We’d read all about the run from San Diego to Los Cabos as
the Baja Ha Ha has been doing this for years.
At about the first of November the chance of a significant storm in
Pacific Mexico is slim so that’s when the hordes of gringos embark south down
the coast of Baja. This year the Ha Ha
had 120 boats fighting for anchorages and cold beers at Turtle Bay, that’s Bahia
Tortugas on the chart. They left the
local population reeling in exhaustion but flush with cash.
We set sail from Ensenada at 3:00 PM on November 15th
having just the night before picked up Connie at the San Diego airport. Into the night we sailed and as the sun set
the wind set, a pattern which would prove itself true over and over in the
oncoming days and nights. We took four
hour shifts at first with each person overlapping the person before them by one
hour. That way each person had one hour of company, two hours of solitude, then
one hour of company. After a day or two
of this we decided that sleep was more important than company so we changed the
watch schedule to three hours on and six hours off.
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| Keeping a watchful eye |
Once offshore we implemented a harness rule. At night, everyone had to be clipped in
before coming on deck. You stand below
and put on your harness then reach outside and grab a tether and snap it onto
the harness. Then you go into the
cockpit. We tried to set our sails so
that nobody had to go out on deck at night but if you did, you had to have
somebody else present in the cockpit to watch you.
In the daytime you can be in the cockpit without wearing a
harness and life vest but someone else has to be awake and you are not allowed
on deck without a harness and somebody watching out for you. This system seemed to work out just fine and
gave us a measure of security.
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| Frigate birds and pelicans along for the ride, waiting for lunch |
Motoring through the first night we found wind again at
09:45 the next morning and rode that good wind all day to Isla St. Martin near
San Quintin Bay where we found a roily anchorage (bouncy) on the south side of
the island. We slept pretty well
considering the boat rolled violently most of the night.
So our first run was about 25 hours. This was as planned because we wanted to
start out gradually and not get too tired while trying to adjust to the watch
schedule. Because the water was pretty
calm the first ten hours out nobody got sea sick and we got used to the motion
of the boat slowly that first run.
The next morning we got underway and traveled another 31
hours south running the engine when the wind died (usually at night) and
sailing when there was wind. We learned
that in bumpy following seas the sails lose their air when the boat rolls, especially the
main sail which I nick named “the goddam main” and we finally just took the
sucker down and didn’t use it any more. The big heavy genoa headsail seemed to flop a lot in confused seas, making quite a racket. So when the wind was lighter we put up the pretty yellow/green/white gennaker and it produced a much quieter and smoother ride.
That second run was fairly taxing on everyone. Each of us had our unique melt down on that
run and we came to Cedros Island totally ready for a break. So instead of continuing on
into the second night to Turtle Bay we opted to rest at Cedros on the northern
tip for the night. The next day we went
into Turtle Bay arriving just before sundown.
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| Rebecca Linde |
On the way in we were greeted by Enrique Jr. and his fuel
panga. They showed us a nice anchorage
then came alongside and we purchased 100 liters of diesel fuel for $100
US. After all that motoring I thought it
prudent to add another 37.85 gallons to our 70 left in the tank. I had been checking the water level and the
fuel level and the battery voltage and the oil level each day to track how much
we were consuming. This information was
going into our log as it was collected.
It felt sooooo gooood to be on the boat with absolutely no movement. We’d had movement, lots of it, for the last
four days. My abs were sore from rocking
back and forth. The next morning after
breakfast we called Enrique Jr again on the radio and bought a water taxi ride
to the town wharf. Small town, expensive
showers at the local hotel, some fresh eggs and milk and then a wonderful but
expensive bunch of fish tacos and beers at Enrique’s sister, Maria's restaurant
overlooking the bay. Nice! Now this is what I’m talking about.
We met up with La Brisa from Ensenada, a boat I somewhat
knew of. The crew of four had been out
two weeks doing what we did in four days.
They ripped their main sail and had to spend three days at Isla St.
Martin sewing it up. Then their fuel got mixed with all the water and sediment
in the tanks which had not been cleaned and their diesel was bad causing the
engine to stop running. They had to pay Enrique
Jr to pump it out and dispose of it then they had to buy more clean fuel. They also were running out of water as they
had not conserved it very well on the way down.
So to the pier they went and filled the tanks. There were other problems too that they encountered
and that made me feel a little better about the condition of our little
boat.
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| Jeff waving goodbye at Santa Maria Bay |
We departed the bay the next morning and headed south
towards Magdalena Bay. On the radio we caught
a conversation from a guy heading south asking for a radio check. We butted in and met Jeff headed south on “Chasing
the Sun” an Islander 30. We kept radio
contact with him through the day and into the night. I had some good
conversations with him that night and found that he was single handing the
vessel with Panama as his next big land fall.
We tried to catch up with him for days, keeping about ten miles behind and talking on the VHF radio all the while. It was interesting having a boat buddy
through the days and nights. It turns
out that this was to be his last trip.
His days are numbered as he was diagnosed with terminal cancer and this
trip was to complete his “bucket list.”
He hoped to make it to Panama and pick up his wife there and continue on
to her native country Venezuela. Meeting
up with Jeff, over the radio, and talking to him for days gave me a certain new
perspective on life.
52 hours after leaving Turtle bay we pulled into Bahia Santa
Maria, a nice sheltered anchorage just north of Magdalena Bay. We came in at night using the radar, GPS, and
our eyeballs. Some fishermen called us on the radio and warned us off their
lobster pots. Thanks guys, much
appreciated. We dropped the hook and
opened the wine bottle. Oh yes, one more
rule on the boat is no drinking during passages. If the anchor is down and the sea is somewhat
calm then pop the cork.
A few hours
later Jeff pulled in and we invited him to Thanksgiving dinner. He arrived in
his dinghy with a can of cranberry sauce and a box of wine. The guy was weathered and wild looking from
his trip down the coast but his eyes were bright and his energy was
evident. We had a great dinner and
wonderful conversations while meeting this stranger who I’d been talking to for
days. Jeff had a couple of Spanish
lesson CDs to listen to but no music! So
I dug out my old IPOD and we loaded it up with a good selection of tunes so he
could have a new diversion during all those hours of sailing alone down this
wild coast.
Nice anchorage, slept wonderfully.
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| You can tune a base but you can't tuna fish |
Running a little behind schedule, we needed to press on so we
skipped Magdalena Bay and headed south on our third leg of the trip;
destination, Los Cabos. By this time we
had the watch schedule down and knew to grab sleep when we could. I learned this the hard way as a few nights
before we had rough seas and a dearth of wind so I couldn’t sleep one night at
all. I lost energy, got dizzy and weak,
and felt like crap. Connie and Rebecca
(behind my back) decided to take my next shift away from me so I could get lots
of sleep. They kept the boat going under
sail and quiet and I did get good rest and felt much better the next day. Thanks crew!
The run to Cabo took a long time with lots of motoring
through the calms. Connie caught a small
fish which was very exciting. We arrived
off the point at the end of the Baja peninsula at night with Connie taking a
midnight shift listening to Frank Zappa on the IPOD. The city lights were
bright. We stayed offshore at least five
miles, rounded the tip, and headed NE towards the town of San Jose del Cabo
arriving there just after dawn the third day out. Rebecca tried her best to sail her to the landfall but the wind came on the nose and when I came on shift I said, "The hell with this." and cranked up the engine. We found the marina breakwater entrance and
as we entered a small pilot boat came out and took us to an open slip. And so we found ourselves at the beautiful
marina at Puerto Los Cabos with the batteries charging on shore power and the sun streaming in
the windows.
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| Lots of gizmos |
This place is chock full of very large white fishing yachts. Each has a radar and radio array rivaling that of most third world navies. Somehow we made it down the coast with a 20 year old radar and one hand held GPS. Hmmm.
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| Jesus was a fisherman too. |
On the way down we did have a few minor difficulties with
the boat but we persevered figuring that as long as the sails pulled and the
engine started we were fine. The
alternator was not charging the batteries as it should when running the engine.
The first autopilot broke so we used the second one that is more beefy and
located under the cockpit. But that
autopilot eats up electricity. The solar
panels were charging as best they could during daylight hours but could not
keep up with the demands of the auto pilot and the refrigerator. So every day or so, I’d get out the little
Honda generator and charge the house bank of batteries for an hour or two.
None of the engine gages were working. No oil pressure. No
water temperature. No tachometer. But the sails would draw and when there was
no wind, the old Perkins would start up and with a HUGE racket power us down
the coast.
Rebecca flew home today.
We thank her for helping us take Traveler south. On our own we would have gone at a much
slower pace but we would not have experienced what it takes to do an extended passage in blue water. With the schedule of
her airline flight out of Cabo in mind, we moved as fast as we could and are now
happily 800 miles south in warm weather.
Tomorrow we leave in the dark and head north up the inside coast towards
LaPaz, planning on stopping twice on that run.
Los Frailes is our first stop, 38 miles NE of Puerto Los Cabos. Then Muertos Cove is another 47 miles north
of Los Frailes. Then LaPaz is another 55
miles. We hope to do this in three hops,
starting very early each day and arriving before nightfall. If the prevailing winds from the north are
not too strong we can make it in three days.
If the winds pick up we will sit at anchorage and pick the fuzz out of
our belly buttons. Once in La Paz, the
boat project list continues.
After we rounded the corner at Cabo San Lucas last night we
lost radio contact with our buddy Jeff.
This was to be expected because when we ran out of wind we turned on the engine and hauled butt
for 12 hours straight leaving him in the watery dust. But we hope to hear from him on the radio as
he sails around the cape and heads east towards the Mexico mainland and routes
leading him south towards his dear wife and her homeland.
As a postscript here I have to add this little gripe. We’re paying $90 a night for our slip
here in the Puerto Los Cabos. They don’t have any gate keys left because the
Baja Ha Ha folks walked off with too many. So we are constantly locked out of or
inside the dock. We tried climbing
around through the cactus and scaling the fence but after doing this too many
times Connie got a little upset and started yelling. Then I went to the gate and started yelling for someone to let us out. Finally one of the cruisers at the marina palapa came down and
opened the gate for us, somebody who DID have a gate key. I then got out my tools and took apart the
locking mechanism on the gate so we could use the facilities tonight. Some cruiser who is concerned about their own security
on the dock kept knocking the rock out of the way that is supposed to hold the
gate open. We prop it open, they close it. The
Mexico solution to not having enough gate keys… prop the gate open. The Anglo boater attitude… lock the gate and
the hell with anyone else. We’re gone at first light tomorrow leaving that
little aggravation behind.
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| Walking alongside the estero looking nice an proper except Scott is wearing little boy shorts. |
Now that I’ve added the above complaint Connie and I feel
much better and we’re getting ready to pop a steak on the grill, have a nice
dinner, and call it an early night.
The run down the coast from San Diego to Los Cabos is one done by many southbound sun seekers every early winter. It is not a casual run but one that proves the adequacy of the boat, the stamina of the crew, and the patience of the captain. The bash back up that same coast is much more difficult. If we decide to come back north, maybe we'll do so via Hawaii.
Gosh the adventures keep on coming...
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