Missing Cranberries

Departing the craggy, wild wonders of “l’isle de avion”, in flat and windless seas, we made for San Blas.  It would have been nice to linger for another day there.  But needing to meet Simon and Gavin in PV on the 30^th meant we had some miles to cover, so excessive dillying and dallying would not compute with our planned rendezvous.

San Blas harbour is an estuary with a bar entrance and we were dubious about depths in there but thought we would check it out anyway. The bar proved to have 3-4 feet under our keel, but as we approached the marina we backed off when we saw maybe 3 inches of keel clearance. Then we tried to find a spot in the estuary with a little more depth to anchor in.  But nudging forward slowly, slowly we slithered into mud. Enough of that! Backing out again we spun the boat and got the hell outa there and headed for nearby Matanchen Bay, where we anchored as the sole bayside visitors.

Christmas eve was a quiet affair.  The beach at Matanchen is lined with drive-in Palapas but as we dinked in towards the shore all but one of the restaurants were closed or closing.  A lone waving proprietor encouraged us to his establishment and we were able have a quick dinner. We didn’t linger, as in addition to the gloom of a deserted party palace this area has a reputation for “Jejenes” which are tiny noseeums that have a vicious itchy bite and we feared that despite our precautions we were being secretly eaten.  Escaping to the boat we installed all available bug screens, poured wine and watched a couple episodes of Game of Thrones.

We expected Christmas day would be more of the same sort of gloom, but Mexican traditions can surprise.  It turns out that a favourite Mexican Christmas day excursion is to pack the family vehicle to the gills, drive to the beach, buy fresh-baked goods along the way and then park under thatch covered parkades (with attached palapas) for a day party. So our Christmas day afternoon consisted of first partaking of a dingy landing beer at one of the palapas, then a beach walk past the Mexican yuletide celebrants and down the road to the “Jungle Tour”.  The low-lying shore lands in these parts create mangrove swamps, and that means perfect wetland habitat.

The jungle tour is by panga boat along a meandering tidal stream: we passed through long tunnels of mangrove trees that arch above overhead, then the stream breaks out into areas of estuarial grass,  fernland and finally hillside forest.  Living all about this wetland jungle are a large variety of birds, fish, plants and of course, crocodiles.  These range in size from teensy weensy salamander size to 7 meter monsters, though we saw none larger than about 5m.  Nevertheless, these were big and creepy and toothy enough to satisfy all of our croc-viewing needs.

The panga boat ride stops midway at what they call a crocodile sanctuary, where they carry out some conservation croc breeding. But unfortunately the sanctuary otherwise has all the characteristics of an old-school zoo, with depressing little wire and concrete cages for the crocs and similar cages for a variety of other captive birds, leopards, lynx, etc.  It is always interesting for people to be able to see native animals, but surely it is not so fine for those caged. Continuing onwards from this dismal zoo, we stopped at a “tourist-Mex” style jungle restaurant and were served a tasty meal of fried fish. 

All in all it was a fun Christmas day spent among the locals. Still, it must be mentioned that however exotic and wonderful the location, the passing of a tradition day like Christmas away from home does produce some longing for the communion of family.  That night as we laid ourselves down we thought enviously of those back home with their family around the table and with turkey and cranberries on their plates!  At that moment you at home were the lucky ones…

Christmas at Matanchen Bay.

The ice cream van!

A big one!

Sun sight for fun (we have GPS)!

Boxing Day at Chacala

Crocodile tour up the river at Matanchen.

Quest for the Blue-footed Booby

Ask almost any kid what they would like to be when they grow up and at some period in-between fire-fighter/truck-driver and (if parents are giving advice and the kid is listening) doctor/lawyer that kid will have watched a National Geographic episode and the answer will be “a naturalist.”  I mean who wouldn’t want to be Jane Goodall or Charles Darwin?

The trouble for most of us when it comes to biology is that we soon realize the massive number of species and that their classifications and taxonomy requires bloody hard work and a prodigious capacity for memorization.  “Boring!” say most of us and the dream of being Jacques Cousteau is dead.  But like all of life path’s not taken, the interest can sometimes be briefly rekindled by chance exposure.

And so it was that during our trek between the civilizations of Mazatlan and Puerto Vallarta, we discovered that a mysterious lone and rugged tropical island existed in the middle of the ocean and that it was called Isla Isabel, and described as the “Galapagos of Mexico”.  With such a destination who doesn’t immediately imagine themselves with a central role in King Kong or Jurassic Park?  Any red-blooded person wants to immediately don khakis, plop a pith helmet on the old dome and go get themselves an elephant rifle to sling on the shoulder.  Or perhaps find wire rimmed glasses and a specimen box with coil binder to take notes of the behaviours of the new species that will thereafter be given your name.

The truth is there are no Pterodactyls on Isla Isabel.  But there is a vast legion of “Magnificent Frigate” birds and they look a little like Pterodactyls.  In these parts frigates are a very common far ranging sea bird and Isla Isabel is where a great many of them come to nest.  And on the east side of the island, following a foot-trail past the volcanic crater lake, one is told there are that rarest of creatures, the “Blue-footed Booby”.  Boobies too are long-range birds and I remember once near Hawaii on the Vic-Maui sailing race a less exotic yellow-footed booby deciding to try make a mid-ocean landing on my friend Paul Henderson’s head while he was driving.  His head at the time was a mass of fuzzy blond hair and the bird’s apparent nesting instinct gave us all a good laugh.

We left Mazatlan in the afternoon and as daylight broke in calm weather we anchored on the south end of the island.  Despite a big crashing ground swell originating from far to the north, we were able to land the dinghy without trouble at the fish camp beach and explore the now abandoned naturalist research station to observe the mating and tree-nesting frigate birds.  The males puff out their large red neck bladders, which must impress the hell out of their women. And we imagine that (if you can block out the pervasive smell of guano) the females smell nice for their men, or something… Like I said, the dream of being a naturalist is dead, so expect no scholarship here!

Moving along on our hike, our quest to the east shore of the island proved to be most charming when in the trail-side underbrush we encountered our first mating pair of blue-footed boobies.  The behaviour of the birds would be properly described by biologists as “cute as hell”.  They stomp their little blue feet, waggle their butts and crook their necks around to look at you, all the while making adorable little croaking noises that fail entirely to scare away visiting enemy humans.  And thus our quest was fulfilled.  For the sake of preserving cuteness on the planet we hope with all our hearts that real predators are never introduced to this island...

Looking out to sea from the booby beach are two massive and wonderfully craggy spires of rock known as “Las Monas” and swinging there were two other boats at anchor.  Not wanting to spend the night on the south anchorage with great noisy waves crashing on the rocks beside us, we relocated after our hike to this new spot and invited our fellow cruisers over for a sundowner.  They turned out to be boats cruising in company, two 30ish women, Mo and Chelsea, on Mo’s Cal 30 and Nick, about 40, single-handing his displacement cruiser.  Too many drinks were consumed over snacks-that-turned-into-dinner and we were charmed and impressed by skipper Mo’s adventure of making her boat able and ready for the sea on a shoe-string and then getting out and doing it. Thumbs up on meeting a better sailor, mechanic and all around handyperson than most of the men cruisers, living her dream and doing it young.

Galapagos of Mexico - Magnificent Frigatebirds

Fishing Camp

Abandoned Research Station

Iguanas

Female Frigate

Male Frigate

Showing its colours

Female Frigate

Adorable Blue-footed Boobies

  

Brown Booby

The Face

Sailing Vessels of Nick, Chelsea, and Mo

La Paz to Mazatlan

Expecting a few days of rest and relaxation in La Paz, the next day we had a look at the weather forecast for crossing the Sea of Cortez to the mainland side. A strong northerly was showing up on all the weather models and we realized that if we did not want to pinned to the Baja side we had better make a run for it and get ourselves out in front of the coming winds.

So a day and a half after arriving in La Paz it was off to the supermercado for provisions and then up with the anchor. With an afternoon departure we would be two nights and one day at sea, aiming for a morning arrival in Mazatlan.  Up until now Alice and I had not done an overnight trip on our own without extra crew on board, so this would in fact also be a rite of passage. Stakes were high as I could see in Alice's eyes that there might be a marriage on the line...

But in the end the weather gods decided that ours was a marriage still worth preserving.  The fishing was good on the way out with two Spanish mackerel brought in (we are starting to not feel like total fishing amateurs now). As night was coming on we had a beautiful fast beam reach for the first 8 hours, then about 24 of motoring, followed by more reaching conditions to finish with a 7am arrival just as the sun was rising in purple colors over the city skyline.

We celebrated the morning with  stiff margaritas and a renewal of our marriage vows. Well that last part is a lie, but it is true that the husband was pleased not to see any daggers in his spouse's eyes.

Then it was time for a long nap. Two hours on two hours off night watches take the stuffing out of a body.

Tied up to the dock at El Cid Marina we now have 4 days of luxurious poolside relaxation. Lucky folks we are indeed.

Caught 2 Spanish Mackerel underway.

Skyline of Mazatlan at sunrise.

Celebratory breakfast margarita at El Cid Marina.    We made it!

I love this place.

Sights of Old Mazatlan.

To the North and Back Again

Here in Mexico the cruising life is beginning to feel a lot like our youthful memories of endless summer.  Each day at anchor follows a lazy pattern, following the arc of the sun.  Morning breaks with dull light at 0630 and with coffee soon brewing.  At 0730 we try to listen on the shortwave radio to the crackling airwaves to learn what we can of the coming weather.  Then breakfast and we chat over what to do with the day.  If it is onward, there are preparatory boat chores:  dinghy/motor stowage and deciding with a look at the charts on where to go.  If it is to be a stay day, then there is a shore excursion to ponder, or some snorkelling.  The water everywhere is pleasantly warm and clear.

As we headed north of P. Escondido 10 days ago the evenings began to cool, but at noon-time it still always feels hot. Ashore, the terrain is dry, with fantastic formations of weather crumbled and sea-sculpted rock.  Tall rock spires rise from the sea and in this area their strangely bent and distorted silhouettes resemble candles, for which the locals have variously named them.  North of La Paz the coast is sparsely settled. Days pass with no cell coverage and we are reminded by this absence of how addicted we have all become to instant electronic connectivity.

The both north and south produced some terrific sunny sky day sailing and the wind directions have been generally kind to us, with both boat and seas mostly flat. Whether freshly arrived at destination, or returned from our shore excursion, to chip away at the late afternoon hours we read and sometimes nap. Then comes the quiet of dusk, and with darkness falling at 6pm we know sleep is not far away. Cruisers in the tropics often say that 9pm is a sailor’s midnight.  After dinner we amuse ourselves with a DVD or recorded show on the TV.  Lately our evenings conclude with the violent but strangely charming Tony Soprano and friends (we missed seeing that series when it ran). Anchorages have been beautiful with mostly good protection from waves, but it is often windy at night and not so perfect as to absolve us of all night-time watchfulness.  Life on a sailboat is still an adventure after all.

Puerto Escondido to Puerto Balandra – Isla Carmen:  Beautiful 16nm beam reach. One night at the quiet island anchorage with one sailboat and three kayaks.  In the morning 3 local fishermen in a panga came to look for something in the shallows and went over the side, swimming in their undies.

P. Balandra to Caleta San Juanico: Sail and motor 25nm with dolphins jumping.  No people live here but there is a cruiser’s tree shrine with memento leave-behinds.  A road brings some RVers to the NW beach and we chatted with them and also another Canadian.  We are seeing a disproportionate number of Canadian flags on the sterns of boats around here.

San Juanico to a Loreto lunch hook and P. Escondido: a downwind sail of 38nm. 10-12 knots and calm seas allowed us to drop anchor off the Loreto roadstead and take the dinghy to town for an excellent grilled fish at “La Palapa” restaurant and then see some sights of the Old Town near the Misión Nuestra Señora de Loreto.  Kids were being let out of school and there was a small traffic jam of cars with a whistling policeman directing traffic.  A safe anchorage in strong winds at P Escondido also provided phone service to make some calls to arrange for our summer haul out at and for our sons Simon and Gavin to join us for New Years in Puerto Vallarta.

P. Escondido to Agua Verde: downwind 24nm in 15-18 knots to protection, but 9 boats in a small anchorage means our outside spot is rolly-polly the first night before a second night repositioning improved things.  An incoming surf on the big town-side beach keeps all the yachtista dinghies away from the palapa bar, but we walk the long way road to visit the village tienda looking for goat cheese and beer.  An afternoon low tide allows us to short-cut past the rocky headland back to our anchorage beach.

Agua Verde to Puerto los Gatos:  An 18nm motor-sail in a light northwester in a yucky sea that was remembering a previous northeaster.  A bit better at the end as the breeze filled and then a tuna took the line as we entered the bay.  A beautiful spot with fantastic smooth rock formations, but anchorage was a bit rolly.  

P. los Gatos to San Evaristo: 29nm motor in flat seas and no wind.  A big fish took Greg’s lucky triple squid lure and broke the line.  L 

San Evaristo to Isla San Francisco: We missed this stop on the first passing due to a strong NW’er.  No problem this time.  A classic white sand beach with a spectacular shear drop ridge-line hiking trail above.  One slip and yer dead, so no clumsy footwork permitted. Gorgeous moonrise just before sunset.

Isla San Francisco to Ensenada Grande and Los Islotes: 23nm mostly motoring to a pleasant solitary anchorage.  In the morning we picked up the hook and moved to another small bay near the open ocean rock pile known as Los Islotes.  Jumping in the dinghy we ran out about a mile and tied up to a float and donned snorkelling gear so we could swim with the sea lions.  Moms and pups swim up to you and take a close look, then pirouette away.  Sea lions are terrifically acrobatic swimmers.  Up in Canada I resent how they like to steal salmon off my fishing line but swimming with them does give their stinky presence some much needed charm.

Los Islotes to La Paz: After our adventure with the sea lions we sailed downwind 29nm towards La Paz.  The A5 kite gave us a fast ride in 14-18knots.  And now we will spend about 3 days provisioning, doing some minor boat chores and maintenance and trying to have some city time fun after nearly 3 weeks cruising the sparsely settled north.