Waiting for YachtPath

A big issues for sailors who head south to Mexico is how to get back. One option is to sail back, but that requires a long, difficult "bash" up the outside coast of Baja, into the teeth of the prevailing winds. These northwest winds are often strongest in May and June, the months when many sailor choose to come north to avoid the hurricane season (which runs from the end of June to October). Another option is to have the boat transported back, either by truck or freighter.

After investigating this option, we decided to enter a contract with a company called YachtPath, that specializes in putting boats on freighters for the trip north. When we found that the cost of having Sabbatical transported from La Paz to Victoria, British Columbia was only a little more than having her shipped to Ensendada, we decided to head to Canada for the summer.

The major problem we had with YachtPath was continual delays in the shipping schedule, which created significant logistical problems for us. According to the company's initial schedule, the boat would be loaded in La Paz on May 27th and unloaded in Victoria on June 7. This was perfect timing for me, as I needed to attend a meeting of a statewide task force in Los Angeles on June 3, and UCI graduation (for five doctoral students on whose committees I serve) on June 5. So the schedule would allow me to deliver the boat to the freighter, fly to LA to take care of business, and then continue on to Victoria to pick up the boat. Had YachtPath kept to schedule, it would have been perfect. Unfortunately, the schedule slipped, then slipped again, and again. The pick up date was put back to June 3, then June 4, then June 7, then June 14, then June 15, then June 16. It was June 17 when the boat finally loaded. It was delivered to Victoria on June 28.

To deal with the delays, I hired Dennis and Susan Ross of Ross Marine Services in La Paz to look after the boat and deliver it to the freighter. They were extremely professional, kept us fully informed, and proved invaluable. Claudia and I flew to LA on June 2nd, leaving our boat in the Ross's capable hands.

We took a Horizon Air flight from La Paz to LAX. The flightpath went up the spine of Baja, providing magnificent aerial views of some of our favorite anchorages. It was a nice review of our time in the Sea of Cortez.

Here is a shot of Bahia Amortajada (where we were attacked by jejenes)--it is the bay in the island on the left. The island on the right is Isla San Francisco, where we anchored in the famous "hook" after escaping the jejenes.

Here is a shot of Isla Carmen, east of Loreto, where we anchored in Balandro Cove, which can be seen on the left side of the island, and hiked to Bahia Salinas, on the right side--getting lost in the process.

Here is Isla Coronados, where we climbed to the top of the extinct volcano.

And here is Caleta San Juanico, our farthest stop north in the Sea of Cortez.


While in Southern California, I was able to attend an important meeting of the California Crime Laboratory Review Task Force, on which I serve. I also met with all of my graduate students and attended the UCI graduation ceremonies.

In light of the delays, Claudia and I decided to drive to Victoria rather than flying. Our son Elliot came along. We had a leisurely trip up the coast, visiting our son Graham in Santa Cruz, my sister Janet and husband Paul (who were crew members during the Baja HaHa) in Danville, and some of my favorite cousins in Ashland Oregon. We also got together with our daughter Jessica in Seattle. Then we drove to Kelowna, BC, where we were able to stay a few days with our friend Barry, who had sailed with us in Banderas Bay in January. Here is Claudia, sitting on Barry's deck, which overlooks Lake Okanagan.


When it was finally time to pick up the boat, we drove to Vancouver, then took a ferry to Victoria. Here are Claudia and Elliot on the ferry.

And here is the freighter, Beluga Fantasy, on which Sabbatical arrived, along with a number of other boats.


Sabbatical arrived intact, with no damage other than some minor chafing on the toerail from the straps used to hold her down. After Sabbatical unloaded, we climbed aboard, started the engine, and we motored into Victoria's Inner Harbor, dodging float planes on the way.


We stayed a couple of nights on docks right in front of the historic Empress Hotel in Victoria's Inner Harbor--a lively spot where we were entertained by buscars and street performers.


From Victoria, we headed north, beginning the Canadian portion of our sabbatical voyage.

Kayaking at Agua Verde; Lobster at Los Gatos; Jejenes at Amortajada

On May 26, we left Puerto Escondido in the afternoon and rode the falling tide south toward Bahia Agua Verde. Along the way we encountered a group of at least 20 dolphins, spread out in a line perpendicular to our course, heading toward us. They appeared to be on the hunt, allowing the tidal flow to sweep prey toward them. Having read that tuna sometimes hunt in this way with dolphins, I quickly tossed a Rapala lure in the water and within a minute had hooked this big skipjack, which provided tuna steaks for several lunches and dinners.
The next day at Aqua Verde, we kayaked into the beach and walked past some rather ominous looking buzzards to visit the small fishing village. It has one restaurant, two tiendas, and about 20 small houses--a remote and sleepy place. We bought a few supplies and chatted with the locals for a bit, before returning to the boat and continuing south to Bahia Los Gatos, where we anchored for the night.


Los Gatos is a beautiful anchorage. There appeared to be no one there, but the next morning we met Manuel, a local fisherman who is well known among cruisers as a source for lobster. Manuel was friendly and fun. He spoke very slowly and clearly, so that we could understand his Spanish, and asked many question about our boat and our travels. Eventually he asked us if we would like him to get some lobster for us. We told him that we needed to leave within one hour because we had a long trip to our next anchorage and we wanted to arrive before dark. It was then 11 am and we told him repeatedly that we would need to leave in one hour. He said there was no problem, and took off in his panga.
When Manuel had not returned after an hour and a half, we reluctantly weighed anchor and headed South. We wanted to make it to Bahia Amortajada before dark, so we needed to go. We were about an hour South of Los Gatos, making about five knots on a broad reach, when we looked behind us and saw a panga chasing us. It was Manuel, with the lobsters. We stopped until he caught up, feeling bit guilty for having left, but Manuel was smiling as he sold us his catch.
Late that afternoon we made it to Bahia Amortajada, a bay on Isla San Jose near a large lagoon and estuary. This bay is notorious for biting flies, but we thought we could rely on our good screens to keep them out. This was a serious mistake.

Just after sunset, as we were enjoying a lobster dinner inside the boat, Claudia and I both started feeling itchy. We could see no flies at first, but eventually began to detect tiny black spots, that looked like ground black pepper, on our skin. When we slapped at the specks, we noticed blood. We were under attack from the notorious Mexican jejenes, also known as "no seeums"--tiny blood sucking insects. They were so small that they came right through our screens. We put on long sleeved shirts and pants to try to keep them off, but it was no good. They crawled right under the clothing and more seemed to be arriving all the time. We began madly swatting them against the walls and ceiling of the cabin, where they left tiny smears of blood that they had sucked from us, but made no progress--more seemed to be entering the boat every minute. Finally, in desperation, we decided we had to leave. As quickly as possible, we started the engine, raised the anchor, and headed out of the bay, hoping to get away from them. But this required going outside, which at first made matters worse. Our screens seemed to have admitted only the tiniest jejenes. When we went outside we were attacked by their big brothers and sisters. The insect flew into our eyes, ears, nostrils and mouths, on the attack, biting everywhere. Eventually, after we were a mile or two off shore, the breeze cleared them away, but we were covered in bites. The red, itchy welts lasted for days.

Putting to sea after dark, in those reef strewn waters was a little frightening. As noted earlier, our chartplotter has not been accurate in this area and there are often differences between the charts and guidebooks over the position of reefs and shoals. Luckily, the moon rose, giving us a little light and helping us see the position of some of the more dangerous obstacles. I followed a weaving course, trying to steer only into areas where the charts and guidebooks agreed that I would find deep water, and keeping an eye on the depth gauge at all times. Eventually we worked out was through the reefs and down to Isla San Francisco, where we anchored inside the famous hook. As we were dropping anchor, we were hit by a powerful corumuel wind, of about 20 knots, which blew all night, sweeping away the last of the jejenes.

The next day we continued south--anchoring once again at Caleta Partida. Then it was on to La Paz, where we checked into Marina Palmira to wait for YachtPath.