Salida mas del Norte (apologies to Spanish speakers)

At this time of year in the Sea of Cortez, so we are told and so we read, it is time to expect the change of seasons to colder air and the onset of northerly winds.  Being as we are heading north, this means life can suck for a sailing boat that needs to bash into headwinds and waves.

As we hoist anchor, ahead of us are our new friends Ed and Linda Harms. Mitochondrial DNA analysis may one day reveal a common ancestral heritage to Greg and Ed, but for now they are adopted as newfound cousins, and great fun to be around too.   Time to catch up to their boat with a beat to windward.

Morning was lumpy and winds were brisk, but as we closed the coast the seas flattened.  Greg tends to love sporty sailing conditions and Alice not so much, so this improvement in sea condition (in case any of you care) trended marginally towards our future marital success.  Poking our nose in the famed bay of Isla San Francisco as a possible anchorage, we saw only white caps, so onwards another 10 miles we went to San Evarista, where our friends were keeping the anchorage there warm for our arrival. It was a lengthy but nice sail: wine and appies were then enjoyed, followed by the night sounds of wind in rigging. Dreams again.  And the following night too.  There is no leaving to the North when the winds blow hard!  We enjoyed the charming palapa bar on the beach, Alice created our seashell memento leave-behind and we waited for calmer weather.

The 3^rd day brought early light airs and a 5am departure for the trip to Agua Verde. A calm motor sail ensued with both of us getting an off watch along the way to soothe the early rising.  Agua Verde is a lovely spot and we snorkelled and  enjoyed a walk along the winding hillside road separating the coves to the small townsite.  We spent a few pesos in each of the two village tiendas and then enjoyed “only customer” privileges in the smallest beach palapa of Alice’s and my so far limited cruising experience.

With more northerly winds in the forecast, we chose to beat (pardon the pun) the stronger winds to come and head for Puerto Escondido. Another excellent sail to weather, all in one tack.  Winds gusting to nearly 30 we pinched and feathered a single reefed main and shortened jib to stay just windward of some rocks and then were able to crack off and fly on a close reach to the entrance of Puerto Escondido. A real fun sail which we both enjoyed. Flat water all the way!

We settled in for 3 days here with winds blowing in from the north and have awakened to settled weather, so we are now off to range further to the north and see what we might see.

Greg n Alice

Fish #3 - a tuna!

One Fine Day at San Evarista

Ingredients for tasty potent margaritas.

At San Evarista.

Agua Verde

The new fish monger

More fish tacos

La Paz to Islas del Norte

After realizing that she was not in Kansas anymore, my recollection is that Dorothy said “ there is no place like home” and ended up back in a comfy bed.  That movie brought home to my four year old mind the understanding that people’s imaginations (and their dreams) could be really, really weird.  For that matter, people in general could be really, really weird .  But this understanding actually brought strange comfort against the odd and distressing thoughts that affected my childhood mind, with the realization that dreams could be really cool.

A really good dream-state is actually inspired by unsettling events.  I have this theory that the truly baad shit is not helpful to a good dream state. For example experiencing loved ones suffer terrible injuries or dying, or imminent bankruptcy or divorce, these things do not lead to a good dream state because they are simply too fucked up and distressing.  Once you are at “ fight or flee” nothing good comes out of the examination of the subconscious mind.  But lessor types of stressor events can be absolutely fabulous dream inducers.  So an important observation out of this trip is that the sweet spot for a good dream state is a bad anchorage.  And even better is an anchorage that starts out as sunny idyllic bliss and that wakes you up in the middle of the night out of deep REM. 

For you land crabs, a pale facsimile of the experience can be achieved by chugging a few beers and falling to bed without bathroom.  You will wake in the night with the conflicting desire to continue sleeping and the increasingly urgent and inevitable need to get up and pee.  Just before the pee there are often great dreams.  For young men there is also something called a “woody”.  In either case, coming out of the dream state there is a need for immediate action.

Leaving La Paz after a week of lazy reading, writing and drinkmanship, we first stopped for lunch and snorkelling at Ballandra Cove, the site of the famous rock-formation mushroom.  Onwards in our self-indulgence we proceeded to Caleta el Candeleros on Isla Espiritu Santo.  This a truly beautiful bay of outcropping rocks bridled by gorgeous white sand beaches.  At land on all sides there are steep and crumbling rock falls, grown over with tall cacti, and natural caves high above, surely inhabited in ancient times by native peoples. Proof given by  the tell-tale sign of a large sea-shell midden near the north beach.   A short hike from the beach takes you past an abandoned water well and then to a rock amphitheatre where ancient mystics no doubt imbibed peyote and absorbed all the important effervescences of the human condition.   

Concluding our lovely day, in calm dead air and with boat fully protected from north, east and south, we fell to an early and well-deserved bed.  But at sea the wind blows from all ways, and if you assume west is out of the question, from there will it blow - never in the day of course; adverse wind comes always in the dark of night.  Also in the category of adverse to a boat swinging at anchor is a large mega-yacht that spoils lonely bayside bliss by arriving late in the afternoon and anchoring closely.

That night while we were channelling the ancient mystics with wild and psychedelic dreams, the dark was interrupted by the foreboding sound of wind moaning in the rigging, combined with excessive wave bouncing in our forepeak sleeping quarters. Crap. Wake up, get up and look around.  Bloody hell, the monster yacht is dragging down on us, lights ablaze. Are they awake? Quick Alice, the air horn!  Five short blasts means collision imminent, so five they get.  A small army of white-clad crew scurried to action and we watched as monster yacht yanked hook and bugged out of the anchorage.  I have to tell you that giving that big-ass boat five horns felt almost as good as one of those fabled morning woodies.  

The next day after snorkelling among the rocks (and some disappointing intentionally sunken concrete sculptures) and seeking less boisterous anchorage in westerly winds, we relocated to nearby Caleta Partida. The night there was calm, stress was low and dreams not so vivid. This was a good thing as Peyote every night, after all, might be dangerous…

Greg

Loading up in La Paz.

Rock sculpture at Balandra.

Isla Espiritu Santo

An abandoned well.

Our boat on the right.

Cabo San Lucas to La Paz

It is often said that age brings wisdom and it has long been my opinion that such a belief defies all logic: my own aging brain, if it is a typical human example, each day onward shows a little more of the continuing abuses of time. While it is a sad state of affairs to have to admit it, I am quite certain that the old noggin is indeed an inferior instrument to the one I had the happy use of when young.

Be that as it may, it does seem that the attractions of Sodom and Gomorrah also decline with age, so perhaps there is a nugget of truth buried there somewhere. Both Alice and I were therefore delighted to take leave of the bustling pleasures offered by Cabo San Lucas and make track for the relative quietude of nearby San Jose del Cabo, just the two of us now.

Alice braved the lofty heights of the mast to retrieve a halyard (lost to the sky by way of a shook loose shackle pin) and we also spent a hot 3 hours on a grassy patch of land first unspooling and then repairing a routine tear in our A1.5 kite. The fancy and expensive top-down kite furling system we invested in for this trip continues to be under evaluation as to whether it actually amounts to "help or hinder".

A trip to the arts and craft town was impeded by a long walk that (by way of poor advice from Mr. Google) required the mid-way scaling of a nastily top-barbed fence. Husband and wife escaped with intact genitalia, both. Beers and pizza were enjoyed, with a taxi ride home!

On our final afternoon we joined for drinks our new-found-had-no-prior-idea-they-even-existed Ed and Linda Harms (must be Russian cousins) of the excellent yacht "One Fine Day". Then I forgot my hat and sunglasses at the bar. Grrr...

We departed early in the AM for Los Frailes, motoring all day and enjoying a welcome sundowner invitation (offered to all 15 boats at anchor) from the expansive and luxurious catamaran "Muskoka".

The following morning we rose early and motor sailed 50 miles to Bahia de los Muertos, where we were treated to an unexpectedly terrific afternoon meal at the hut on the beach.

But no rest for the wicked, the following morning, with another early anchor hoist, we headed into brisk and lively headwinds on our march to La Paz. As we eventually rounded the northerly point it was blowing 25 and we were happy to see that wind now on the aft quarter. Fat chance for a sheltered anchorage in any nearby bay, we begged by radio for a slip (at first denied) at the toney Costa Baja resort.

Two pleasant days were spent poolside, with a game of golf included for skipper. Alas, our place in life is not really with the rich and famous, so in due course we have moved. Along with all the other various and sundry normal-folk we now swing at anchor in the La Paz channel. We ride gloriously to town in our modest dinghy. And for the next week we will enjoy the pleasures of beers, tacos, burritos and maybe a tequila or two. No doubt all of our readers will extend their heartfelt sympathies.

Leaving Cabo......just the 2 of us now.

A successful project.

Many failed and abandoned projects.

My first time up the mast.

Another boat from Vancouver BC at San Jose del Cabo.

Beautiful Los Frailes.

Great food at the Muerto Cove beach restaurant.

Fish # 2.

La Paz.....catching up on the news.

Anchored in La Paz.

Greg rigged up a bridle so we can easily hoist the dingy at night.

Leg 3 Ha-Ha: Bahia Santa Maria to Cabo San Lucas

For a sailor, leg 3 had little to speak for itself. Almost no wind and any plan to sail the course instead of motor would be likely to add many hours to the trip.  Mr. Skipper knew better than that.  As a child he had dutifully read in  his comic books the histories of human folly; knowing exactly what excessive en-route passage time might now do to his new-found stature among the crew as a stone-jawed leader of ships, the skipper acted.   The tropical Mecca of Cabo awaited and without further hesitation we motored straight there.  

We had not heretofore been much diligent in the streaming of fishing tackle, but out went the gear, with the crew hoping that the squid-like contraptions meant for northern Californian coastal tuna had something like the right colours for fish catching in Baja Mexico.  A long day and night produced nothing.  But closing the Cape in the first of the morning light we caught a Mahi Mahi.  He was brought alongside, promptly dispatched with a shot of tequila in the gills, and made into two nice fillets.

Next up was the biggest sailfish I have ever hooked.  Note that skipper has never before hooked a sailfish.  But he was truly a monster and he peeled out a prodigious amount of line, jumping and splashing far behind the boat.  Alas, the skill of the skipper was insufficient to keep the monster sailfish on the line.  In a feat of true fish magicianship, the magnificently adorned beast twisted and turned and jumped and somehow removed the hook completely from the line swivel so as to free himself.  Skipper is confused by how this remarkable act of contortion could have been achieved by the fish but does suspect it might have something to do with holder of rod not following the admonition “keep your line tight”.

Before we knew it we were around the corner of the cape and in view of the iconic rocks of Cabo San Lucas.  The voyage of the Ha Ha was at an end, captioned upon arrival by the prompt introduction of a nifty little stomach bug into the skipper’s bowels.  After all, every great feat of seamanship deserves its reward!

A shout out to the wonderful 2016 Ha Ha crew aboard Anduril:  Adrian and Gabor, it really was a lot of fun.  Join us again somewhere down the track.

.........Greg

Start of Leg 3.

The rocks of Cabo San Lucas

Fresh fruit breakfast in Cabo San Lucas.