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