Connie Bunyer, Adventurous Diva Athlete

Holed up here in Puerto Don Juan for three days we finished reading our current novels and started in on some more.  Connie made pizza dough then cooked the monster calabasa squash we'd been saving for our Hawaii trip.   We spoke with the fishing boat Dora, (Three 100 hp Yamahas and a flying bridge), and loaned them our jerry jugs  so their skipper could go to Bahia de los Angeles Village and load up more gasoline to power those three 100 hp Yamahas.

On their sunset return to the safe anchorage, Dora nosed up to Traveler and the crew handed us the fuel jugs.  “Want some fish?”  “Let me get a bucket,” I said. They wrestled across a big yellow tail tuna and then handed us a bag of sea bass.  Nice!  The next hour was a blood bath on the side deck.  By dark, we’d fileted all the fish.  By 9:00 PM we were having sashimi from the belly of the yellow tail.  By bedtime we’d finished a couple of slices of pizza, cleaned up the galley, and secured the boat for yet another windy night.

Calabasa Squash

 
Maybe a little more background to the story is necessary…Last Wednesday morning while recovering from a sleepless, windy night in Bahia San Francisquito, I was able to bring up the Sonrisa weather on the single side band.  When we heard Gary’s gale warning for the northern sea, looked at each other and said simultaneously, “Oh Shoot!” or something of that nature.  We quickly brought up the anchor and started motoring the 46 nautical miles north towards the best hurricane hole in the Bay of LA area, Puerto Don Juan.  During the day as I lay napping down below, I heard the engine slow down.

Sea Bass

I looked up into the cockpit at Connie just as she was saying, “Oh Shoot!” or something of that nature.  Sure enough the boat had slowed.  We cut the throttle, put it in neutral, and coasted along.  I took up the floorboards and checked the engine and drive train.  It looked good.  We put her in reverse, thinking maybe we’d hit some seaweed and that would back it off the prop.  After some futzing around we got her underway again but now she was making a slight whirring sound.  The water was pretty murky with bits of seaweed floating about and the sea was pretty choppy.  Should we dive the prop?  With this red tide, current, wind, chop and swell it would not be pleasant or even safe. So we continued on to Puerto Don Juan which was another hour or so just around the corner.

Every night for the last five, no matter where we anchored, the wind would come up from the southwest at about midnight and howl along at 15 to 25 knots until daybreak.  Our sleep patterns had been to sleep from 10 to midnight, be awake until about 5 AM, and then sleep in until 9:00 AM so we were a little sleep deprived.  Once snugged down in Puerto Don Juan we were sleeping a little better with all the lines and gear tied down and two anchor drag alarms set.

Ensenada el Quemado

The morning after the fish blood bath we had vowed to somehow get off the boat.  After breakfast we got the dinghy into the water and mounted the outboard on it.  We motored around the mother ship looking underneath and could see some murky wreaths of kelp or seaweed coming off the propeller area.  For certain, we’d have to dive the propeller before we left the anchorage. 

We ran the dink south to the beach, about a quarter mile upwind from the boat and hauled her onto the shore.  We pulled her above a tide line while noticing that there were other tide lines further up the beach.  It was wonderful to get off the boat after five days aboard.  Connie had on her hiking boots and I had on my Keen sandals.  We saw the tracks of coyote and land crabs and marveled at the cactus varieties. Our hike took us across towards the next bay south, Ensenada el Quemado.  Looking for a view we headed uphill and in a half hour found a wonderful summit point where we could see our anchorage and the many islands to the north and east. 

Connie's panorama shot #1.  Notice our dinghy just now floating off the beach.

Connie's panorama shot #2.  Notice SV Traveler anchored way down there in the bay.

Connie's panorama shot #3.  The precise moment Scott notices the dinghy is afloat!

I could see Traveler down below, anchored dead center in the Puerto Don Juan and on the south beach I could see our little dinghy.  Connie figured out how to take a panorama picture on the camera and as she rotated around towards me, splicing the scenes into one, I looked over her shoulder at our dinghy on the beach.  No, not on the beach!  It was slowly drifting north, back towards Traveler and we were not in that dinghy nor was anyone else!  Connie told me to hold still, as she had not finished the panorama.  I told her the dinghy was loose and we had to go get it quick.  We uttered our favorite phrase (as of late) and started scurrying down the rocky slope.
  

 Below, there was a little point of rock protruding about 100 yards into the bay.  If we could make it down to that point fast enough we could swim out and intercept the dinghy before it drifted too far from shore.  What followed was rock, scree, cactus, boulder hopping, and gravel in my sandals.  After negotiating the steep hill and the gully we came out on flatter ground where Connie kicked into gear and left me in the dust, her boots flying over the rough terrain.  By the time I got down to the water she had jettisoned the boots and socks, dropped the camera and dove mightily, and without caution I might add, into the water.  I arrived at the shore panting and started taking pictures as she did the crawl then the backstroke.  A side note:  I notice in myself, when faced with a tough situation or an emergency condition, my first reflex is to get out the camera so as to document what could be a future blog entry. The dinghy had caught the building south wind and was zooming along, free at last.  Connie was on an intercept course. Would she make it in time?  The wind was blowing from the south.  The lightweight dinghy was being wafted sideways along on a northerly course.  Connie’s intercept was from the east so her angle of approach was the shortest possible.  I was able to triangulate the vectors from shore, doing my best to help.  It was do or die.

I thought, “What if she does not make the intercept?”  Then she’d be way out there in the cold water and she might have trouble swimming back to shore.  I’d have to dive into the water.  No, scratch that. I’d wade in first, and then swim out.  When I reached her she’d be at the end of her strength. I’d take her in tow but before making it back to land I’d get a big leg cramp from the 65 degree water and we’d both go down to the bottom together, hand in hand.  They’d later find Traveler with breakfast dishes in the sink and the dinghy washed up on shore a half mile to the north. 

Connie is almost to the intercept point.

Yea!  Now swim it back to shore.

Back to reality…  She made it, just barely, then held onto the dinghy painter while she got her breath. At first she tried to swim and tow the boat until she realized that was a bad idea.  The water was cold and she’d drifted far away from the shore.   It took two tries for her to haul herself out of the water but she finally flung herself into the bottom of the boat and laid there for a few seconds breathing heavily.  I got a great shot of nothing but her legs shooting up from the bottom of the dinghy.  Then Connie got out the oars and started rowing.

I watched her row and I did that thing where you hold out your arm and sight along your raised index finger to see if the item being viewed is moving relative to the land or not.  She was making zero progress.   She also realized that she was making zero progress and that there was a perfectly good outboard motor aboard.   Soon boat, motor, and Connie showed up to rescue Scott from shore.   And was I ever proud of my dear wife.  She hiked, ran, swam, and rowed.  She’d done a quadrathlon!  What could top that? Well, there’s more… 

Note the feet in the air.

Back at Traveler a dry Scott and a wet Connie secured the errant dinghy and climbed aboard.  I reminded Connie that we’d have to check the seaweed on the prop later today.  Looking at her dripping clothing she decided, what the heck, I’ll just do it now.  I’m already wet.  So Connie got the mask, snorkel, and fins out of the closet.  She strapped on the brawny dive knife to her thigh and hurled herself into the choppy water.  My heart swelled up with pride at my quadrathlon running, adventurous diva athlete wife.








 

Connie returns the errant dinghy and saves Scott's life.

 
It took five submersions for her to saw off the weed from the propeller shaft and one more to check the zinc.  By the time the diva shivered her way up the swim ladder she was studded with goosebumps head to toe.

Right back into the cold cold water to cut off the kelp.

We rubbed her down, rinsed her off, and scuttled her below into bed with a hot water bottle and some Havana Club. I, myself stepping and fetching trying to make her comfortable by bringing in hot ginger tea and warmed pesto noodles, the two of us finally cuddling there together talking about our brush with death and Connie’s heroic efforts to save us both from dying abandoned on a desolate beach.

 

What To Do With the Dink

Sonrisa Weather Report Saturday May 9, 2015.  for Santa Rosalia and Punta Chivato

Morning Wind NNW 13 to 17 knots
Afternoon Wind NNW 16 to 21 knots
Sunday Afternoon Wind NNW 17 to 22 knots
Monday Afternoon Wind ENE 8 to 10

I just measured 13 knots of wind here inside the breakwater.  Outside the harbor the white caps extend as far as the eye can see.  Traveler will stay put a few more days before we continue our trip north up the Sea of Cortez.  We couldn’t have picked a better place to hunker down for a while.  Santa Rosalia is an interesting little port.  The breakwater made from slag blocks has been here since 1922 and is doing a great job sheltering us from the swell.  The copper mines have been closed for years but their legacy remains in the French style architecture and the crumbling smelter works in town.  It’s a good place to do laundry, provision, walk the historic streets, and catch up on our communications.  With a little time on my hands I thought I’d write a little something about a very important piece of cruising gear, the dinghy.  Some people lovingly call it the dink.

Punta Pulpita Anchorage

When we bought Traveler she came with a 10.5 foot Caribe fiberglass RIB (Rigid Inflatable Boat) dinghy.  She’d been exposed to the sun’s UV for many years and had sprouted a few slow leaks.  As time went by and the glue started to fail we tore off an oarlock and a rubber cleat and she started to look pretty beat up.  It was always a heavy dinghy.  The two of us could barely haul it up on the rear dinghy davits or try to crank it up on deck.  We found that the inner hull leaked into the outer hull so we were carrying around a few extra pounds of water. 

Big Eye Jack fun to catch, not too good to eat.

We started carrying around the air pump so we could re-inflate the boat before returning from shore.  Finally, last season we pulled the plug on the old Caribe and gave it to one of the yard workers in Guaymas.  We returned the next fall with a new, smaller, lightweight aluminum RIB.

Of course I researched all the dinghy options, talking to fellow cruisers, seeing what worked and what didn’t.  I think the most important consideration is the size and style of the mother ship.  Some boats have a roomy foredeck or a space under the boom for storing a dinghy on deck.  This space can determine the length and breadth of the “tender; “a nautical term for a small boat that runs to shore doing business for the mother ship.  Similarly, if the mother ship is fitted with dinghy davits on the stern the dinghy must fit those davits both in size and weight.  So, where are you gonna put it and how are you gonna get it there?

My list of must-haves included a wind steering system.  When I mounted the Hydrovane on the stern of the boat it was in the way of the dinghy davits.  When I raised the dinghy with the davits it rubbed on the vane.  In Ensenada I took Traveler out for a sail in the bay and got into some good sized swell.  The dinghy hanging off the davits swung back and forth bouncing off the pulpit.  I tied it as tightly as I could but it still banged around.  Thus I knew that I didn’t want the dinghy on those davits for anything but the mildest conditions.  This year I removed the davits entirely.

Egret checking out hoisting tackle.

Taking measurements of the foredeck and calculating the weight, Connie and I decided to get something small and light that could easily be hauled on deck.  Here is what we looked at:

Traditional wood dinghy:   The possibilities here are endless.  You can make one yourself or buy one beautifully handcrafted by a professional.  They usually row well and can be fitted with sailing gear. For us, we didn’t want the maintenance or the weight and didn’t have the deck space.

Porte-Bote folding boat:  68 pounds for the 8.5 foot model.  It disassembles so you can strap it to the deck or lifelines.  Light weight and durable.  We didn’t want to be constantly taking it apart and putting it back together.  They also look funny.  I know, this shouldn’t be a concern but it is.

Plastic Kayaks or Paddle Boards:  These are fun but there is always the chance that you will get wet.  Many people strap these to the lifelines but that’s a windage concern.  Besides, where would you put the groceries?

Polypropylene boat:  Walker Bay makes a good one.  Their 8 foot model weighs 71 pounds. West Marine makes one also.  These hard shell dinghies are tough!  They can be rigged with expensive sails and you can have a lot of fun zipping around the anchorage.  Floatation can be added to make them more like an inflatable RIB.  The only thing that kept us from buying one of these is the fact that they don’t collapse and would take up too much space on our foredeck. Other than that, they are very reasonably priced.

Pelican skipper on West Marine dinghy.  Note the little tank on the outboard motor.

Portland Pudgy:  This unsinkable little tender has some great features.  It can double as your life raft, has storage compartments, is indestructible, and really cute!  If we had a place to secure this boat on deck and the hoisting system to get it there (it’s 500 pounds), we’d consider it as a sturdier option than the Walker Bay.

Standard Inflatable:  With no hard bottom, when deflated these can be rolled into a small package you can strap on deck or put in a cockpit locker.  The downside is that it doesn’t cut through waves well and takes more horsepower or people power to move it through the water. 

We hang it from the side at night.  Nice chaps.

Fiberglass RIB:  This is the standard tender for cruising sailboats.  With a rigid hull, they move through the water easily and can handle large loads.   If you match the engine horsepower to the boat you can plane with two people aboard.  When the tubes are deflated it stores more easily on deck.

Aluminum RIB:  Much like the Fiberglass RIB but lighter weight.  Also consider that where aluminum might merely dent on impact, fiberglass would chip or break. 

V' Ger with soft floor dink upside on deck.

One of the ways to save weight is to do away with the flat floor and just have a single hull.  The downside to this is that when standing inside the dinghy you are on a sloping surface.  The upside is that there is no hidden bilge to collect water.

Once we narrowed our search to a small aluminum RIB we found a good selection at Ballard Inflatables in Seattle, Washington.   I originally went there to buy the AB brand Ultralight but found a less expensive brand named Highfield that suited our needs and budget.  We bought the 53 pound, 7’ 10” RIB and stuffed it into the Toyota Dolphin to carry down to Mexico.

With the engine off, Connie and I can easily carry the RIB up the beach or drag it onto the dock.  When we bring it up alongside the mother ship it’s easily hoisted on the jib halyard.  For passages, we deflate it and strap it to the rear of the foredeck leaving ample room for managing the anchor and the staysail. 

Miss Teak has davits up high on the arch.

Our 6 HP outboard is too heavy for the little RIB but we’re using it anyway this season, being careful not to let following waves swamp the boat.  Next year we’ll replace the 6 hp with a 3 or 4 HP or better yet, an electric motor! Many boaters have larger outboards, the 9.9 hp being fairly common. But then again, many boaters have big tenders; that’s a lot of weight to be hauling up and down on a daily basis. Smaller motors have the gas tank built in so you don’t have to be schlepping a tank and fuel line every time you mount the motor.  For us, as long as we don’t have too far to go, we leave the outboard bolted to Traveler’s stern rail and use oars to go ashore.  

Here are some other things to consider when choosing and outfitting a dinghy:

Dinghy Chaps:  Connie made a set of these out of green Sunbrella.  Chaps will extend the life of the hypalon tubes by keeping the UV at bay. They also look good and disguise the age of the dinghy.

Hypalon vs PVC:  Hypalon will cost slightly more but has better UV resistance and might be stouter.  PVC is easier to patch and cheaper.  PVC tube construction has improved over the years and has become a better choice than in the past.  

Cats usually hoist the dink in the rear between the two hulls.

Hoisting cable:  To bring the dinghy on deck you’ll need to rig a triangle of cable or line to two points on the stern and one at the bow.  We leave these permanently in the RIB.

Wheels:  With the outboard mounted, wheels make it easy to run up on the beach.  Our outboard weighs 55 pounds, the same as the dinghy.  At 110 pounds the rig is a bit too heavy to lift the whole thing up to carry ashore.  To land the boat, we flip the wheels down and lock them in place.  When the wheels touch sand, we turn off the engine.  Then we hop out, take the boat by the bow, and walk it up above the surf line.  Easy peasy. 

Dinghy Davits:  When in calm waters dinghy davits are quite handy. However, in large seas a dinghy hanging off the back of the boat will inevitably knock around and break something.  The davits need to be high enough so that no breaking wave can reach the boat but then again the dinghy shouldn’t restrict your view out the back of the boat.  So it’s got to be way up there in the air and it has to be strapped securely.  A tall platform on the stern of the boat is called an arch.  It can hold solar panels, antennae, and radar in addition to having dinghy davits built in.  These are great for coastal cruising.  When offshore, though, bring the dinghy up on deck.

Air Ops with standard davits.  Good in calm seas.

Outboard hoist:  Most cruising boats have some sort of hoist to bring the outboard motor up to the stern pulpit.  Keep in mind that the smaller the motor the easier it will be to hoist up to the rail.  Our hoist has two double tackle lines, one that controls the boom arm and one that hoists the motor.  The cardinal rule when hauling an outboard aboard is to have a separate safety line tied from the motor to the boat just in case you drop the thing into the drink.

Outboard motor hoist on Traveler

Security:  The outboard motor is easy to steal and easy to fence.  Bring the outboard up off the dinghy and secure it to the rail with a sturdy padlock.  Another option is to bring the dinghy up alongside with the jib halyard and lock the engine with a cable and padlock to a heavy deck fitting or chain plate.  When in a risky neighborhood or when leaving the boat for a few days, put the outboard motor down below in the mother ship cabin or at least lie it on its side out of view in the cockpit.  Shane and Tina on the worthy sailing vessel Vagrant put together a gizmo with rotating lights and a siren and ran the switch to their sleeping cabin.  If they hear a burglar they punch the switch and the suspect is scared out of his wits.  Someone else actually told me that they sleep with a fishing line tied from their outboard motor to their big toe.  We were drinking at the time I heard this story so I give it no credence.

Maintenance:  Outside of the typical outboard motor maintenance the dinghy is pretty easy to maintain.  If you bring the boat up out of the water nightly the hull won’t get slimy or develop barnacles.   We remove the oars and stow them away inside the cockpit locker.  At the marina, haul out the dinghy and rinse off the salt.   Then take apart the oars and wash them with fresh water.  Most dinghy oars have locking pins that can rust up, stick in place, then eventually break if they are not cleaned regularly.

The Painter:  This is the tow line.  It is best made from poly so it can’t sink.  If not, set little floats on the line so it stays on top of the water.  The most common mistake here is backing over the dinghy tow line, getting it stuck in the propeller, and losing propulsion on the mother ship.  We always snub the dinghy up close when anchoring or docking.

Caleta Candeleros Chico, our favorite anchorage this year, thus far.

You know, we all benefit hugely from our own and other’s experiences.  I know people who have dropped their outboard motor overboard and couldn’t find it in 20 feet of water.  Multiple friends have backed over their dinghy painter, wrapping it around the propeller.  One guy bent the prop shaft and knocked the engine off its mounts solely from wrapping a line around the prop.  I had an out of control dinghy on davits smash my stern light.  We had our outboard stolen right off the tender hanging on the side of the boat.  Many of us older cruisers pull muscles hoisting up small boats and motors that really should be smaller.  We live, we learn, we evolve.

So far we are finding our little aluminum dink to be quite handy.  It’s a little funky trying to row it straight and it’s a bit of a tippy canoe when getting in and out but it sure is a delight being able to toss it about so easily. 

The wind is still up.  The laundry is done.  I’ll have Connie proof read this mess then maybe, just maybe, we will treat ourselves to dinner out!

Mangos at 65 cents a pound makes Connie very happy.

A String of Pearls

Guests off to the airport. Farewells to the Port Captain. Pesos spent on chicken and vegetables at the market. Bilge pump hose spliced and tied off. We are carried north out of La Paz bay on the outgoing tide. The pace of our life has calmed considerably as we slowly make our way north dropping anchor early each afternoon in small pristine coves. Clear green and blue water where you can see your anchor 25 feet below snugged tightly in the white sand bottom.

Morning tea in bed. Cold beer in the afternoon. Snorkeling, reading, sailing, taking our time. Ensenada Grande, Isla San Francisco, Nopolo, a lovely string of pearls stretching north along the Baja coast. Goats on the hills around Agua Verde, their bells tinkling as they head for home with the sunset. A morning stop at San Cosme to find a bubbling hot springs right at the water's edge. Not a soul in site. Naked in the middle of nowhere and finally a clean scalp and arm pits. A pleasant surprise to find the tiny Los Candeleros Chico anchorage empty. Slow three knot sailing under the big colorful sail to find Isla Danzante's Honeymoon Cove empty as well, except for thirsty bees who we have to chase out of the cabin.

Fellow boaters flocking to the Loreto Fest at Puerto Escondido leave us the choice anchorages all to ourselves. We've got a month more of this happiness until the heat of June encourages us to find a port for the summer.

This communication is sent via radio from Bee City, Honeymoon Cove, an appropriate location for this couple in love.

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April Update

Our last posting was via the single sideband radio.  It was a communication I did not want to make.  We had turned tail and were running back towards shore, aborting our long planned trip to Hawaii.  It was a low moment.  Sigh! 

I’ll let that settle in for a moment and you can express your sympathy with us seeing how time and time again we’ve been assaulted with bad luck, unexpected expenditures, barking dogs, unrelenting heat, devious swindlers, and rotten fruit. 

Whew!  Ok, now that the pity party is done let’s get on with the happy reality of life.  Connie and I are presently anchored in La Paz.  We have ice in the cooler and a fresh chicken marinating in BBQ sauce ready for the grill.  It’s a sweet 80 degrees with a light breeze coming across the bay.  We are eating cashews and drinking cold beverages.  Life is good.   Now I’ll fill you in on what has gone down with us in the last ten days.

26 lb Cravelle

We left Punta de Mita, the last anchorage outside of Banderas Bay on Thursday the 9^th of April and we headed out into the open ocean in company with the sailing vessel Papillon, destination Hawaii.  Connie found the cheap rum and we poured four cups out, three for us and one for the Old Man Sea.  

 

Toasting the Old Man Sea

We played tag with Papillon throughout the day and into the night.  The wind was on the nose so we had to veer off to the south or north to keep wind in the sails.  On Friday we motored some then got into rough seas.  Connie was feeling sea sick and had retired to her bunk.  By mid-morning we had run 80 miles from land.  Connie told me she smelled diesel so I pulled up a floor board and found a trickle coming from the stern of the vessel running down into the bilge.  The smell permeated the boat.  Scott Tobiason removed everything from the starboard cockpit locker and jumped down there to check out the tank.  We found a rusted place next to the filler that had broken loose and the top edge of the tank felt spongy.  Fuel sloshed up by the violent motion of the boat was seeping out the crack, running down between the two tanks and ending up in the bilge. 

Papillon

Papillon was there just off our Port bow, water streaming off her decks.  We had a decision to make and as far as I could see we had four options: try a repair at sea, drain the tank, turn back, or do nothing.  Doing nothing would be crazy.  Repairing the tank would be difficult because once we scraped away the fiberglass and exposed the crack we might cause more damage and create a bigger hole and have even more diesel in the bilge.  Keep in mind that the boat had a vigorous motion going and Connie was seasick from the fumes and motion.  Draining the tank would be possible but since both tanks are connected, we’d have to pump out 120 gallons of diesel into the deep blue pristine sea.  My hand pump is pretty small and it would take a long time to empty the tanks.  With no fuel we would lose the option to motor in calms or into the harbor at the trip’s end.  Wherever we ended up we’d need to replace the tanks and the fact of it is that replacing the tanks would be less expensive in Mexico. Reluctantly, I decided to turn back.

We hailed Papillon and apprised them of our circumstances then we tacked around and headed north towards the cape.  We chose to seek landfall at the cape instead of going back to Banderas Bay.  It was somewhat an equal distance and there was just something too “tail between our legs” about going back from whence we left. 

We tried to thread the needle but no such luck.

North we went and into the night watching the wind veer around until it was right on our nose.  Later that night I downloaded a grib (wind vector) file on the radio and it showed some strong winds to the north of us but the winds looked to be of short duration and there was a weak gap between the two peaks that I hoped we’d hit.  We motored until nightfall then continued on under sail, changing course towards the east as we got headed.  Saturday we continued north and east, motoring to reduce the amount of diesel in the tanks.  Late Saturday night the wind piped up and the seas built to four feet.  We put one reef in the main and rolled the jib up halfway and continued on.  In the early morning hours it got rougher.  Connie awoke with the commotion and prepared for her watch finding it had been commandeered, yet happily acquiesced at the sight of the sea conditions. She mentioned the possibility of there being too much canvas up seeing as we were heeling hard to port.  She moved out onto the settee and turned on the fan to reduce the diesel smell.

Wedged into the master berth, I got a few winks of sleep but gave up at about 03:00 when I joined Scott Tobiason on deck.  The seas were heaving roughly and the wind increased as we cracked off on a starboard tack.  

Earlier I had observed that the first reef line was in the lower leech cringle and didn’t pull the sail down far enough for the reef points to tie properly.  Sure enough, with heavy wind on the sail, the reef points started to tear the main sail.  We fought in the Genoa some more by putting the haul line on the winch, all the time wishing we’d completely furled it earlier and set the sturdy staysail, but the sail was brand new and holding up just fine with the little bit we had out.  Our main worry was the main. 

It was so rough we were hesitant to go on top deck to tuck in the second reef but finally I decided it had to be done or we’d lose the main as the points were ripping out more so each hour.   Actually it turned out to be pretty easy to put the second reef in the main.  I moved carefully along the side deck then up to the cabin top holding on tightly.  At this time the boat was being swept by the seas on a regular basis.  Water ran down both sides and cascaded off the leeward side.  I remember standing there at the mast, hauling down the sail and getting slapped on my backside by water.  It was thrilling.  Scott Tobiason and I were shouting to each other over the wind to coordinate the mainsheet, traveler, halyard, and topping lift. It went well and fairly quickly as both of us knew what the procedure was.  With the second reef in place the boat was not heeled so severely and the going was much smoother.  The leeward rail was less often in the water.

The tops of the waves were being swept off by the wind and there was foam all around.  Traveler would rise up to meet the big waves, and then she’d just roll right over the top, never losing her momentum.   We braced ourselves in the cockpit, taking spray in the face and marveling on the beauty of it all.  Down below the water was coming in, forced through the hatch gaskets.  Our bed was soaked and the settee was wet.  Feeling better now yet marveling on the terror of it all, Connie fought her way out of the wet settee and while trying to dog down the hatch more tightly she got lifted up into the air and tossed over the table and across the cabin, landing safely back in the settee. She decided that if we needed her we’d holler but it was best to stay put.  The two Scotts stayed wedged in the cockpit as Traveler barreled her way north towards the cape.  We kept saying, “I think it is moderating now.” It was a wishful thought.  Into the day we hurled, the underdeck autopilot keeping us on track.  Finally we saw land ahead and by 11:00 we were running down the southern Baja coast with the wind and rollers behind us.  With the changed motion of the boat, Connie happily came on deck and enjoyed hand steering down the waves wing on wing as we made our way into San Jose del Cabo and the protected breakwater there. 

At the dock we took stock of our situation, broke out the rum, and grabbed at anything easy to eat.  The boat and her crew were soaked and salty inside and out.  The forward cabin door frame was canted out a couple of inches.  Most of the fruit and vegetables were bruised.  There was diesel in the bilge.  We set about washing bedding and clothing and drying everything out.  Lowering the sails we got out the fresh water hose and rinsed them starting from the top, raising and rinsing until they were wet with fresh water.  We rinsed and wiped the cabin, sides, stainless, running and standing rigging.   Inside we wiped the walls, ceiling, and floors.  Traveler soon looked like a gypsy boat with towels, cushions, and clothing hanging from lifelines and ropes led fore and aft. 

Get out the foulies!

The folks from the sailing vessel Tillicum stopped by.  They were headed for Hawaii also but turned back because of a steering problem.  We heard on the radio about a catamaran named Papokee who also turned back with a broken water pump.  So that’s three boats that left for Hawaii and came back.  Hopefully our friends on Papillon continued.

At the fuel dock in San Juan del Cabo we met our friends on Del Viento filling their water tanks, a last stop this side of the Pacific.  We waved them off the dock as they started their journey to the Marquesas.

The next day we visited the port captain who listened to our story and allowed us back into the country, advising us to check in when we got to La Paz and then go to the immigration office to get our visas straightened out.  Now that the main sail was clean and dry, we removed it and spent the afternoon with the sewing machine patching the torn reefing points.  With internet and phone coverage we set about making new plans for everyone.  Scott Tobiason changed his return flight from Hawaii to Cabo and his wife Karen decided to fly down to join us in La Paz.  Connie and I decided to take a break and spend some time cruising the local area with the Tobiasons then we’d just ramble north and take care of the diesel tanks in Guaymas.  As long as we didn’t get into rough seas the tank didn’t leak so the urgency to get them replaced right away was lessened. 

Scott Tobiason at the helm.

The winds were northerly and light for the next three days so we motored north to Los Frailes then Muertos, then into La Paz where we picked up Karen and checked in with the La Paz port captain.  Their office saw no problem with us returning to Mexico and they stamped our papers with a flourish.   At Immigration it did not go so well.  We had surrendered our visas when we left Puerto Vallarta and the next port was supposed to be in Hawaii.  But now we were back and the immigration office didn’t know what to do with us.  Legally we should leave, go to the States.  Then we could return and get new visas. But since we never went to the United States we were in a sort of limbo world. 

It's a serious business.

Finally, after much discussion it was decided that we could write a letter in Spanish saying what happened, take a picture of the GPS track where we turned around in mid-ocean, and copy our log book where we’d made the entry saying we were aborting the trip.  After lots of scurrying around madly for a couple of hours and waiting a couple of hours more we finally obtained new visas good for another six months.  Yee ha!

The four of us spent four days cruising the bays of Isla Espirito Santos and Isla Partida.  We swam with the sea lions, fished, hiked, and had a marvelous relaxing time. 

We tried to insert some humor into this post and I hope you got a smile or two out of it.  But the truth of the matter is that traveling on the ocean in a small boat is a serious proposition.  Every year we hear of someone losing their boat during a crossing.  In the Baja Ha Ha 201???, ?? hit a whale, lost her rudder, and the boat sank.  The crew took to the life raft and were rescued.  Last year a couple with two young children had to abandon their boat when one of the kids had serious health problems.  This year already we heard about s/v ?? who had ??? and sank just after another sailboat took them off for safety.  For us, erring on the side of caution seems to be the best plan.  The next time we go offshore we'll be even more prepared and the boat will be much sounder inside and out.

Sunset red

I guess Hawaii will just have to wait.  We’ve got some work to do but before we start in on those projects, we’ll take our time heading north and enjoy the wonderful Baja anchorages between here and Guaymas.  Thanks for following our story.  I hope you are not too disappointed that we aborted our crossing.  Todo bien.  It’s all good.

Swimming with sea lions

Crossing Aborted - s/v //Traveler

Outbound from Puerto Vallarta we sailed west encountering some jumbled seas the second day and finding diesel in the bilge. The smell and the motion of the boat combined brought on sea sickness for Connie. The two Scotts examined the diesel tanks and found the source of the leak on top of the starboard tank, next to the filler nipple. The fiberglass encased steel tank had rusted and delaminated . A crack had formed allowing fuel to seep out when the boat motion sloshed the fuel up at the top of the tank. We had about 120 gallons of diesel in the tanks so they were fairly full.

Being relatively near land, with 2761 miles to go to Hawaii we reluctantly decided to turn back. Prudence prevailed. My thought was that the crack could grow larger in a heavy sea, spilling more diesel. We could patch it but would it be wise to embark on a four week crossing with a hastily patched tank? Moreover, the smell was causing nausea in the crew.

We are presently headed north toward the Sea of Cortez, choosing a landfall at La Paz instead of retreating back to Puerto Vallarta. Our location is N 20 degrees 54 minutes, W 107 degrees 48 minutes. Aside from the fuel leak, all is well on board. Connie is getting over her sea sickness and we are starting to feel a little bit more rested.

Our joy will come when Scott Tobiason catches that big tuna as we approach Los Frailes and we can enjoy sushi with a crisp chilled white wine.

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T.I.M.

Marina Vallarta entrance

TIM.  Stands for "This Is Mexico".  Life in Mexico goes at a different pace than life in the states and to travel here you have to get used to moving at a different speed. Our friends on Adesso say to their grandkids when they get antsy,  "You get what you get and you don't pitch a fit".  Well that has become our watch phrase.

The visit at the port captain went well.  It took three hours but it went well.  Our visit to Immigration went well, but we had to take paperwork back to the port captain, have it signed and then returned to Immigration.  We were told that Customs would come visit us at the dock the next day and give us final clearance to leave the country.  We straightened up the boat and did some chores then Scott Tobiason took us out for Mahi Mahi.  How it got to be midnight so soon I don't know.  It must have had something to do with the "El Ron Prohibido" rum that we found at the local store.  We thought it was Cuban rum but it turned out to be Mexican, 12 year old at that: quite tasty.

Artist in residence paints our home port on the sexy round stern of SV Traveler

The next day, while waiting on Customs, we did a few things.  We installed an autopilot. Scott Tobiason patched the rounded stern of Traveler, painted over the old "San Diego", and hand stenciled "Seattle WA" so we'd have the correct home port on our transom. We ran the gasoline out of the outboard motor and hauled it onto the rail.  We cleaned the dinghy, deflated it, then stowed it on deck.  Things were washed, things were organized. We kept busy. Still, Immigration did not show up.

One peso per meter of TP

As the afternoon wore on we became curious as to when Immigration might be coming by for the inspection.  Scott Voltz went to the marina office and had them call the port captain's office, then the Immigration office.  Immigration said, "We'll be there at 6:00 PM today."

The marina office said, "If you are still here at 6:00 PM you must pay for another day."

TIM.  We are staying another day.

The vegetables that we bought fresh on Saturday are dying.  The lettuce is brown.  The broccoli is rotten.  And the green tomatoes are now a deep shade of red. Looks like we'll hit the grocery store tomorrow morning after the Customs agent makes his appearance.  Connie started to pitch a fit but I reminded her about the "Don't pitch a fit" thing and she calmed right down.

It's all good. We are all three pretty worn out from all the chores so getting a good nights sleep will be a boon to our spirits.  We had cocktails on the sailing vessel Liebling, an Amel 54. with owners Jim and Linda and their friend Larry.  Connie played a couple of songs on the ukelele and was quite a hit.

Speaking of hits.  Today we got 250 hits on this blog. Tobiason thinks it is because he sent the link out to a couple of his friends.  Wow.   If there are new readers here and it isn't some kine of computer fluke then I encourage you to read more of the pages to see just how we came to be at this place, in this time, and in this frame of mind.

We are happy to have our friend Scott Tobiason aboard.  He brings a lot of talent to the boat and is a boost to our morale.

Oh yeah, one last thing....  Marina Vallarta, like many marinas in Mexico is built in an estuary.  Before the docks were built the place was teeming with wildlife.  These days there is still a fair amount of wildlife including some large crocodiles.  You sometimes see them gliding along between the boat slips.  Yesterday our dock neighbor saw one move with lightning speed, hurling himself onto the shoreline to snag a good sized black labrador off the walkway.  He swam away, entertaining marina guests with the sight of him munching his snack.

After sunset a 50 ft power boat came gliding back to its slip with a banda band playing loudly on the expansive bow deck.  They formed a circle around two bikini clad young ladies who were dancing their way home from an afternoon outing in the bay.  Life as usual here in the tropics.

That's all for now. Thanks for tuning in. You'll next hear from us from out in the big blue.

Traveler sits calmly waiting on Aduana (Customs)

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Off Shore

Connie sewed up this lee cloth to hold me in when it gets rough

We're going offshore, heading west to the Hawaiian Islands.  Yesterday we provisioned the boat once again.  I say once again because we've been provisioning for the last week, off and on. But yesterday we made the almost final market run, filling two carts and then the trunk of the little taxi that carried us back to the marina.  We've got enough food for three people for 35 days.  That's good eating for 22 days and poor eating for another 15.  I guess if it came down to it we could eat for another week on rice and beans.  The crossing usually takes 20 to 25 days depending on wind, the length of the boat, and the skill of the crew. 

Our friend Scott Tobiason joins us today.  With him and his passport we can go to the port captain on Monday and apply for our exit papers (zarpe).  The port captain will send our information over to customs and immigration who make sure we are not on the "most wanted" list.  Then customs makes an appointment for the next day to come visit the boat to make sure we aren't smuggling anything illegal. Once that is done we get our zarpe and can leave the country. 

Kite sailing through the anchorage at La cruz, Banderas Bay

Coincidentally, the low pressure system that has been hovering over us the last few weeks gives way to a high pressure system on Wednesday that will give us a strong northerly flow down the Sea of Cortez.  This norther will then be on our beam as we leave Bandaras Bay and propel us for about three days before it is predicted to slacken.  In the old days they called a beam reach a "soldier's wind" because it is a fast point of sail, getting the soldiers to the battle quickly, but more importantly, a smooth point of sail as the boat heels but doesn't tend to pitch or roll too much.  Soldiers get seasick, you know.  Hopefully in these three days of the norther we can make about 350 miles and get far enough off shore to catch the trade winds that blow from east to west.  These trades can propel us swiftly to our destination.   That's the plan.  We hope for the best.



Our course is not straight across the 19 degree latitude line but takes the Great Circle Route, climbing to latitude 21 then turning south back to 19 degrees at Hawaii.  It is shorter by about 30 miles.  Figure that one out!

Once in Hawaii we'll visit the islands, find safe anchorages, and enjoy the sights.  After a couple of months when we get closer to the summer season, we'll head north from the islands the once clear of the Pacific high pressure zone, we'll turn east and run towards British Columbia, hopefully making landfall at the north end of Vancouver Island.  From there we'll go south at a leisurely pace and end up in Puget Sound to visit friends and see what it is like to have Traveler in our home waters.

At least that's the plan.  I hope it all goes down as we envision.  This is our first time running off shore.  I think we are up for it.  I know the boat is. 

We don't have extra crew yet for the Hawaii to BC run so if any of our readers are interested in making a 20 to 25 day crossing in July please get in touch with us.  I think it will be much easier with a crew of three or four.  With two, we go four hours on and four hours off, thus you never get more than four hours sleep at a time.  With three we go four on, eight off.  That seems to be much better.  With four I guess we could go to three hour shifts and everyone would get nine hours between shifts.  What luxury that would  be!

Jorden Series drogue we picked up at a swap meet.  Drag this behind the boat when the tempest strikes.

On the way, we will be using the Sailmail and the Winlink system to send and receive email messages via the HAM radio.  We'll also use the radio to download weather files so we don't run smack into a tropical storm on the way. 

The next postings after this one will be via the radio and thus will be brief and have no pictures.  Boring, in fact, it shall be, but exciting for us as we embark on our newest great adventure, crossing the Pacific Ocean.



    

Teak side deck removed, glassed, and just now painted.