An Expedition
Dec 9-10
Monday morning and the sea is glass. Not a ripple out there as far as you can see. Ill take our water jugs and try and locate 80 litres of potable water. Bill is off to the supermarket to reprovision our food.
After speaking with some locals, I make a walk half way across town with my two 10 litre Jerries for water.. This wont work well without a car or cart for that matter..
I soon find a gentleman with a restaurant across from the marina dingy dock that will gladly fill the remaining 60 litres of water for 50 pesos ($3.60) Fingers crossed it truly is ‘aqua purificada’
We are back to the boat, fed, and provisioned by noon. The afternoon is spent site seeing. I check the weather and notice a huge blow coming in first thing tomorrow directly from the exposed seas to the north. We scurry back to the boat, lift anchor, and slowly drift towards the inner bay just north of town. We hope the land will help cover some of this 30 knot winds scheduled of rip through the next 24-48 hours. We had multiple choices to ride this one out so the short 2 mile move is hopefully the right idea in this situation. Checking weather models and forecasting is part of this but it becomes a bit different when its your own boat. I’ve been a part of route planning and forecasting before but this feels different. Bill and I discuss what we think are our 3 or 4 real options and both agree this is best for now. Case closed. The next chapter will come and we will deal with it then.
7am the next morning and still not a terrible amount of wind. Happy Birthday Remi. I hop in the dingy and set out another 100’ foot of rode secured to our nice big backup plow anchor (40lb). This secondary anchor is set off the bow, 40° degrees from the main anchor as to not foul one another.
The perfectly sunny day is spent in the Gust. Rolling seas, a few naps, bit of sewing, and hamburgers for dinner.
Evening stroll around the boat looking for any chafing points that might show up this evening. She’s bundled up like a little Inuit baby mid winter.
Yes, evening reveals that our propane tank (last filled almost 30 days ago) in Guaymas is finally out. We spent $6 to refill it then and it lasted almost a month.
Nov 14 - Dec 10
10lb Propane filled and ran out. $6 both times
Nov 14 - Dec 10
5 litre petrol filled and refilled. $7 both times.
That’s impressive.
Along with the few hours on the inboard diesel engine, we have spent a very small amount of money on fuel for the first month / 266 miles of the journey at sea.
Dec 11
Nighttime never came with any calm. Sleep never came with any real rest. The boat rocked and it rolled throughout the night with things tipping over and new sounds from every nook and cranny on this ship. Up multiple times throughout the night checking the anchor as we sat in 30-40 knot winds. Very confused seas in this ‘bay’
When light finally broke, we were hauling up anchors just to get the hell out of there. Made the fast downwind run back to Loreto. We planned on rowing into shore for propane then leaving but the weather had something different planned for us. The winds actually increased as we made landfall. With the waves crashing onto shore, we made the decision to pull into the small Panga marina and use a dock to unload the propane tank. A lady worker quickly escorted us to the office for checkin! We asked what this was for and she said to use the dingy dock. We have been frugal thus far so the $280 pesos ($20) for the dock usage was okay with us.
We were stuck on land until 4pm! Watched the rolling waves coming in and knew if we attempted the exit on the Snuggler we would be pooched. We made the run for Struggler just after 4pm with no storm breaks in sight.
Sailed off to Corander at 5pm. Got a peaceful anchorage by 7pm. Probably one of the most exhilarating sails of the trip so far. We were drinking beers, fully reefed down, and watching the sun set behind us. Loreto’s dim lit lights tucked below the towering mountains slowly faded from view. On the sail over, we were in 10’ foot seas, looking down long troughs is an amazing experience, watching whitewater break, making 7.8 knots of speed on a number of occasions. “If you came here looking for anything better than this, you should probably pack for home” - BT (Jelle)
Into the tight cove of Puerto Balandra. We slide in under headsy’l only and easily give a wide berth to the other two boats anchored. No engine. Set er’ down in 14’ of water. 100’ of chain. We are buzzed. Bill called it drunk.
“A trip through an Erie landscape on a moonlit night”
Tomorrow I must bath in the sea. Up till 2:30am thinking about the sail in.
“When does ignorance and stupidity become a sin?”
Dec 12
Calm day in a bay.
Surely the possibilities were endless as the day dreamed.
A walk and fresh fish tacos for dinner. First bit of homesick. Missing the kids and a family at home. Maybe someone to play cribbage with.
Dec 13
Calm day with no forecast for winds but we must move on. Realizing it’s 11 days until Christmas and we have many stops to make before La Paz. No matter how it goes sailors are always late. With everything to see, it’s simply not possible to be on time.
The 8 hour day brings us out the west end of Isla Carmen, over the top peninsula, around the east shores, and tucked into Bahia La Salina. A day filled with steady winds never over 10 knots. An ideal Friday sail including a 2 hour spinnaker run done with ease. The landscapes remind me of leaving the ‘The Bay of Islands’ on the North Island off New Zealand. Majestic scenery only truly enjoyed while sailing by at walking speed.
We arrive in Bahia La Salina at 4pm. Dinner on board and off to bed.
Dec 14
6am
Morning winds change the plans to row to shore and explore the abandoned mining camp. There is also a wreck just below the waterline to dive down to but the northerlies howling in over the mountain pass make this plan impossible. Dang.
While about to leave at 9am. The winds die out and I’m able to make the row to shore. This old community was a salt mine settlement in the 50’s until the shut down in 1980. Strolling on shore there’s a white church, old office buildings, maintenance rooms, garages, boat wrecks, and dock ruins scattered on the shore. Inside the buildings I open receipt books and payroll binders that clear as day show the last seasons of work in 1980. The preservation is hard to believe really. Lots of equipment and machines left from 45 years ago! Time is racing by so surely I must be getting older.
I spot 2 yellow forklifts left like they were just recently moving pallets. They both sat rusty under the hot sun with large cactus growing in the drivers seats. I had a good laugh and made a little video to send little Fin back home. He would love that kind of thing. Curious little dude.
Perfectly preserved pelican skull found on shore. I’ll call him Steve and hang it above the navigation station onboard. Surely this is not considered clutter?? Wow.
Back at the boat we have the hook up right before noon. Sails go up, Hammer goes down. We are pointed 40° degrees off a downwind run making the first few hours a dream sail. Winds slow down, we spin around in a waltz, and slowly inch around the southern point of Carmen Island.
The next few hours are like no other sailing experience. As we head through the small channel over to Isla Danzante we are faced with another sailor heading up the channel, our tacking back and forth make for an obvious race. If there’s another sailboat on the water it’s always a race.
We tack - tack - tack and he constantly gains on us. While rounding the northern most tip, fresh 20 knots of winds appear, our toerails buried under deep dark blue water. The fellow Canadian boat pulls ahead of us and is clearing smoking us right now. Maybe our boat rating is worse than his ;) Both sides of the channel show unending cliffs boiling white waters below. This was a time to remain under sail.
We pull around the northern rocks, furl in the Genoa, and follow him into Honeymoon Cove under the mainsail alone. This tiny cove on Isla Danzante is intimidating as there are only 3 small lobes to tuck into. Cruisers Guide says north lobe can hold 1 medium sized boat, central 2-3 boats, and south can hold 1. I’m seeing depths jump from 100’ to 30’ feet right beside the rocky breaking shores. We sail in 2 large circles in the bay to try and find a place to lay a spike. Each of the 3 lobes (north, central, and south) have 1 sailboat in them each and the captains body language up on the bow doesn’t look much like sharing a camp spot. We spin 1 more large loop slowing under mainsail and tuck into the tiny southern lobe that currently holds 1 small catamaran who is 10’-12’ feet off the rocks behind him! I think to myself I’m glad this anchorage happened later in the trip (or in my life for that matter).
̶I̶t̶’̶s̶ ̶s̶t̶r̶e̶s̶s̶f̶u̶l̶.̶ ̶
It’s for the Struggler.
We drop anchor in 35’ of water yet its still frisbee throwing distance from shore. We drift back with the wind and let out 140’ of rode. Feels like our booty buts up onto the rocks/cliffs behind. Bill rows towards shore with the stern anchor in the dinky dinghy. It’s placed in shallow waters and we are good for the night. I have an unused anchor alarm app on my phone that is fired up and set tonight. No problems.
Cervesa and a smoke for anchor watch. Full moon slides above the steep rocks directly above. A moment like this is spent wondering how this actually happened. The point is this actually did happen. The few years of questioning a sailing plan feels like it almost worked out tonight.
“You kick a rock down here and out comes another Canadian”
-fellow sailor at anchor from Lethbridge, Alberta (39’ footer. smoked us in the race)
Dec 15
“It was spring of 1959 in Taupiri, North Island, New Zealand. Apparently I have become a dairy farmer and to cut a long story shorter, was doing all the chores that a farm labourer might do. There were no electric pumps so I had to milk the 70 head herd by hand twice a day. Not a bad job sitting there on the stool with your head pressed against the cows warm flank, pulling teats, drifting with the tide as it were. I enjoyed the sound of the slightly blueish tinted milk tinkering as it hit the bucket”
-excerpt from ‘The Long Way Round’ by John Nelson
Short sail over to Puerto Escondido which is the Bajas most protected harbour. The holding bay inside is almost completely landlocked with the exception of the 200’ foot wide entrance channel. The harbour can hold up to 150 boats in the summer hurricane season. We notice from chatting with other cruiser that this place is ritzy and they now do not allow anchoring outside the bay to dingy in. We decide to sail in just south of the marina, drop anchor, and dingy in. Obviously the gated perimeter means they like boats to come in and pay the $20 anchoring fee plus the $20 dingy dock fee. We walk in grab and grab fresh produce from the small convenience store, 2 coronas each, and head back to the boat. This place is like a fancy resort they tried to make in 2007 but the people (boats) never showed up. A Malibu in the middle of the desert with no paying customers..
9 mile south to a very exposed Bahia Candeleros. We notice a 5 star resort with an 18 hole golf resort tucked in the bay. We have dinner and hatch a plan to ‘break in’ tonight and dream about a hottub or a swim up bar? We wait until dark and start the long row in the shallow beach. Before we even make landfall, a nice little Mexican night security guard starts asking if we have reservations! We say no but we would love to see the facility. He grabs our boat name, asks both of our names, and radios into the main office. DANG!!
He instructs us to follow along behind him. We walk through a maze of paving stone walkways lit up with hot tubs, fire places, pools, multiple restaurants and FANCY folk everywhere. A live band plays in the huge center area of the beach side of the resort. We walk through the all glass front entrance and are welcomed in! The only thing I say to the guy behind the desk was “We are on a sailboat and don’t have a room”. The young man in his early 20’s smiles and grabs us 2 wristbands and opens his arm to the main gate signalling we can make our way in. The facility is massive. We enjoy a hot Jacuzzi and shower. The fire pits along the beach are a nice way to decompress. By the time we decide to leave at 9pm there is nobody around. I mean its dead around here. No night life. These swingers (golfers) sure know how to let loose and party! Ghosttown.
We later hear (from my mother) that rooms cost $600 per night and the golf course is a word famous TPC course called Danzante Bay and costs $300 per round. This experience was hard to believe but the northerlies screaming down the Baja made us pay for it. Up all night with rocking boat and no coverage. Maybe not the best choice for the night but in my opinion, it was worth it for the muscle relaxing hot tub.
Up until 2am for some reason.
The only memory/image I have of Puerto Escondido is above. Bleak
Dec 16
Slow moarning. Billy feels like shit as he has been up since midnight. The boat has been rattling and banging all night making it not the best one yet. Im hung over to the max and wonder if we can even get anywhere today.
Stiff coffee makes things just right. I’ve spent the last hour reading the charts and looking into the cruisers guide for this area. Struggler makes the call and says “a 19 miles sail straight down to Ague Verge (Green Water)".
Our exit out of the bay requires tacking back and forth to slip out into the channel. No engine.
The next few moments happened so fast it’s hard to remember back at.
Billy lands another tuna and pulls it aboard. I swing the boom back to our sailing angle with maybe a little too much slack in the mainsheet and BOOM. The running backstay slaps his rod up out of the rod holder and into the water! We notice the rod is not immediately sinking so Billy makes the 1 second decision to drop his hat (which was his late Grandfathers) and dives in towards the slowly sinking rod. We have our first man overboard situation and he swims in the direction of the sinking rod. The rod, which belonged to his late father Tom slowly sinks into the big blue… I see the sadness in his face as he stops swimming and treads water looking ahead where the rod once was. That one hurts. Back on board we decided to tie his second trolling rod to the rails and we spend the next few hours straight faced, somber, staring out into the dark blue.
The tides change, as they do every day.
We gently gybe this baby south. It doesn’t take long to remember why we are doing this right now.
Genoa goes in. Spinnaker comes out.
Spinnaker goes in, Genoa comes out.
“The quality of the journey has to take precedence over the destination”
-John Nesling
8 sailboats anchored in the tiny cute bay facing north. A few campers on shore explain its 25 miles of dirt roads taking 1.5 hours from the main highway to get out here! Im always amazed by how long it takes campers to get into these remote areas and then remember it just took us 6 hours to sail half the distance they just did… 6 hours. 18.5 miles today.
Full moon comes up. Poseidon gave and tooketh today.
Into the tiny berth for the night.
Boat Names
“Fast Lady”
Dec 17
Departure from Ague Verde under sails. Barely. Billy on helm and we tried our best to stay north of the crashing cliffs and rocks to our south. We were an hour in when winds slowly came to a halt. Drifting towards shore and we hadn’t started the engine this morning. We fired up the engine (with some difficulty) and placed it into gear. It was the first time using the engine for sailing to a destination since leaving San Carlos on November 21. To me, 26 days with no engine assist was insane. Never imagined going that far under sails alone. I then zoom into the paper charts to notice a north facing tiny bay that has been used as a small summertime anchorage. I quietly mention (under my breath in a hesitating joking manner) we could have drifted into that bay in an emergency. He didn’t look thrilled by that idea and stared forward. The hypothetical thought exercise was only made to practise not relying on your engine and have a backup plan for every scenario ;)
The vibrating engine only ran for a half hour before winds picked up and we made our 20 mile downwind run to Tembabichi. Slid into anchorage number 19 of this journey. Dropping anchor in 14’ feet of water and paying out 100’ of chain. Local fisherman motors over with fresh fish. We purchase a large grouper for $150 pesos ($11CAN) One of the best dinners yet as we cook it with a veggie pack (potato, onion, garlic, capsicum, cabbage) and rice on the Mesquite charcoal BBQ.
At this point everything feels more like a real expedition than a weekend out sailing. Bill has made comments about not spending much time at each anchorage. I understand that lately there’s been a bit of a rush but I feel we really need to get to La Paz for Christmas. I don’t like rushing or having deadlines either but a phonecall to my family for Christmas felt important. Besides we are sleeping in established anchorages each night and only sailing in the daytime. Regardless, I truly understand his frustration and exhaustion.
Things will improve.
Feeling more connected to the sailing than ever before. It takes time to drop the needle and settle into the right groove.
Dec 18
Big sail day ahead to reach San José Island.
"With sailing you get to see a lot of new places, you always have projects to do, and you’re always figuring out new ways of keeping the boat functional and most importantly safe”
-Naomi Crum
Full day downhill (this might be a theme). Land the biggest fish of this trip yet. BigTuna. Great sunny day with light winds to start, changing to moderate winds sliding into the fully protected anchorage well known as San Evaristo.
Another 27 miles chewed off.
I mention on arrival we can rest up here and there’s no rush to leave. Billy can make the decision on when and where to leave this bay.
The land is slowly becoming more lush. We are watching the slow transformation from brown desert to green, heading 1 mile south at a time.
Dec 19
Calm night with no banging or waves.
San Evaristo for a day off and rest. Journal update and water top up.
The restaurant/bar ashore is a place where they leave for the afternoon and tell you to write what you ate or drank in the guestbook.. Square up when you leave ;)
Dec 20
9 mile sail out to Isla Coyote. One of the only small permanently inhabited island in the Sea of Cortez. The tiny 2.5 acre island has had a few families fishing and living full time since 1923. A little too rough to row to shore for a tour but the place looks very charming.
Another day disappears.
Dec 21
In a perfect little oval bay called Isla San Francisco.
Hot.
Scrubbed the bottom of the Struggler. We are now in fact growing a bit of moss below!
Hike the ridge. Large Dorado on the fly.
Dec 22
26 miles sailed down to Isla Espiritu Santo.
Back in April, on the delivery of The Struggler from La Paz to Guaymas, we had to miss all these islands due to the time restraints.
These unbelievably cool turquoise bays are not skipped this time. We spend a very calm night in Ensenada El Gallo.
“It’s a nice night for an evening”
Dec 23
La Paz ♥
Feels like a dream to sail back here with the Struggler. 430 miles sailed since launching in Guaymas November 15th.
We avoid the busy marina / stacked up anchorage and find a perfect little spot just off of the beach. 12’ of water.
Settle. Settle.
We will see you in 2025.
I wander, I roam, and I write home. That I’m sorry. I wont leave it this late again.
La Paz has been such a great place to relax and regroup. A good place to sit under a tree and wonder what the f*ck am I doing? Time on land has been more than refreshing but the itch to sail returns. My First Mate Billy and I had a great chat and he has decided to continue his adventures on land from here on. The last few months have been an adventure we won’t be letting go of anytime soon. It’s sad seeing him go but we always talked about him staying until he felt like he wanted something else. ♥
“The Journal of Lost Time”
