind on the nose, but making 6.5 knots over ground. To the west I could see the big nose of Punta Pulpito and the lovely bay of Caleta San Juanico.   As Isla Coronado approached we sat across from each other in the cockpit, bleary eyed and bone sore from bouncing around all night.  I'm thinking "I'm too old for this staying up all night stuff."

We made our way through a bevy of panga fishermen to the south side of the island and nosed toward the beach into 20 feet over sand and dropped 120 feet of anchor rode.  The wind continued from the south but we knew that soon, the norther would begin and we'd be facing land and the wind that was able to run across the island and its volcanic peak.  

 

Isla Coronado

 

Boom... I went down face first on the bed and slept until afternoon.  That evening, sure enough, the norther started right up and we could feel 20 to 25 knot gusts pushing Nepenthe from side to side.  However, with our nose only 200 feet off the beach, the waves were inconsequential.

Thus we sat for 48 hours resting, eating, writing, playing music, and getting snippits of cell coverage from the nearby town of Loreto.

We saw a turtle.  We saw pelicans diving for fish. We saw other boats taking refuge from the wind.  We saw a very large yacht come shelter alongside us with a half dozen crew in matching outfits.

Monday morning April 8 we'd had enough of the leisurely life so we headed south and transited the wide passage between Loreto and Isla Carmen, motoring slowly in the light southerly.  Just outside of Puerto Escondido a Lagoon 44 catamaran passed us and entered the harbor.  We made our way into the anchorage and marina complex and headed to the fuel dock where the Lagoon had arrived minutes before.  So we sat, we floated, we hovered, we waited.

   

Gas dock at Puerto Escondido


I cannot tell you how many times we've been passed on the way into a harbor, anchorage, or marina and see the other boat get the last spot or the one spot we were after.  All of a sudden it is a race.  Humans!

On the way into Puerto Escondido everything got a little quiet and I kept taking off my sunglasses wondering why I didn't really need them on this sunny morning.  It was 11:30 AM and the full solar eclipse was happening a hundred miles to our south.

After filling with 70 liters of diesel and 70 liters of water we were on our way, crossing over to Isla Danzante with the jib flying.  As we approached the Honeymoon Cove anchorage one boat came in from the north and another came in from the south and they both swarmed into the little anchorage.  There are only three spots in Honeymoon Cove.  There were two boats in there already so it looked like we were going to get skunked again.  However, those two boats must have been buddy-boating together because they popped right back out and headed south towards the larger anchorage at Los Candeleros.   We snagged the last tight little spot in the south lobe of the bay, dropping the anchor in 30 feet, running out 120 feet of chain and coming to a stop about 100 ft from rock walls on two sides.  Nice.

   

After our big 18 hour run from San Carlos while we were anchored in the lee of Isla Coronado, we had found a loose motor mount and what appeared to be a liter of coolant in the bilge.  I tightened the mount and cleaned up the coolant and checked all the hose clamps, calling it good.

After arriving in Honeymoon Cove I opened up the engine compartment again and again found a liter of yellow liquid in a nook of the upper bilge on the starboard side of the engine.  Connie said, "That smells like diesel to me."  Yep, I was wrong.  We didn't have a coolant leak, we had a diesel leak.  Up came the flooboards.  I got on my work clothes and wormed my way down next to the engine to clean up the mess.  Then using paper towels I tried to find the source, wiping surfaces and hoses.  The #1 injector has a little hose that connects to the return fuel line.  When I squeezed that little hose, diesel came through the outer layer of rubber.  Our fuel leak was thankfully not on the supply side but on the return side.  We were running fuel through the injectors and some of the returning fuel was slowly dripping down the side of the engine, pooling in a spot, then making its way into the bilge.  This would explain our increased fuel usage.  

When rebuilding an engine, it is best to replace ALL of the hoses.  That's the tip I'll give to Garth and Beto when we get back to San Carlos.   I found a section of hose already in use elsewhere on the engine that was the right diameter and by rerouting it was able to gain about six inches of hose that I could cut off and use to make our repair.  Stinking of diesel, I soon finished.  Connie was ever present, giving advice, handing me tools, and using Murphy's Oil soap to clean up the mess.  We ran the engine to test the repair and all seems well. Unfortunately, we were stuck with an unknown amount of diesel fuel in our bilge.

I've never been so intimately involved in the wires, hoses, belts, nuts and bolts of a marine diesel.  I guess it's good for me to have that close relationship.   But I already have one close relationship, and that's with my wife.  And that's all that I need, thank you.

Our new CPT autopilot ran flawlessly the entire trip

Waiting out the wind, Waiting on the work

This one's from Connie: 

In the work yard sitting on the poop deck, Palo Verde blooming , birds, brown with creamy colored breasts and long tails are chattering away in the tree behind us, overlooking the sewage marsh. It's beautiful,really, until you know what's created it...Cranes and ducks visit, and little white ones, swallows, so many and I don't know what they are, but a birder would be in heaven, I think. With the Cerras las Tetas de Cabras in the distance, organ pipe cactus on the foot hills and tall grasses growing in the swampy water, it's quite verdant for the Sonoran desert. Two horses graze, lifting their heads to check you out.

It's coming up on the full moon and Semana Santa begins next week. Tomorrow, in fact, is Palm Sunday. I'm planning a trip to Rescate Market, a farmers and crafter's market with local food vendors that supports the Rescuers in the community of San Carlos. Then, I'll go to Santa Rosa grocery for carnitas and other sundry items to bolster our galley in hopes of getting to the other side...

There was a big wind event last night. Meg and Bob on SV Circe, our work yard neighbors, came over for after dinner tea and cookies. Shortly after they left for home the wind really kicked up gusting to 26kts, allegedly. You can hear it start way up in the mountains, a high pitched woo-ing followed by a mid range oh-ing and rushing down upon us with a full chested ah-ing. The whistling air compressed in the stainless steel tubing of Nepenthe and her surrounding boat buddies is a chorus of singing wind! It inspires me to create an Aeolian Harp in the rigging...maybe off the the back stay and attached to the brackets supports for the solar panels.

A brave little bird leaps into a gust of wind briefly, trying to stabilize itself, holding it's course and maybe finding a branch in a nearby tree. Larger birds revel in the ease of gliding, soaring higher to search out their next perch or prey, while here, poor Nepenthe sits on land, her wings bound, as we drill and sand her belly.

The thru hull issue, or should I say saga, continues. The one that drains the bilge drilled into her in November had a problem. It was discovered during the excavation to be cork sandwiched by fiberglass, not solid fiberglass as expected. Not a good idea. So, it's been removed and glassed over. That hose has been re-routed, connecting by a T to the hose for the scupper drains. I'm here as moral supporter and filler of bellies, feeding body and soul with food and music, errand runner and provisioner. Maybe I'll put in some waypoints on the GPS. That way if we ever do get across to the Baja Peninsula we'll be ready to set a course. Ride this wind instead of hide from it!