Mantanchen Bay and San Blas

We left Isla Isabella on the morning of December 7th. It was a cloudy, blustery day, and it rained on us as we sailed east-southeast toward Mantanchen Bay. Most of the morning we were close reaching into 15-20 knots of wind from the northeast with a single reef in the main and a partially furled jib, making about 4 knots. At lunch time I fell off, south of the rhumbline, in order to get more speed and reduce the heeling (so that Claudia would have an easier time making lunch). This turned out to be a good move. The wind shifted North as we closed with the coast, giving us an excellent angle. We made 5-6 knots most of the afternoon and passed San Blas about sunset.. At that point it started raining again. Visibility was poor and our electronic charts were again off by about a mile and a half. Luckily, the anchor lights on other cruising boats guided us into the anchorage. We anchored over a mile off the beach, but in only 20 feet of water.

The next day we took our dinghy into the beach, where we found a row of palapa restaurants. Many of the restaurants were staffed but we appeared to be the only potential customers. We left our dinghy in the care of one of the restauranteurs and walked out to the highway, looking for a bus to San Blas. Before the bus came, a taxi offered to take us in for 20 pesos.

We spent the day looking at the old town of San Blas. It has a nice marina (up a river from Mantanchen Bay) and a pretty town square, but not much else that interested us. The famous bells of San Blas (immortalized in a poem by Longfellow, that speaks somewhat jingoistically of the decline of Spanish civilization, and the rise of Anglo-American culture) were represented in a ruined church that looked like it had been built well after Longfellow's time. We heard there is a good river tour but we would have needed another day to take that, and we decided not to spend another day.

We got back to the beach near sunset and felt obligated to have dinner in the restaurant where we had left the dinghy. This turned out to be a mistake. At sunset the notorious, biting sand flies of Mantanchen Bay swarmed forth. The restaurant provided insect repellant along with the chips and salsa, and we used it liberally. They also burned coconut husks which, they assured us, would repel the bugs. But it was all to no avail. As we ate our pescado al ajo, the bugs ate us. They crept up under our clothing and found areas of skin that we failed to cover in chemicals. We had itchy bites all over.

In the morning we sailed south again, heading for Banderas Bay.

Here are a few shots of San Blas and Mantanchen Bay. It is pretty, but I don't think we'll be coming back.

Isla Isabella

We left Mazatlan on December 3rd and sailed southeast to Isla Isabella, an island famous as a nesting site for frigate birds and boobies. We had light winds and calm seas the whole way. We left Mazatlan around noon and arrived at the island around 9 the next morning. It was exciting to see the island appear on the horizon in the early morning light--although it was not exactly where it was supposed to be. My new Navionics electronic charts show the island about a mile and half southeast of where it actually is.

We anchored in a beautiful little bay on the south side of the island. This bay is a notorious "anchor eater" so we buoyed our anchor and hoped for the best. When we went ashore we were stunned to see so many nesting birds so close to the beach and hiking trails. The birds seemed completely unafraid of humans--some of them seemed to be posing for pictures, turning their heads one way and then another, as if trying to show me their best side.

The island has no permanent human population, but a group of panganeros (fishermen) were camped in shacks on the beach. We also met members of a diving group from San Blas, who were camped in an abandoned building.

On our second day, we circumnavigated the island in our kayaks. It was a rainy day, with ominous clouds, but the scenery was still spectacular. On the east side of the island are some tall rock spires that rise from the sea called the Monas. We found a HaHa boat named Liberty anchored in the lee of the Monas, but the crew had gone to shore.

The third day we went ashore again with my Nikon camera and walked over the whole island, taking lots of pictures. Some of the best are shown below.

In Mazatlan

We have spent over two weeks in this friendly, beautiful city. We were greeted warmly by members of the cruiser community who live in the marina. Some of them stay here year around, others winter here and spend summers in the north, still others, like us, are just passing through. They have been a tremendous resource--helping us find parts needed for boat projects, educating us about nearby cruising destinations, and encouraging us to explore. On our first day, Cap'n Mike of Sea Wolf took us down to the harbor, explained how to use the bus system, and pointed out various sites. We have been using the buses on a daily basis to go all over the city.

We signed up for Spanish classes at a local language school. Claudia and I had a private class with our own teacher, Rosie, who quickly assessed our (limited) Spanish and helped us learn more. We received 2 hours of instruction every morning, after which we went out for lunch in one of the many local restaurants. This city is famous for seafood. We are especially fond of the camarones, which go particularly well with Pacifico beer, which is produced locally.

When we arrived we were exhausted and grumpy--ready to give up the so-called cruising lifestyle. We quickly recovered, however, and have had a lot of fun here. We had Thanksgiving dinner with a big group of cruisers at the marina and have met a lot of truly interesting people with boats. We have met fewer Mexicans, although we really like our Spanish teacher Rosie.

I've spent some time on academic projects. I revised a manuscript for Jurimetrics, and I wrote a short article for Law & Human Behavior, so my sabbatical, while recreational, has allowed for a little productivity.

At this point we are looking forward to moving on. We will head south for Isla Isabella tomorrow.

Our only complaints are about the facilities at Marina Mazatlan. Our dock was a long way from the bathroom and is right next to a restaurant, Fufu, that continually has open mike nights. This provides us free entertainment every night, which is largely good except for one thing. Every aging rocker who passes through does a set at Fufu and they all do a version of a song we have come to loath through over-exposure--Jimmy Buffet's Margaritaville.

The first symptoms of JBO (Jimmy Buffett Overload) appeared in Claudia during the trip down the coast of Baja. We listened to the "Margaritaville" channel on Sirius Satelite Radio for hours on end (as seemed appropriate), until Claudia screamed that if she heard another Jimmy Buffett song she would, well, scream. Fortunately, there are about a hundred other channels on Sirius. But it was impossible to change the channel on the live music at Fufu's. Claudia and I kept a running tally of MTM (minutes to Margaritaville), and it was rarely more than 60. Some of the performers do it several times a night. I know it is considered a classic (of the palapas and beer genre of popular music), but you can have too much of a good thing. I'm so conditioned that when I blew out my flip flop on the Malecon I immediately started looking for dangerous pop-tops, and new tattoos.

Below are some pictures of Mazatlan. The unfortunate sailboat Dream Catcher dragged anchor during a hurricane last Fall and was wrecked. We are having a great time, but intend to be long out of hurricane season.

Crossing the Sea of Cortez

On November 14 we sailed out of Los Frailes anchorage, heading for Mazatlan. The weather predictions called for moderate conditions. Within a couple hours of leaving it was clear that something more was going on. Dark clouds appeared from the north, and the winds picked up to about 20 knots. We saw rain squalls approaching and dark patches of rain ahead. We tried to steer between the squalls. "Go toward the light," Claudia said. But the rain eventually caught up with us. It was a torrential. We huddled under the dodger and let the autopilot steer. As the winds picked up we were heeling so far to starboard that one of our kayaks, which was in a rack outside the starboard lifelines, was hit by a wave and jarred loose. The bow of the kayak was tethered to the boat, but the stern banged against the side, bouncing up and down in the waves. I went forward and had to lasso it like a cowboy to bring it under control. At that point, we put a second reef in the mainsail, which stabilized the boat. We went tearing along, making over 7 knots, with double-reefed sails. As the seas grew choppy, I fell off the wind to give us a better angle on the waves. I was worried for a while that we'd end up in Puerto Vallarta rather than Mazatlan. Eventually the squalls passed and the wind moderated, but we had a fast trip across the sea. We reached Mazatlan 30 hours after leaving Los Frailes. There we radioed Marina Mazatlan. They assigned us a slip and we entered the marina through a narrow channel. As with the previous overnight passages, we were pretty tired when we arrived. We didn't realize that cruising would be so rigorous, or so exhausting.

Here is a picture of the marina.

Los Frailes

On November 11, we motorsailed from Cabo San Lucas up the east side of Baja to an anchorage known as Los Frailes (the Friers). We faced a strong headwind all the way up and were happy to make it into the sheltered anchorage.

The anchorage was crowded with over 30 boats. This is a major stopping point between Cabo and La Paz, as well as being a jumping off point for crossing the Sea of Cortez to Mazatlan and Puerto Vallarta.

There is a beautiful beach here, and a few houses, but no hotels or restaurants. Just north of Cabo Los Frailes is the Cabo Pulmo National Marine Park. We visited by kayak one day and by dinghy the next, and spent a lot of time snorkeling on a beautiful coral reef. We made our first successful beach landing with our new dinghy wheels.

Ready to Leave Cabo

We bid a fond farewell to Janet and Paul on November 8th, as they headed to the airport and back to work. We could not have had a better crew and we learned a lot from sailing with them. We had a great dinner out at the famous Trailer Park restaurant (at least one of the famous Trailer Park restaurants) the night before they left.

We refilled the propane bottles (ours and Julia Morgan's). After extensive searching for Cuba Libre brand rum learned that there is no such thing--a Cuba Libre, we were assured, is a cocktail that cam be made with any kind of rum. Who knew? There is nothing like a sailing trip to make one more worldly. In any event, we got a nice bottle of rum for the folks on Julia Morgan--who richly deserved it for helping us out.

At the awards ceremony for the HaHa we learned that we had tied for third place in our division. We received a nice little trophy along with all the other people who tied for third place (a group encompassing everyone who did not place first or second). It was a fun event. We also heard from the skipper of the unfortunate J World about her disasterous encounter with a whale. The whale probably deserves acquittal on grounds of self-defense, but the incident holds important lessons about the importance of ditch bags, E-PIRBs and liferafts, and about the importance of correctly deploying them.

We purchased a broadband internet card from TelCel (the Mexican cellphone company) that seems to work well in Cabo, at least. It allowed me to check e-mail and catch up on some academic projects.

I also got caught up on boat maintenance. I changed the oil in the engine. I also sewed on a new plastic sail car that was generously provided by Rick McCreedy. Rick is the sailmaker who got us our spinnaker. He came down in the HaHa on Saint Mary II.

After three nights in the marina, we moved out into the anchorage, which is off the main beach near the biggest resort hotels. It is pretty here, but crowded and noisy. We are ready to be off and will head up the coast tomorrow.

On to Cabo

We left Bahia Santa Maria with the rest of the fleet on the morning of November 4th. Winds were light the first morning, but by the afternoon had picked up, creating beautiful sailing conditions.

Some of the skippers seemed to take the racing aspect of this race/rally a little too seriously. The boat shown below used racing tactics to overtake us--putting us in their wind shadow. While we slowed with sails luffing they came uncomfortably close to our stern, before blowing by us with a wave goodbye. We were not in direct competition with them as our boats are in different divisions, but the skipper seemed to enjoy slamming by us. We watched as he repeated this tactic with another boat.

They passed close enough to us that we could see that the ATN tacker they were using to tether their spinnaker was starting to deform their headstay foil--a potentially expensive problem. We were so rattled by their close approach that we somehow forgot to mention it to them.

By evening we decided to put in a reef, just to be safe, and sailed through the night making good time. We had another close encounter during the night with a highly improved catamaran that came up behind us on the starboard side, running wing and wing, while we were on starboard tack. I fell off to try to get out of their way, but they crept up closer and closer to us, putting us in a position where it looked like I would have to jibe to keep them from running into us. Because we clearly had the right of way, I hailed them on the radio and asked their intentions. By that time they were close enough to our starboard side to speak to me directly--the crew shouted directions about what channel I should use to speak to their skipper. When the skipper told me his intention was to hold his course (he was then about 30 feet away from our starboard side and was edging gradually closer, as I was sailing by the lee), I asked him, as politely as I could, if he would be willing to head up a few points so I wouldn't be forced to jibe. He made comments about the failure of monohull sailors to understand the tracking requirements of multi-hulls, but did head up enough to avoid hitting us. I thanked him for this "courtesy."

We also had to maneuver that night to get out of the way of a huge cruise ship that overtook us on its way to Cabo. Thankfully, the AIS gave us plenty of warning of its approach, speed and heading.

We reached Cabo without further incident about 3 the following afternoon. By the time we entered the harbor I was very tired, and I felt a bit frazzled as jet skis buzzed around us and sport fishing boats motored by in the narrow channel. But we made it into the marina, where the HaHa organizers had found us a slip. We opened some wine to celebrate a successful trip. And then headed for the showers.

Here are shots of the famous arch and rocks at land's end, and one of the marina.

From Turtle Bay to Bahia Santa Maria

We left Turtle Bay on the morning of November 1st and arrived at Bahia Santa Maria almost 48 hours later. It was a calm passage with light winds from the SE. It became noticeably warmer and brighter as we got farther south. This benign weather is closer to what we expected during the HaHa and a great relief after the heavy weather earlier.

Here are some pictures taken along the way--as well as one of Paul on the foredeck making use of the solar shower.

On to Turtle Bay

On the morning of HaHa Day 4, Janet and Paul spent more time sewing up the genoa. There were tears in three places in the suncover on the leach of the sail. The most serious tear went all the way through and needed a patch. We were, by then, behind most of the HaHa fleet, but I was reluctant to leave Punta Baja until we had made repairs.

We then headed south in relatively light air, which was a relief. Stray Cat followed us by a few miles (although they later passed us during the night). The folks on Passage II elected to motor back to San Diego for repairs.

The swells were still large from the passing of the storm, creating a strong roll. It wasn't the most comfortable passage, but we made good progress. By the next morning we had reached the north end of Cedros Island. We elected to go inside and motorsailed down the island's east side in light air. We reached Turtle Bay at 3:30 pm, too late for the famous HaHa beach party, but in time to take a panga into town for dinner at a small restaurant.

The next morning (October 31) most of the HaHa fleet set off for Bahia Santa Maria. We elected to stay another day in order to refuel and refill our water tanks with purified water. We also needed time to address another problem--we had lost all our propane. A leak had developed in the connections between the supply hose and the new regulator. Luckily, the leak occurred in the propane locker, which channelled the gas safely out through the bottom of the boat rather than into the cabin.

During the morning radio net, we explained our problem and the folks on Julia Morgan offered to loan us a spare propane bottle. We were extremely grateful. We promised to return the propane bottle full in Cabo along with a bottle containing the beverage of their choice. The skipper of Julia Morgan asked for Cuba Libre--which we took to be a kind of rum.

Here is a picture of Turtle Bay. Also a picture of the helpful Julia Morgan. The boat, we later learned, is named for Julia Morgan the architect, who designed a number of important buildings in the Bay area, as well as San Simeon.

HaHa Day 3

On the morning radio net, the Poobah suggested that everyone make an early departure from San Quintin. Winds and seas were expected to build in the afternoon, but were predicted to be more moderate farther south. Unfortunately, our departure was delayed by the discovery of a significant amount of water in the bilge. Janet and Paul reported that the bilge pump ran a lot during the night (I couldn't hear it in the v-berth). By morning the automatic float switch had failed and the bilge was filling with water. The first clue was salt water standing in the bottom of the kitchen sinks. As the boat got lower in the water the sink drains had dipped below the waterline. The bilge pump still functioned in manual mode, which allowed us to pump out the water, and no harm was done to the boat, but I did not want to put to sea without finding the leak.

I suspected a loose stuffing box, but a quick survey disclosed evidence of a leak near the anti-siphon valve in the engine's raw water system. I also noticed not one but two broken hose clamps on the exhaust hose connecting the engine exhaust manifold and the muffler box, and worried water (and maybe exhaust) might be leaking there as well. I thought the stuffing box was most likely culprit because water had obviously come in during the night, when the engine was not running. But I took time to fix the leaks in the raw water system and replace the broken clamps on the exhaust system anyway.

Getting to the stuffing box required disconnecting and moving the four lead-acid batteries in the main battery bank. The battery boxes are under the cockpit right where a body needs to be to reach the propeller shaft. I eventually got my hand on the stuffing box nuts, and found it was indeed loose and leaking. I snugged it up until the flow was reduced to an occasional drip, and that solved the problem. While I worked on the leak problem, Janet did a great job sewing up some tears in the suncover on the genoa.

By then it was almost noon, and the wind had built during the morning. I could hear it whistling in the rigging as I put away my tools. We were the last boat in the fleet to leave San Quintin and, as it turned out, we should have just stayed. We set our mainsail with a single reef, and headed off on a broad reach, but before we were even out of the bay we were feeling overpowered by the wind, so we put in a second reef and unrolled only a bit of the genoa.

As we entered the open seas, the wind was over 25 knots and the waves kept building. The wave action soon overwhelmed the ability of the autopilot to hold the boat on course, and we yawed from side to side on the high waves, creating a danger of an accidental jibe. I took the helm and managed to hold the stern quarter of the boat to the swells, but it often required full rudder to do so, as the boat surfed down the steep waves. According to the GPS we were regularly hitting 13 knots during the downward slides. The waves loomed up high behind us. As they lifted the boat, we could look down into the deep troughs--it was a long way down. I was tiring, and the crew was no longer having fun, so we decided to seek shelter again after only a few hours. Luckily we were only ten miles north of a spit of land called Punta Baja which could shelter us from the northwest swells. We headed for it.

The last few miles were a challenge as the wind and waves continued to build. By the end the waves appeared to be more than 20 feet from crest to trough, with steep sides. As we entered shallow water near the coast, the wave crests began to break. We later learned that Mahalo, a Cal 40, had a wave break over the stern that damaged their dodger and filled their cabin with water. We managed to avoid being pooped, but probably more due to luck than skill, as I had to focus my full attention ahead and was not able to look back to see where and when the crests were breaking.

We were then running downwind on starboard tack with only the double-reefed main up. In retrospect, we might have been better off to have dropped the main entirely and run with just the headsail. Once we were out in the waves, however, there was no easy way to drop the main. To relieve wind pressure on the sail enough to drop it, I would have needed to turn into the wind, which would have been dangerous. I would also have needed to send someone to the mast to release the halyard, which I was reluctant to do in those conditions.

To get behind Punta Baja, we needed to jibe the mainsail and head to port. We timed the jibe well, completing it while we were in a trough, which reduced the wind pressure. We went tearing past Punta Baja through big swells and eventually reached the protection of the point. The wind was still blowing hard, with gusts over 35 knots, but we were out of the big seas and were able to anchor securely and rest.

Sheltered behind Punta Baja we found seven other HaHa boats: Black Dragon, Delfice,Interlude, Lilia Del Mar, Moon Dance, Sea Siren and Stray Cat. We were soon joined by Passage II, which had a broken goose neck. The VHS chatter suggested that everyone was relieved to be tucked out of danger. Like us, most of the others were a bit rattled by the heavy weather. We dubbed the group the Punta Baja Yacht Club and promised to have t-shirts made when (and if) we reach Cabo.

Steve on Black Dragon helped calm everyone down by organizing a formal radio net and giving us reports on weather files he had downloaded by SSB. He was a thoughtful voice of reason in a tense situation, which was greatly reassuring. He earned the title of Commodore of the Punta Baja Yacht Club.

Part of the concern arose from the terrible news that one of the HaHa boats had been lost. A boat called J World had reportedly struck a whale, which damaged the hull so seriously that the boat sank. Luckily the crew was rescued by the Coast Guard--but the HaHa's 15 year record of safe passages was now broken. We spent a lot of time talking about the relative hull strength of various boats. It felt better to be on a heavily built cruiser like Sabbatical than a fragile J-Boat.

All the boats had some damage--mostly torn sails. The most serious damage was to Passage II. Their keel had gotten tangled in a long fishing line earlier in the day. In the process of getting loose they had accidentally jibed in the strong winds, which broke the metal fitting that connects the boom to the mast--a serious problem indeed. Our assessment of Sabbatical showed more tearing in the luff of the jib. Also, one of the plastic cars that hold the mainsail to the mast was broken, as well as two of the cars that hold the main to the boom. I had no replacements, but it was not a disabling problem--we could still sail to Cabo.

HaHa Day 2

Winds were light in the morning, but Janet pointed to a rather ominous mackerel sky, signalling the approach of the storm front. By afternoon, we encountered a heavy swell from the northwest, another sign of the approaching storm. The original HaHa itinerary had us going from San Diego all the way to Turtle Bay, about half way down the Baja coast, but there was no way we could get that far before the storm hit, so we decided to head for a protected anchorage at San Quintin, about 180 miles south of San Diego.

As we approached San Quintin bay we had a mishap with our foresail, a roller furling genoa. We were running down wind and the main was blanketing the headsail, causing it to slat. The rolling of the boat in the heavy swells increased this problem, so we decided to furl the genoa. As we released tension on the working sheet, however, the rolling of the boat created a whipping action on the clew of the genoa, causing the sheets to tangle and creating a knot around the forestay. This made further furling impossible. The winds were well above 20 knots and the fouled genoa was flapping wildly and hard to control, in danger of tearing itself apart.

I started the engine and turned into the wind, while Paul went forward to try to untangle the sheets. By then we were in relatively shallow water, near the entrance to San Quintin bay, and the swells were steep and high. Paul had a wild bucking bronco ride on the bow, as the boat pitched up and down at a 45 degree angle. He could barely hang on and had no chance to untangle the sheets.

Not knowing what else to do, we decided to drop the genoa to the deck. We released the halyard and Paul managed to slide the luff out of the foil on the headstay, gradually sliding the sail down to the deck, where he sat on it and used his strength to keep the strong wind from blowing it off the boat. We motored into the bay that way. In the bay we found protection from the swells. It is a windy night, but the anchor is holding and we have another storm anchor ready to deploy, so all is well. There is some damage to the genoa but thanks to Paul's good deck work, nothing we can't repair.

San Quintin is full of boats. It looks like half the HaHa fleet is here. Despite the wind, people are in high spirits. The folks on Pacific Mystic announced that they had baked an apple pie but (alas) didn't offer any to us.

Here is Paul in a more relaxed moment.

The HaHa Begins

On October 26 the 190 HaHa boats paraded out of San Diego bay, past television cameras, and headed for the starting line.




We managed to get off to a great start by heading far out to sea, where we found good wind. We beat many of the larger boats to the Coronados Islands, but after that they began slowly overtaking us. Even with our spinnaker flying, we can't keep pace with boats 10-15 feet longer than ours. But it was gorgeous watching boats come up behind us with full spinnakers on beautiful calm seas.

Here is Janet, trimming our spinnaker, and a shot of the spinnaker up and drawing in light air.





Here are a few shots of boats overtaking us. The sight was so stunning, we didn't mind at all.





At nightfall of the first day, the wind died and we motorsailed through the night. In the early morning hours we encountered heavy fog and I wished, for the first time, that we had a radar. But we made it through the soup, blowing our air horn every few minutes, and as far as I know we never came near another boat.

Here are shots of Janet and Paul getting ready for their night watch on the first night.

The Skippers's Briefing and HaHa Pre-Party

The cruisers' race/rally known as the Baja HaHa is scheduled to begin at 11 am on October 26th, outside San Diego Bay. Today (October 25th) I attended a "skippers' briefing" run by the organizers, and met some of the skippers of the 190 participating boats. They range from grizzled old sailors who look like they've logged thousands of sea miles to novices wondering what they have gotten themselves into.

The meeting was run by Richard Spindler, the publisher of a sailing magazine known as Latitude 38, who likes to call himself "The Poobah." The tone of the meeting was festive until the Poobah warned that heavy weather is expected by the second or third day of the rally, and discussed various points on the Baja coast where a sailboat might find shelter from high winds and big waves. That got everyone's attention and called to mind the famous liability waiver, prepared by the legal staff of Latitude 38, that all participants have signed. It asks participants to acknowledge repeatedly their understanding that: "the HaHa is a high risk activity open only to those gladly willing to risk injury and death in the pursuit of adventure." This language seemed like a bit of a joke when we signed the waiver--the only injury sustained in the previous 15 HaHa's that was mentioned in the HaHa materials was suffered by a drunken cruiser who fell off a barstool in Cabo. But talk of winds in excess of 30 knots and waves of 15 feet and higher has us wondering about the risks. No boat has ever been lost during the HaHa--I'd hate for this year to be an exception.

I know three of the HaHa skippers already from my celestial navigation class--Tom Madden of St. Mary II, Rob Johnston of Blue Swan (a pretty ketch he just bought recently) and Jim Schmid of Formula Won.

After the briefing there was a big costume party for all the cruisers, where the mood became festive again. Our pirate do-rags were outclassed by a variety of more elaborate costumes.