Anduril Sailing Blog

The thoughts and emotions experienced during travel typically follow a predictable arc. At trip start, anticipation and adventure loom ahead. Mid trip there is an appreciation phase. And as the end of trip nears there is a sense of loss to come: “it can’t be over already!” This cycle occurs on timing calibrated to match any trip duration. On a trip lasting a long weekend the cycle is rather fast; on a nine month sailing adventure the cycle is slower, but here we are just the same, facing the end of our 2016-17 sailing travels from Vancouver to and around Mexico.

As to the middle trip phase, the Sea of Cortez provides ample and inspiring fodder for the senses. At times what we see strikes directly to the heart. There is a wild and rugged dry beauty to this place. Daily angles of sunlight expose the rocky mountain formations in a fabulous range of colours. In recent days the sea has been a placid, often glassy body that will suddenly reveal a teaming richness of life below.

Mabula Rays leap high into the air while still comically flapping their wings, then splash with a loud bellyslap back into the water. Flying fish spooked by the approaching boat will bolt out of the water in groups from one to a 100, flying away skimming just above the ocean waves. Skinny and absurdly long needlefish do the same but differently, wagging their tails at a furious rate to keep their long bodies angled aloft as they zoom 100m away, marking their path with a high speed surface tail-trail. As we pass near, turtles will raise their heads to have a quick look, then paddle lazily on their way.

Whales appear frequently, most times visible as a far away spout or by the sight of their vee-shaped tail flukes rising and dipping; other times they are suddenly nearby in groups of 2 or 3, their spouting breaths heard close and loud, alerting us to their awesome bulky presence. They curve up to the surface and spout, then dip downwards in a slow rolling motion that reveals the full length of their mighty barnacle covered spines. Then they finish their show by lifting their giant tails and slide downward, sounding.

Dolphins cavorting in a passing group will suddenly turn and charge to make a pass at your bow, then disappear, ignoring our heartfelt wishes for them to please stay and play. When snorkelling there are schools of fish darting colourfully around the rocks and paddling sea birds that follow them, diving to swim in chase, fast as bullets. Such birds will flock in large tight groups and appear in the distance fooling you at first into thinking they are a great floating mass of seaweed. The eye is made aware of the trick when the black mass suddenly disappears as the whole flock dives at once. About 30 seconds later they pop back to the surface, a group of three or four hundred birds all packed together, wing by beak.

Over the course of months of being on the water there are too many moments of such natural beauty for them to all be mentioned. Some moments are exciting, such as a huge whale breaching full out of water, but mostly there are moments of subtle beauty such as a turkey buzzard flying overhead on a shore breeze, catching a lift with its wide spread wings and its trailing and tip feathers moving in an exquisite show of aerial control. What a contrast there is against a buzzard’s beautiful flying skills when on the ground we watch them poke and tear at rotting beach-side carrion with their ugly red leathery heads.

And now the last days of this cruising season are here. The scope of time remaining is reduced to an Easter weekend cruise whereupon our return to Puerto Escondido we will labour for about three days to prepare the boat for summer layup and for the potential of hurricane weather. Sails will be stowed and various boat parts wrapped and taped. All manner of systems will be flushed with fresh water and holes above and below the waterline will be plugged or screened to keep out bugs. The boat will be lifted out of water and for the next six months will stand on the hard.

With boat chores done we will catch a plane home to other waiting land-based chores. And this blog will fall silent for half a year. No more pictures for us or you.

Greg & Alice

Hundreds of Olive Ridley Sea Turtles spotted during our 32 hour crossing from Mazatlan to the Baja side.

Beautiful beach at Los Muertos

Isla Espiritu Santos

Sea of Cortez sunsets

Sierra de la Giganta

My Indiana Jones exploring the mangroves at Bahia Amortajada.

Cactus garden at Bahia Amortajada.

Exploring the abandoned salt operations at San Ysidro.

A collection of abandoned shoes. I wonder what the story is.

Herman gulls fiercely protecting their nests.

Abandoned mansion at Timbabiche.

Walking.

,,,,,,and walking.

Honeymoon Cove at Isla Danzante.

Bahia Salinas - another abandoned salt mining operation.

Short day trip to Mission San Francisco Javier.

Anduril prepped and in the yard at Puerto Escondido.

After our Guadalajara trip, the presence of friends has leavened the travails of our slow trek northward back to the Sea of Cortez.

In Barra de Navidad our friends from Vancouver, Ron and Shirley, booked a room for two nights at the Grand Hotel, allowing us to party and partake of fine foods and pool-side service in swanky environs. Alice and Shirley enjoyed catch up gossip and Greg & Ron a little of the local herb. A few days later we dropped the hook in La Manzanilla and visited them again on the beach and at their equally swanky rental house.

Also at Barra we again crossed paths with the always fun to be around Ed & Linda, of One Fine Day. Watching a new boat pull into the marina, we were a little surprised to see Peter and Eileen from Appleseeds, flying a familiar RVYC burgee. It was nice talking over a beer and making connections to all our common friends at the home club.

In PV, we rendezvoused with our Calgary/Canmore pals Al & Kate, who joined us for a week on the boat travelling north to Mazatlán. The morning after their arrival in PV we sailed out to weather in pleasant “rail down” conditions, heading out to the Las Marietas islands located at the Northeastern point of Banderas Bay. Snorkeling there turned out to be a zero visibility experience and we overnighted at nearby Punta Mita. There, walking on the beach, we suddenly noticed our dear friend Leanne from Seattle who was dining on a beach-front restaurant (what are the chances?).

Arriving the next day at Chacala, swinging at anchor, happened to be Mo and Nick on Iolanthe. We had first ran into these two in December at Isla Isabel and have since repeatedly run into each other here and there, joining in various restaurant excursions and hoisting together a fair number of drinks (measured as sailors sometimes do). Mo, having recently parked her boat in Barra for the summer season, had now joined Nick on his boat with their pal Jeanette and they were now heading in the same direction as us.

The close environs of a small boat being what they are, we were darned pleased to find Al & Kate to be not only tolerant of boatside funkiness, but to also be adventuring souls with a simpatico disposition to ours. We ventured with them next to Matanchen Bay where Al & Kate panga’d with the crocs, and then onwards to Isla Isabel for a visit with the birds.

On our first visit to this island in December we formed the opinion that Isla Isabel is one of the earth’s grandest creations. Our second visit reinforced this impression. In December, future baby birds were mere proverbial gleams in each mating bird’s eyes. But by March they were a mix of eggs and fuzzy hatchlings. Walking among the birds on Isla Isabel (mostly frigates and brown and blue-footed boobies) it is wonderful to witness their naïve fearlessness of deadly humans. Taking care to avoid disturbing the nests as we walked the island trails we became naturalists impromptu, observing this awesomely cruel but nevertheless fecund display of birds in the wild.

The relationship between the frigates and the boobies is almost bizarre. Without apparent rancour they live together on the island and nest in the closest proximity. But boobies are the better fishers and when a booby makes a catch, the frigates pounce: swirling in an evil display of aerial dogfighting, 3 to 4 frigates dive and peck mercilessly at the fleeing booby. If the frigates are successful in their harassment the booby will regurgitate its catch into the water, to be immediately seized by one of the lucky frigates. On shore sitting under a tree we watched incredulously as a baby frigate stuck its long beak deep, deep down the throat of its parent, making said parent then puke up a fish into its darling child’s throat. We could not help but think of these goods as stolen property and of another hungry (and soon possibly dead) baby booby.

On board the boats, nearby humans were also behaving in the strange way of their own animal kind, willingly sharing amongst themselves fermented beverages and tasty morsels of food. Being all of a common liberal tribe, no cudgels, axes, bullets or bombs were required to make the peace.

Heading away to Mazatlán, Al ‘n Kate got to experience the pleasures of night watches, fighting the nodding forces of sleepiness as we motored forth on a boring flat sea. On arrival we next spent a highly pleasant week hanging about in the company of Al ‘n Kate and also Al’s sister Sharon and her husband Rod.

But as the earth curves along its slow passage around the sun, each day shows the fiery ball higher in the sky. Boaters in Mexico at this time of year begin planning to head home for summer. Young Mo had to head back to California to work and we joined her and Nick and Jeanette for a little send-off dinner.

Alice ‘n Greg then made their passage from Mazatlan across the sea to the Baja side. On the way across there was a sparkling, moonless sky and hundreds of turtles, whales, dolphins, flying fish and birds. And also huge hunting predator boats called purse seiners, armed with a helicopter flying overhead to spot the schooling fish and to direct rushing red speedboats as they corral said fish into a great round net of mass death.

Ocean passages, with the vastness of space glowing in the night sky above, always bring a sense of smallness to observing humans. On this passage we saw for the first time in our lives the “green flash” at sunset. This made us happy, because it is a rare event that we have unsuccessfully looked for during hundreds of previous sunsets.

We are now arrived on the Baja side of the sea in the lovely anchorage of Ensenada del Muertos. On gentle waves we rock slightly, with a cool northerly evening breeze blowing down our hatches. The stars above shine. At least for now, our hearts continue to beat. In the rough and tumble we are not yet the eaten…