Anduril Sailing Blog: February 2022

In the Golfo de California, winter winds prevail out of the north. The Golfo is also known as the “Sea of Cortez”, but given that Cortez is considered by many Mexicans to have been a despot of major historical proportions, the proper name for the area continues to be a matter of dispute. For English speakers, John Steinbeck’s “Log from the Sea of Cortez” made the Cortez name stick and in the bargain made the region famous for armchair travelers all over the world. But Mexican charts mostly refer to it as the Golfo de California.

Whatever the name, if you sail around here there are January northerly winds that need to be navigated. If they are blowing briskly, 600 miles of uninterrupted fetch causes the waves to build up and make a northbound sailor’s life cold and miserable. Wind creates steep wave-fronts with short periods that bang the hell out of a boat. Making safe and comfortable northerly passage comes down to waiting until there is a light wind forecast and hoping that the predictive weather model is accurate.

We picked just such a weather window as we were leaving Mazatlan and for the first 12-hours we banged unpleasantly into a choppy sea and wondered if we had misread the forecast. During the following 24-hours the seas flattened to comfortable. We arrived just before nightfall at Topolobampo with time to spare for navigating the entrance channel. A freighter lying at anchor had other plans: they upped their great big hook just as we approached. We radioed them with a futile request to steam in ahead of them while they waited for their pilot to arrive but were promptly overruled. So it was pitch black and moonless when we nervously dropped our hook in the spot where the chart plotter said it was safe.

Here in Mexico, trusting chart accuracy can be a bit dicey and anchoring in the darkness felt a little bit like placing our faith in the hand of God. Being neither believers nor prone to fox-hole conversion, the evening sleep at anchor was slightly worrying.

The first glimmers of morning light revealed a muddy lowland that was exactly where the chart said it would be. Drinking coffee, we considered the weather report. As tourists we would have very much liked to head into the town of Los Mochis for a few days. But as sailors we feared the weather window for crossing the Golfo would soon close. So we reluctantly up-hooked and headed out for another night at sea. Calm winds prevailed almost the whole way across the Golfo, but a 25 knot northerly piped up to welcome our arrival.

We arrived at Puerto Escondido Baja a week before our son Adrian and his friend Gabor were to join us. 2-1/2 years of Covid forced separation from Adrian weighed on us with heavy parental importance. So we were damned if we were going to let weather get in the way of our reunion!

The coast of the Golfo south of Loreto is a rocky, remote and beautiful place. We picked this area for our reunion cruise because of its raw loveliness and also because northerly winds, however strong, are rarely not navigable so long as the boat is southbound headed.

Pictures tell the story better than words. Nine pretty anchorages later (with a little lively weather along the way to keep the boys on their toes) we arrived in La Paz.

There are lots of whales to be seen in Pacific Mexico, but sadly, getting good pictures of whales is really hard. Maybe we need to buy one of those annoying drones. Luckily our track crossed paths with a pair of blue whales on our journey, which was a wildlife highlight of the cruise. They are the biggest animals on the planet and we always wanted to catch a sighting. Whales are gentle and wonderful creatures that make you feel glad to be alive and out at sea.

It starts to get cold fast heading north out of Mazatlan into the Sea of Cortez in January.

After 3 gorgeous sunsets and a brief overnight stop at Topolobambo, we reach the Baja near Loreto.

Arriving in a brisk wind.......

.......with the early morning fog over the Sierra de la Giganta range.

We settle into the quiet anchorage at Honeymoon Cove on Isla Danzante.

The kayaks are inflated and launched after about the 20th seam repair by Greg over the past 6 years.

Suffering from acute internet withdrawal, we head up the hill to get a blip of coverage. We are disappointed to discover that Covid still rules the world.