Puerto Vallarta to Manzanillo

With our trip back to Canada now over, we have returned to the routines of boating in Mexico. While at home we managed to fit in a little bit of skiing at Manning Park, a place Greg last skied at 40 years ago, along with a day up at Whistler. As for the weather we have been hearing so much about, during our short visit home the epic winter of 16/17 chose to visit us with only a mere love nibble: we didn't even have to break out a shovel!

Greg's brother Gord came down to crew with us and play in the sun for 2 weeks as we voyaged south from Puerto Vallarta to Manzanillo. Five games of golf, several rounds of beach bata-ball, kayak paddling and dinghy mangrove rides were enjoyed along the way. Gord being the sporting enthusiast that he is, every day included at least a twice shot of action activity. Given Alice's habit of sleeping in til 10 if we let her, poor Gord was confronted with some must-have-been-deadly-boring mornings waiting for the boat to awaken. Acclimatizing to the typical slow pace of life on a cruising sailboat in Mexico does take some adjusting...

After waking up the reefer systems and water maker in PV, a game of golf and some quick provisioning we headed out of Banderas Bay. We hoped for a lunch stop at the lovely las Animas beach but a heavy surf kiboshed that idea. So we headed once again for Yelapa and another yuckyish night on the hook. Remind us not to do that again, OK?

Next up was an early rising (enough of Yelapa) to Punta Impala for a layover night, "solo en el fondeadero". The quietude on the hook and a flat sea were most welcome after a longish day spent mostly motoring. The following morning having Gord on the boat allowed Alice to sleep in as we headed to Chamela anchorage and settled in for a couple days of beach relaxation.

Paraiso was next, a picturesque bay that is supposed to offer excellent protection. Not! The small opening to the west funneled and amplified incoming waves and what appeared on the chart to be a beautiful senorita proved to be nasty inside.

Our plan from there was to anchor at the lovely Careyes, a hillside community with beautifully coloured homes on the hillsides. That plan was scuttled by so large a field of mooring buoys that there was no room to swing at anchor. Being too lazy to set a stern hook, we moved onwards to Tenacatita, a place where cruisers at anchor have created a floating sort of itinerant village community.

30 or so boats regularly commingle there, some spending as much as two months at a time. The Friday ritual is a dinghy raft-up sun-downer party with sharesie appies and story telling. Fun, but golf withdrawal symptoms soon had us crossing the bay to anchor at little Tamarindo Bay, home of the fabulous Tamarindo course, rival to Pebble Beach in its magnificent setting. Reportedly a favourite of Tiger's during his youth, this gorgeous but challenging track completely undressed Greg, and even raised a slight sweat against his brother Gord's much superior game.

Barra de Navidad, just a little ways south, provided more opportunities for golf, not to mention the luxury of being tied up at a 5 star property with all the amenities available for the price of $US30 a day in moorage fees. The Grand Hotel has old-school Mediterranean architecture and also another very nice track to play on, thus leaving Alice happily free in time to enjoy the pool-side service without annoying boys around to bother her.

But after 4 days at Barra it was soon time for Gord to catch a plane home. A rare bit of wind allowed us to sail around the corner towards Manzanillo, witnessing the impressive wreck of the Los Llanitos with her broken back jammed into the rocks by Hurricane Patricia in October 2015.

Arriving in Santiago bay we dropped the hook once more and were treated to a snorkel of the 1959 wreck of the 300 foot cargo ship, San Luciano, broken up and rusting with her top-most parts slightly awash in 30 feet of water. 

All good things come to an end, including brotherly communions. Gord has now flown home and still we swing nearby the wreck of the San Luciano, plotting our next steps. The city of Guadalajara beckons us inland and unless a great storm arises in the night to also wreck the velero pequeño Anduril, to there we will soon go.

Back home and skiing in January.

Gord joins us for 2 weeks on the boat.

Colourful homes at Cayeres.

Chamela Beach.

Kayaking.

Bata Ball.

Golf.

Dingy excursions.

Tenacatita Bay

Dingy raftup at Tenacatita Bay.

The Grand Hotel at Barra de Navidad

The French Baker delivers to the anchorage and marina at Barra.   Yum!

The Grand Hotel - Barra.

Hotel Las Brisas - Memories of a Christmas trip to Melaque when the kids were young.

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The wreck of the Los Llanitos.

 Manzanillo.

Full Moon and margaritas at Santiago Bay.

Beach Day at Santiago Bay.

Youth, the City, and Cold to Come

Leaving San Blas we stopped for night anchorages in Chacala and Punta Mita before arriving in Puerto Vallarta to meet up with Simon, Gavin, and Gavin’s girlfriend Cass. For Greg, as he has stayed here at a nearby hotel on numerous golf trips, arriving in PV at Marina Vallarta felt almost like a homecoming. First task was to berth the boat for a month. After visiting for a week with the kids we will leave the boat and head back to Canada for 3 weeks.

The kidlets arrived on the afternoon of the 30th with fireworks in their eyes, people to see, and places to go.  Their U-Vic buddy, Armando, is a local PV’er and he and his girlfriend, Sophia, joined us for dinner and drinks before the gang departed for a headstart on New Years.  The following night Alice and Greg hung out with the young’uns until just before the gong and then, returning to the boat, we successfully nudged the clock past the midnight hour so as to be able to watch the fireworks from the cockpit. The younger party crowd were of course sufficiently energized to see both the fireworks and later from the beach, morning sunrise too. 

January 1st was a lay day, so to speak.  But on the morning of the second, with receding hangovers, the young crowd jumped on the boat for an overnighter.  When it comes to finding good places to be, local knowledge is a wonderful thing and Armando made a damn good guide.  First stop were the sea caves at Los Arcos.  With the boat standing off from the rocky shore, everyone got a chance to jump off and snorkel in the caves.  Next stop was Las Animas beach.  Here we dropped our hook and headed in to one of the coolest restaurants we have ever seen, with multi-level hillside tables, hipster outdoor décor and a crowd of people where it seems only the beautiful need apply for entry. 

Armando was welcomed by this crowd as some sort of returning soldier and several magical afternoon hours were spent over cervesas, agave  root Tequila (basically moonshine), plates of ceviche and other morsels tasty, sweet and hot.  

Returning with some reluctance to the boat we upped anchor and headed for Yelapa.  Alice has previously visited this boat access only town and her description of the anchorage made both of us wary of what we feared would be a place where the gods of rock and roll rule, wielding swords of pitch, roll and yaw.  Alice was not wrong.  But neither was Armando: taking in the situation with a glance, during dinner ashore he called up a buddy he knows who runs one of the local palapas on the beach and arranged for a room with beds for five.  Thus were queasy youthful stomachs spared the predicted indignity of a rocky night.  The two elderly stomachs, having been previously hardened to such circumstances, stayed on the boat and a satisfactory sleep was had by all.

For young travellers, the town of Sayulita exerts a powerful magnetism. After returning from the Yelapa boat trip the kids planned a couple of days there.  We joined said kidlets for what was meant for us to be a daytrip, but we were persuaded to also rent a room.  We realized afterwards this was our first shore sleep in 2-1/2 months. We played Bata ball on the beach, tried surfing and of course enjoyed the continuing pleasures of leisure-time meals, drinks and rays.

Such has been our life in Mexico, and now we fly home to Vancouver for a brief respite from the sun. Alice will carry on and visit family in Ontario and Greg will fit in a few days of tending to business.  We evidently have missed some fierce winter weather, but according to all reports the winds of winter will still be serving us some of what you all at home have already been feasting on.  Time to strap on some skis!

Best BBQ chicken in the whole world and served with potatoes and peppers.

Lunch spot on the way to Yelapa.

Me and the dark guy.

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.