I was all set to start my semi-annual varnishing yesterday, but it rained during the night, and off and on during the day. So, instead, I jumped in the water and scrubbed the bottom. The last time we did a bottom job (i.e. antifouling paint) was two and a half years ago, and the bottom paint was completely worn out. Besides a thick layer of slime, there were thousands of small barnacles. There were even patches where the paint, a soft type that is designed to gradually wear off, was completely gone. We were hoping to make it to New Zealand before needing to paint again, but it looks like we have no choice but to do it here before we leave to go west. Oh, well, we've gotten our money's worth with two and a half years.
Scrubbing the bottom in the water is one of those heinous boat jobs. I hold on to the hull with a suction-cup device, and scrape with a nylon spatula. The top foot or so isn't too bad, but the hull goes down six feet, so there's a lot of breath holding. It takes me a couple of hours, and by the end I am wasted. Usually I do it in clear water at anchor somewhere, but this time was in murky harbor water. It's a bit unnerving to have only about six-inch visibility, and see a dark shape swim by. I know it's just a fish, but ....
Sunday, January 12, 2014
Friday, January 3, 2014
La Cruz de Huanacaxtle
La Cruz, Nayarit, Mexico, Dec 29th
We're not in the desert any more. The mountain sides here are densely verdant. No doubt the rain washing the salt off the deck is the reason. We dropped the hook here this afternoon after a three-day passage from La Paz, Baja California. But first, let's back up a bit to Isla San Francisco, where I left you last.
The time had come for us to tear ourselves away from Baja, and move over to the mainland. We had a great downwind sail from Isla San Francisco to la Paz last Sunday, the 22nd. Wait a minute! Was that just a week ago? What a blur! The morning after sailing in to La Paz, we lucked into a slip in the all-too-often-full Marina de la Paz for a maximum of three days. We actually finished our chores and got out in just two days, chores which included provisioning, washing the boat, and repairing the refrigerator (which had stopped working the day we left for the islands two weeks before).
That Monday morning, we had a wonderful cruiser experience. Years ago, we were friends here with another couple on a boat, with whom we had since lost contact. The last we had heard of them was that they had sailed down to Panama, and sometime later had sold their boat. The last they had heard of us was that we were in New Zealand. Imagine our surprise, and theirs, hearing each other on the morning VHF radio net. They were spending some time on land in La Paz. Anyway, we had a great reunion, in between those two days of chores.
We left La Paz Christmas morning, intending to go non-stop to La Cruz. Not that far out of La Paz, motoring upwind (and hence pitching up and down), one of our engine alarms sounded off. That one indicates water and sludge in the fuel filter - this is not an uncommon occurrence in such conditions, although rare for us - which needed to be cleaned out before the sludge overran the filter and fouled the engine. A convenient anchorage was at hand for us to duck into, and once anchored we decided to continue at "O-dark-thirty" the next morning. Leaving there early Thursday morning, we had a mixed bag of a passage (some good to great sailing, but too much upwind motoring) across to the mainland, arriving here this afternoon, in the rain.
We're not in the desert any more. The mountain sides here are densely verdant. No doubt the rain washing the salt off the deck is the reason. We dropped the hook here this afternoon after a three-day passage from La Paz, Baja California. But first, let's back up a bit to Isla San Francisco, where I left you last.
The time had come for us to tear ourselves away from Baja, and move over to the mainland. We had a great downwind sail from Isla San Francisco to la Paz last Sunday, the 22nd. Wait a minute! Was that just a week ago? What a blur! The morning after sailing in to La Paz, we lucked into a slip in the all-too-often-full Marina de la Paz for a maximum of three days. We actually finished our chores and got out in just two days, chores which included provisioning, washing the boat, and repairing the refrigerator (which had stopped working the day we left for the islands two weeks before).
That Monday morning, we had a wonderful cruiser experience. Years ago, we were friends here with another couple on a boat, with whom we had since lost contact. The last we had heard of them was that they had sailed down to Panama, and sometime later had sold their boat. The last they had heard of us was that we were in New Zealand. Imagine our surprise, and theirs, hearing each other on the morning VHF radio net. They were spending some time on land in La Paz. Anyway, we had a great reunion, in between those two days of chores.
We left La Paz Christmas morning, intending to go non-stop to La Cruz. Not that far out of La Paz, motoring upwind (and hence pitching up and down), one of our engine alarms sounded off. That one indicates water and sludge in the fuel filter - this is not an uncommon occurrence in such conditions, although rare for us - which needed to be cleaned out before the sludge overran the filter and fouled the engine. A convenient anchorage was at hand for us to duck into, and once anchored we decided to continue at "O-dark-thirty" the next morning. Leaving there early Thursday morning, we had a mixed bag of a passage (some good to great sailing, but too much upwind motoring) across to the mainland, arriving here this afternoon, in the rain.
Tuesday, December 24, 2013
Back in Internet Contact
PUERTO LOS GATOS, Dec 9th
A cold wind is howling out of the north, a so-called "Screaming Blue Norther". The wind generator is humming away, providing enough electricity for us to treat ourselves to more than one light per person. Actually, enough to have as many lights on as we please. We are rocking gently from the waves coming over the protecting reef. But we are snug here, with our anchor well dug in to the sand bottom, and with lots of heavy chain holding us to it.
Puerto Los Gatos is a small but picturesque nook -- colorful rock, white sand beach, no houses or other human activity -- with the south facing cove offering protection from northerly winds. We ducked in here yesterday to wait out this blow before heading further up into the Sea of Cortez. The projecting reef that forms the seaward side of the cove breaks most of the wave energy, allowing only enough across to make the boat roll slightly.
That reef is also home for a surprising number and variety of fish. Before the blow started yesterday, Robyn and I donned snorkeling gear and went over to look around. Lots to look at, and plenty large enough to eat -- triggerfish, snappers, grunts, parrot fish, and others. We hadn't brought our spears along, because it was a bit of a swim from the boat. So, after showering and dressing back on Mintaka, we rowed the dinghy over for Robyn to try her luck with a pole. Not two minutes later, she landed a nice triggerfish, a good base for ceviche. As she was unhooking the unlucky flapper, a Mexican fisherman came by, hoping to trade lobster for some gasoline. Unwilling to part with any of our small supply of outboard motor gas, we wound up with two lobster in exchange for six AA batteries and a can of beer.
The norther is expected to continue all day tomorrow, so we'll just hang out doing minor chores, maybe go for a walk on the beach. If its not too rough in the afternoon, I'll probably go spear a couple of triggerfish for dinner.
BAHIA SAN MARTE, Dec 15th
We came up here last Wednesday, the 11th. San Marte is only thirteen miles north of Los Gatos, but with headwinds and contrary tidal currents, it took us four hours to sail only halfway. With a somewhat late start considering the short days, we had to motor the second half to get in and anchor before sunset. This little bay is very well protected from northerly winds, and that's a good thing because we've had consistent winds from that direction. We're sitting out the second day of another "screaming blue norther" right now. Yesterday, the gusts were into the gale-force range.
This is as far north in the Sea of Cortez that we'll go this time. The tidal cycles are such that the currents are from the north for most of the daylight hours for some days to come. With such contrary currents, along with the consistent headwinds, sailing north is difficult. The season is also beginning to press us. Robyn needs to fly up to Duluth again in mid-January, and she'll need to do that from Puerto Vallarta. That means we need to cross over to the mainland side of the Sea relatively soon.
We did not plan to visit Mexico on this cruise, when we originally planned to sail straight from Washington to French Polynesia. But changes in circumstances and then seasonal considerations led us back here before heading west next Spring. And I am so glad it worked out this way; I had forgotten how much I love it here. I am excited about continuing on to mainland Mexico, and then on across the Pacific again, but at the same time, I don't want to leave here. It saddens me somewhat to think that I may never get back here. This is where our cruising life began, where our lives changed to a completely new direction. And this is one of the very best cruising areas in the world. But we left here ten years ago because there was more to see in the world, and that's why we'll leave again. It's still a little sad, though.
All right! All right! Not much sympathy, huh? So, tomorrow we sail back south towards La Paz.
ISLA SAN FRANCISCO, Dec 18th
All sailboats have a magic wand which can change the wind direction. Ours is called a tiller. We didn't like the wind direction being consistently from ahead, so we waved our magic wand (i.e. turned the boat), and brought the wind around to the stern. With that done, we sailed out of San Marte two days ago for a delightful ride back south, stopping for the night at a place called Gacetero bay.
As we were approaching the Gacetero anchorage, where there were already two boats, we were hailed on the radio with, "Boat approaching Gacetero with tanbark sails, you are invited to a BBQ on the beach. I'll have the coals going." We had not planned on going ashore, intending instead to get ready for an early departure the next morning. However, we quickly got the boat settled, the dinghy over the side, and something ready to grill (no small task, being twelve days out from a grocery store, with a defunct refrigerator). The two couples from the other boats were quite congenial, one couple having sailed the South Pacific extensively in years past. We don't normally like to leave things askew on deck overnight, but the weather was settled, so we put things right in the morning before heading off again.
The wind was still fair, the sky was a beautiful blue, and the ride on further south was just magnificent. It wasn't a long day sailing because we had a particular anchorage in mind, but it was a fine day. Rounding the end of a several-miles-long spit, the day's sail concluded with an easy glide on flat water up to drop the hook in an unexpectedly beautiful spot just off the cobble beach.
There is a vast, shallow mangrove lagoon between that spit and a big island. Having entered that lagoon from a different side years ago, we knew it to hold innumerable clams. The cruising guide indicated a second entrance, this one through the spit near where Mintaka was anchored, so off we went. Surprise, surprise! It was low tide, so the "opening" was a small cataract draining the lagoon into the sea, a couple of feet lower. After a half-hearted attempt to get the dinghy up the cataract, we accepted defeat, leaving the clams in peace.
A rocky spot along the spit looked like it might be a good spot for fish, so with no wind and a warm sun, we dinghied over this morning to have a look. It turned out to hold more fish in one small area than we've seen in quite some time. Numerous large schools -- one numbering literally in the thousands! -- completely engulfed us. Some of the species were ones that we often hunt with our spears, which we of course did, each contributing one for the pan.
There being almost no wind all day today, we motored after lunch the few miles to this anchorage, an old favorite of ours from years ago.
ISLA SAN FRANCISCO, Dec 21st
This was a good day. We motored back here from another nearby anchorage this morning, then I did a few boat chores before lunch. Some friends came in to the anchorage with us, and we all went for a hike after lunch to one of the two high points on the island. After that, we all went snorkeling and spear fishing. This is a good spot for that, with lots and lots of fish of all kinds, in an easy depth. I managed to shoot four fish for dinner, and while I was doing that, had a fairly large tuna swim right by me! Never had that happen before. We finished the day with all of us on Mintaka for dinner. Quality time with good friends. A very good day, indeed.
A cold wind is howling out of the north, a so-called "Screaming Blue Norther". The wind generator is humming away, providing enough electricity for us to treat ourselves to more than one light per person. Actually, enough to have as many lights on as we please. We are rocking gently from the waves coming over the protecting reef. But we are snug here, with our anchor well dug in to the sand bottom, and with lots of heavy chain holding us to it.
Puerto Los Gatos is a small but picturesque nook -- colorful rock, white sand beach, no houses or other human activity -- with the south facing cove offering protection from northerly winds. We ducked in here yesterday to wait out this blow before heading further up into the Sea of Cortez. The projecting reef that forms the seaward side of the cove breaks most of the wave energy, allowing only enough across to make the boat roll slightly.
That reef is also home for a surprising number and variety of fish. Before the blow started yesterday, Robyn and I donned snorkeling gear and went over to look around. Lots to look at, and plenty large enough to eat -- triggerfish, snappers, grunts, parrot fish, and others. We hadn't brought our spears along, because it was a bit of a swim from the boat. So, after showering and dressing back on Mintaka, we rowed the dinghy over for Robyn to try her luck with a pole. Not two minutes later, she landed a nice triggerfish, a good base for ceviche. As she was unhooking the unlucky flapper, a Mexican fisherman came by, hoping to trade lobster for some gasoline. Unwilling to part with any of our small supply of outboard motor gas, we wound up with two lobster in exchange for six AA batteries and a can of beer.
The norther is expected to continue all day tomorrow, so we'll just hang out doing minor chores, maybe go for a walk on the beach. If its not too rough in the afternoon, I'll probably go spear a couple of triggerfish for dinner.
BAHIA SAN MARTE, Dec 15th
We came up here last Wednesday, the 11th. San Marte is only thirteen miles north of Los Gatos, but with headwinds and contrary tidal currents, it took us four hours to sail only halfway. With a somewhat late start considering the short days, we had to motor the second half to get in and anchor before sunset. This little bay is very well protected from northerly winds, and that's a good thing because we've had consistent winds from that direction. We're sitting out the second day of another "screaming blue norther" right now. Yesterday, the gusts were into the gale-force range.
This is as far north in the Sea of Cortez that we'll go this time. The tidal cycles are such that the currents are from the north for most of the daylight hours for some days to come. With such contrary currents, along with the consistent headwinds, sailing north is difficult. The season is also beginning to press us. Robyn needs to fly up to Duluth again in mid-January, and she'll need to do that from Puerto Vallarta. That means we need to cross over to the mainland side of the Sea relatively soon.
We did not plan to visit Mexico on this cruise, when we originally planned to sail straight from Washington to French Polynesia. But changes in circumstances and then seasonal considerations led us back here before heading west next Spring. And I am so glad it worked out this way; I had forgotten how much I love it here. I am excited about continuing on to mainland Mexico, and then on across the Pacific again, but at the same time, I don't want to leave here. It saddens me somewhat to think that I may never get back here. This is where our cruising life began, where our lives changed to a completely new direction. And this is one of the very best cruising areas in the world. But we left here ten years ago because there was more to see in the world, and that's why we'll leave again. It's still a little sad, though.
All right! All right! Not much sympathy, huh? So, tomorrow we sail back south towards La Paz.
ISLA SAN FRANCISCO, Dec 18th
All sailboats have a magic wand which can change the wind direction. Ours is called a tiller. We didn't like the wind direction being consistently from ahead, so we waved our magic wand (i.e. turned the boat), and brought the wind around to the stern. With that done, we sailed out of San Marte two days ago for a delightful ride back south, stopping for the night at a place called Gacetero bay.
As we were approaching the Gacetero anchorage, where there were already two boats, we were hailed on the radio with, "Boat approaching Gacetero with tanbark sails, you are invited to a BBQ on the beach. I'll have the coals going." We had not planned on going ashore, intending instead to get ready for an early departure the next morning. However, we quickly got the boat settled, the dinghy over the side, and something ready to grill (no small task, being twelve days out from a grocery store, with a defunct refrigerator). The two couples from the other boats were quite congenial, one couple having sailed the South Pacific extensively in years past. We don't normally like to leave things askew on deck overnight, but the weather was settled, so we put things right in the morning before heading off again.
The wind was still fair, the sky was a beautiful blue, and the ride on further south was just magnificent. It wasn't a long day sailing because we had a particular anchorage in mind, but it was a fine day. Rounding the end of a several-miles-long spit, the day's sail concluded with an easy glide on flat water up to drop the hook in an unexpectedly beautiful spot just off the cobble beach.
There is a vast, shallow mangrove lagoon between that spit and a big island. Having entered that lagoon from a different side years ago, we knew it to hold innumerable clams. The cruising guide indicated a second entrance, this one through the spit near where Mintaka was anchored, so off we went. Surprise, surprise! It was low tide, so the "opening" was a small cataract draining the lagoon into the sea, a couple of feet lower. After a half-hearted attempt to get the dinghy up the cataract, we accepted defeat, leaving the clams in peace.
A rocky spot along the spit looked like it might be a good spot for fish, so with no wind and a warm sun, we dinghied over this morning to have a look. It turned out to hold more fish in one small area than we've seen in quite some time. Numerous large schools -- one numbering literally in the thousands! -- completely engulfed us. Some of the species were ones that we often hunt with our spears, which we of course did, each contributing one for the pan.
There being almost no wind all day today, we motored after lunch the few miles to this anchorage, an old favorite of ours from years ago.
ISLA SAN FRANCISCO, Dec 21st
This was a good day. We motored back here from another nearby anchorage this morning, then I did a few boat chores before lunch. Some friends came in to the anchorage with us, and we all went for a hike after lunch to one of the two high points on the island. After that, we all went snorkeling and spear fishing. This is a good spot for that, with lots and lots of fish of all kinds, in an easy depth. I managed to shoot four fish for dinner, and while I was doing that, had a fairly large tuna swim right by me! Never had that happen before. We finished the day with all of us on Mintaka for dinner. Quality time with good friends. A very good day, indeed.
Sunday, November 17, 2013
Baja HaHa
We are now tied up at Marina de La Paz in La Paz, Baja California Sur. It was over ten years ago that we were last here, and it's nice to be back. But there have been a few miles under the keel in getting here since my last post in Oxnard.
From there, we motored overnight to San Diego to prepare for the Baja HaHa, a cruiser rally of about a hundred and twenty-five sailboats, plus two power boats, from San Diego to Cabo San Lucas. The first event in the HaHa was a send-off party in the West Marine parking lot in San Diego. Now, I'm not much of a party animal, but that was a good party. I'm especially not much for costume parties, such as this one, but I have to admit to having a good time.
The first leg of the rally started off October 28th, a rainy, cold morning in San Diego. Again, I'm not much for crowds, but the sheer number of boats parading out of the harbor together, and then massing for the start, was rather impressive. The sailing conditions were great at the start, but quickly deteriorated to light-air and motoring. Good winds eventually arrived, though, and we had some truly fine sailing along the way.
The HaHa fleet made two stops down the Baja peninsula, first in a place called Turtle Bay, and further down at Bahia Santa Maria. Big parties at both places. Turtle Bay has a small remote village, but Santa Maria has only a tiny, seasonal fish camp. Both places see only occasional yachts most of the year, but a huge fleet with this annual event. At night, the anchor lights of the fleet made the bays look like small cities. The party at Bahia Santa Maria deserves special comment. For 364 days of the year, there is nothing there except a few fishermen and their families. For this one day each of the past twenty years, there's a party with several hundred people and a rock and roll band. This is a really remote place, and the party was just a little surreal.
The last leg of the rally ended in Cabo San Lucas, often called San Diego del Sur (San Diego South). It strikes me more like Las Vegas: noisy, touristy, with few if any redeeming features. Another huge beach party, and a final awards presentation. We took third place in our division, but so did everyone else except first and second.
Many boats fished along the way, but some must have had large freezers considering the number of fish they caught. We caught several nice tuna, only fishing again when we had eaten all of the previous catch. One boat reported catching some three dozen tuna. The fishing prize, though, went to the boat that caught a great white shark. They hauled it up part way out of the water for pictures, and estimated its weight at six hundred pounds.
Bronson and Maggie left us in Cabo, and we continued on to here by ourselves, finally on a schedule of our own choosing. Winds were generally light those several days, so we did a lot of motoring, but now we're here, relaxing and enjoying the warm, sunny days in an old favorite place.
We left San Diego with sixty-seven gallons of water in our tanks, plus two five-gallon jugs of emergency water on deck. After two weeks with four people on board, then another week with just the two of us, our tanks ran dry the night before coming in to the marina here. That averaged about a gallon per day per person, for all drinking, cooking and cleaning. We do have a water maker on board, but it was pickled, and I wanted to modify the plumbing before using it. We've used more water per day backpacking in the Grand Canyon.
One of the fun aspects of having crew is seeing things through their eyes. Things that seem common to us are big and new and exciting to them, which makes them so to us again. We've seen countless dolphins, and while we never tire of them, Maggie's squeals of delight at every one reminded us of our earlier encounters.
Mintaka is an unusual boat in some ways, very different from every other boat in the HaHa fleet. Even different from most, if not all, other Ingrid's. The most obvious difference is in the sails. Most ketches flying four working sails, the main and mizzen, and two headsails, the jib and staysail. If they have a light-air sail, it is most likely a spinnaker. We have a third headsail, a jib topsail, and our light-air sail is a mizzen staysail. It is unusual to have just the right wind conditions to fly all of these sails at the same time, and a bit of work to do so, but we had such an opportunity at one point. We also had the astounding good luck to do so at the precise moment that another HaHa boat was right next to us and taking pictures.
Landing on the beach in a dinghy can be challenging, even dangerous, on the Pacific coast of Mexico. When a heavy surf is pounding, good timing, speed and steel nerves are essential to a safe landing. Launching back out is even more tricky. We've never rolled the dinghy in the surf, but we've seen it done. After an absence of ten years, I was feeling a little rusty. So, I uncharacteristically employed discretion in Bahia Santa Maria, turning back from the surf, and paying a fisherman for a ride in.
Approaching La Paz, and especially Marina de La Paz, engendered some difficult-to-describe feelings. This was, once at least, a very familiar place. Now we felt like strangers where we should feel like locals. People dinghied up to welcome us and offer advice about local anchoring hazards, as we used to do, but, while overtly friendly and grateful, I felt a little put off being treated like the new kid on the block. Now that we're in the marina, getting settled, and having chatted with the owner, who we knew back then, those feelings are fading, but not completely gone.
One of the salient features of the cruising life, and perhaps the one I love the most, is living in contact with the people around us. We lived in the same house in Salt lake for over twenty years, and barely knew our neighbors. Here, people stop to talk so much that it inhibits chores. I love it.
Life on a boat has a rather basic quality to it. Little things, like running water and clean sheets mean so much. After three weeks sailing, the boat is pretty salty. Simply rinsing the deck and the cabin sole (floor) gives a pleasure that hardly compares with washing the kitchen floor. Coming in to a marina and having unlimited fresh water is a value that is difficult to measure. Having laundry facilities and hot, unlimited showers is the acme of desires.
The sailing between San Diego and Cabo San Lucas was a mixed bag. Because of the schedule, we motored more in light air than we might have, but we also had some truly fine sailing. We made some big changes to the rig in the last refit, and I'm still experimenting with different sail configurations for different purposes. I had envisioned a new downwind configuration for passage-making in the Trade Winds, and was able to test the concept pretty well on this trip. I am pleased to say that it was a great success. Mintaka seemed to enjoy it, sailing at good speed in the prevailing conditions, and well enough balanced that when the autopilot inadvertently shut off, we didn't notice. She just kept steering herself merrily along. Not many boats will do that.
From there, we motored overnight to San Diego to prepare for the Baja HaHa, a cruiser rally of about a hundred and twenty-five sailboats, plus two power boats, from San Diego to Cabo San Lucas. The first event in the HaHa was a send-off party in the West Marine parking lot in San Diego. Now, I'm not much of a party animal, but that was a good party. I'm especially not much for costume parties, such as this one, but I have to admit to having a good time.
The first leg of the rally started off October 28th, a rainy, cold morning in San Diego. Again, I'm not much for crowds, but the sheer number of boats parading out of the harbor together, and then massing for the start, was rather impressive. The sailing conditions were great at the start, but quickly deteriorated to light-air and motoring. Good winds eventually arrived, though, and we had some truly fine sailing along the way.
The HaHa fleet made two stops down the Baja peninsula, first in a place called Turtle Bay, and further down at Bahia Santa Maria. Big parties at both places. Turtle Bay has a small remote village, but Santa Maria has only a tiny, seasonal fish camp. Both places see only occasional yachts most of the year, but a huge fleet with this annual event. At night, the anchor lights of the fleet made the bays look like small cities. The party at Bahia Santa Maria deserves special comment. For 364 days of the year, there is nothing there except a few fishermen and their families. For this one day each of the past twenty years, there's a party with several hundred people and a rock and roll band. This is a really remote place, and the party was just a little surreal.
The last leg of the rally ended in Cabo San Lucas, often called San Diego del Sur (San Diego South). It strikes me more like Las Vegas: noisy, touristy, with few if any redeeming features. Another huge beach party, and a final awards presentation. We took third place in our division, but so did everyone else except first and second.
Many boats fished along the way, but some must have had large freezers considering the number of fish they caught. We caught several nice tuna, only fishing again when we had eaten all of the previous catch. One boat reported catching some three dozen tuna. The fishing prize, though, went to the boat that caught a great white shark. They hauled it up part way out of the water for pictures, and estimated its weight at six hundred pounds.
Bronson and Maggie left us in Cabo, and we continued on to here by ourselves, finally on a schedule of our own choosing. Winds were generally light those several days, so we did a lot of motoring, but now we're here, relaxing and enjoying the warm, sunny days in an old favorite place.
We left San Diego with sixty-seven gallons of water in our tanks, plus two five-gallon jugs of emergency water on deck. After two weeks with four people on board, then another week with just the two of us, our tanks ran dry the night before coming in to the marina here. That averaged about a gallon per day per person, for all drinking, cooking and cleaning. We do have a water maker on board, but it was pickled, and I wanted to modify the plumbing before using it. We've used more water per day backpacking in the Grand Canyon.
One of the fun aspects of having crew is seeing things through their eyes. Things that seem common to us are big and new and exciting to them, which makes them so to us again. We've seen countless dolphins, and while we never tire of them, Maggie's squeals of delight at every one reminded us of our earlier encounters.
Mintaka is an unusual boat in some ways, very different from every other boat in the HaHa fleet. Even different from most, if not all, other Ingrid's. The most obvious difference is in the sails. Most ketches flying four working sails, the main and mizzen, and two headsails, the jib and staysail. If they have a light-air sail, it is most likely a spinnaker. We have a third headsail, a jib topsail, and our light-air sail is a mizzen staysail. It is unusual to have just the right wind conditions to fly all of these sails at the same time, and a bit of work to do so, but we had such an opportunity at one point. We also had the astounding good luck to do so at the precise moment that another HaHa boat was right next to us and taking pictures.
Landing on the beach in a dinghy can be challenging, even dangerous, on the Pacific coast of Mexico. When a heavy surf is pounding, good timing, speed and steel nerves are essential to a safe landing. Launching back out is even more tricky. We've never rolled the dinghy in the surf, but we've seen it done. After an absence of ten years, I was feeling a little rusty. So, I uncharacteristically employed discretion in Bahia Santa Maria, turning back from the surf, and paying a fisherman for a ride in.
Approaching La Paz, and especially Marina de La Paz, engendered some difficult-to-describe feelings. This was, once at least, a very familiar place. Now we felt like strangers where we should feel like locals. People dinghied up to welcome us and offer advice about local anchoring hazards, as we used to do, but, while overtly friendly and grateful, I felt a little put off being treated like the new kid on the block. Now that we're in the marina, getting settled, and having chatted with the owner, who we knew back then, those feelings are fading, but not completely gone.
One of the salient features of the cruising life, and perhaps the one I love the most, is living in contact with the people around us. We lived in the same house in Salt lake for over twenty years, and barely knew our neighbors. Here, people stop to talk so much that it inhibits chores. I love it.
Life on a boat has a rather basic quality to it. Little things, like running water and clean sheets mean so much. After three weeks sailing, the boat is pretty salty. Simply rinsing the deck and the cabin sole (floor) gives a pleasure that hardly compares with washing the kitchen floor. Coming in to a marina and having unlimited fresh water is a value that is difficult to measure. Having laundry facilities and hot, unlimited showers is the acme of desires.
The sailing between San Diego and Cabo San Lucas was a mixed bag. Because of the schedule, we motored more in light air than we might have, but we also had some truly fine sailing. We made some big changes to the rig in the last refit, and I'm still experimenting with different sail configurations for different purposes. I had envisioned a new downwind configuration for passage-making in the Trade Winds, and was able to test the concept pretty well on this trip. I am pleased to say that it was a great success. Mintaka seemed to enjoy it, sailing at good speed in the prevailing conditions, and well enough balanced that when the autopilot inadvertently shut off, we didn't notice. She just kept steering herself merrily along. Not many boats will do that.
Tuesday, October 22, 2013
Back in Oxnard
We pulled in to the marina here this morning after a two-hour passage down from Ventura. We are extremely grateful for the hospitality our new friends Dave and Diane Wyman showed us in babysitting Mintaka for the past six weeks at their private dock. Their generosity spared us no end of cost and hassle in storing Mintaka for this period. We can't thank them enough.
We'll be here for two days, furiously stowing provisions, reinstalling the radar, scraping the propeller (fun with a snorkel!), and generally getting ready to head on to San Diego Thursday. We'll pick up our Salt Lake crew there, Bronson and Maggie Hawley, and head south into Mexico on Monday. More soon.
We'll be here for two days, furiously stowing provisions, reinstalling the radar, scraping the propeller (fun with a snorkel!), and generally getting ready to head on to San Diego Thursday. We'll pick up our Salt Lake crew there, Bronson and Maggie Hawley, and head south into Mexico on Monday. More soon.
Wednesday, August 28, 2013
Anacapa Isle Marina, Oxnard
The forecast today was for light air, so we didn't even bother taking the sail covers off. You'd think a forecast only an hour before the fact would be reasonably accurate, but you'd be wrong. We motored out of Santa Barbara harbor this morning and immediately set sail for a glorious beam-to-broad reach all the way here, starting with 5-10 kts, ending with 10-15 kts. Robyn was fishing, of course, and just as I was taking the topsail down when nearing the harbor, she hauls in a nice barracuda. Minor excitement to end the day. Actually, there was just a bit more. Marina operators have little clue about the information yachties need. Mintaka is difficult to maneuver in tight marinas, to say the least, especially with any breeze. Well, they gave us the slip number, but the numbers are hard to see, and by the time I saw it, it was too late downwind to make the turn. Thankfully, there was another open slip further downwind that we could turn in to, or it would have been a challenge to back out for another try.
Monday, August 26, 2013
Southern California
Up at 0430 to catch the tide -- why is it always so early? -- we cast off and motor out from Alameda towards the Golden Gate. Luck is with us; there's no fog this morning, so the stress level is way down. There's more wind than I would like, right on the nose, but it's not a problem until we're outside the Gate where we start struggling upwind and up swell. After an hour of smashing our way unpleasantly upwind, we're far enough out to raise sail and bear off to the south.
The run down to Santa Barbara was a mixed bag. Unlike the previous leg, we had wind the whole way. The two daylight periods gave us extraordinary sailing, but the two nights were not exactly restful. Luck stayed with us concerning fog, though. Except for the last half of the second night, visibility was good. Approaching Point Conception we ran into pea soup for a number of hours, but that burned off just as we were closing the point, giving us a magnificent view of the bold, rocky coast.
Point Conception is a divide for weather patterns, and the most amazing thing happens when rounding it. The weather gods turn the fan off and the heat lamp on, and you can't strip the foulies and longies off fast enough. You go from cold, windy sailing, often in the fog, to motoring on a flat sunny sea in just minutes. The abrupt transition is almost jarring.
So, we got into Santa Barbara late yesterday. Today, we rinsed the sails, washed the boat, did laundry, and said goodbye to Matt. Tomorrow, we'll day sail over to Ventura where Mintaka will hang out until late October. We will also have the pleasure there of meeting up with some cruiser friends, Brian and Lisa of the boat Glide, who have just finished a circumnavigation. We met them way back in Mexico, sailed with them off and on across the Pacific, and hung out with them in New Zealand until they sailed on westward.
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