Nov 19, 2012, Monday, Pichilingue to La Paz
We take our time getting started in the morning, reluctant to leave this beautiful harbor. There is a tinge of melancholy because we are coming to the end of this phase of our adventure. I need to leave in a few days and Alan will get to work on all of those projects that did not get finished before we left; installing the water maker and painting the cabin being among the top priorities. I really don’t want to be here during all of that chaos and it will be good to get this ear thing taken care of. During the last weeks we have learned a lot. But it will be January when I get back, leaving only 2 months to get down to Puerto Vallarta, ready to head across the Pacific in March. We are tired of deadlines and rushing from place to place so we have come to a major decision. We have decided to spend another year exploring Mexico and take off for the South Pacific the following year. This means our journey will last longer, but there is no real reason to rush home anyway. And it gives lots of chances for people to come visit us in Mexico before we take off.
And now back to our current journey. We motor very carefully along the twisting channel into La Paz proper and drop anchor just off of the municipal pier in the midst of lots of familiar boats. Once we are settled and secure we take the dingy ashore and spend the evening wandering around La Paz. We find and ATM. We buy Alan a hat. We fail to find a grocery store but do buy some bread and tortillas and eggs. We learn that the mercado is open from 5 am to 3 pm. Eventually we settle at a sidewalk cafe and have a wonderful dinner, shrimp tacos and chiles rellenos this time.
Back at the boat, I make a start at packing. I am not bringing much home, just a few things that did not work out for the boat but that we don’t want to just toss. The wind is blowing and it is much cooler than it has been. I have put the quilt away but the blanket feels good tonight..
Wednesday, November 21, 2012
Nov 18, 2012 Sunday, Puerto Pichilingue, Bahia de la Paz
The rest of the night is just as beautiful. Typically, we arrive at the entrance to the bay in the dark and need to stall until dawn. So here we go, up and down beside Isla Spiritos Santos in the dark. There are lights but it is still very dark and we are pretty close to shore. I have it all figured out, exactly how far I need to go until I can turn around and arrive the channel entrance in the daylight. And then, just as I make the turn to head back for the last time, the wind changes from a gentle 7 knots to 16 knots and once again we are flying along. My watch is over and I turn the tiller over to Alan to deal with and crawl into bed. When I get up, the engine is on, the radar is on and we are carefully steering up the channel into the bay.
Once inside, we pick up a light wind and are able to turn the engine off again. We have no reservation for a slip in La Paz and we understand that everything is full so the plan is to drop anchor at one of the outlying coves and send a few emails to see if we can get anything. We want to be close to the center of town so I can get to the airport on Wednesday. We settle on a little place called Pichilingue and drop anchor in crystal clear water around noon. We have the place all to ourselves, except for a few fishermen. Turns out my shy quiet husband is a closet nudist. Off come the clothes at the first hint of warm weather. I had noticed that every time he dove into the ocean from the boat his swim trunks seemed to come off but I had put it down to the fact that he is losing weight. Now the truth is out, he does it on purpose. If there were no one around, he would not even bother to put a swimsuit on. As soon as we are anchored we both dive in. We have not had a shower since we left San Diego but somehow we don’t feel the need for one. I did take a washcloth full of soap into the water with me in Cabo, but other than that, a swim seems to do the trick.
It looks like a restaurant on the beach and there is not much left to eat on board and I have not caught any fish since the giant dorado on the way down, so we unfold the dingy and row ashore. Sure enough, a charming cabana restaurant with friendly staff and cold beer. I am dying for ceviche. The waitress says they don’t have any but the tostado de mixos de mariscos turns out to be almost the same thing. Alan has tacos de pulpos. Both are delicious and now we know we are in paradise. There are a couple of other families on the beach but it is surprisingly quiet for a Sunday afternoon.
Eventually we head back to the boat where Alan settles down to study the charts of La Paz harbor. It is a narrow channel with lots of shallow spots. I am realizing that we were spoiled by 3 years in San Pedro harbor with it’s lovely deep water. We never had to worry about following a channel to get in and out. Since we were surrounded by ocean going tankers, we knew the water was deep. While he is dong that I get on the radio to see if i can contact anyone. I get and answer and find out that the English speaking sailing community has a radio net at 8am where we can get answers to lots of our questions.
The rest of the night is just as beautiful. Typically, we arrive at the entrance to the bay in the dark and need to stall until dawn. So here we go, up and down beside Isla Spiritos Santos in the dark. There are lights but it is still very dark and we are pretty close to shore. I have it all figured out, exactly how far I need to go until I can turn around and arrive the channel entrance in the daylight. And then, just as I make the turn to head back for the last time, the wind changes from a gentle 7 knots to 16 knots and once again we are flying along. My watch is over and I turn the tiller over to Alan to deal with and crawl into bed. When I get up, the engine is on, the radar is on and we are carefully steering up the channel into the bay.
Once inside, we pick up a light wind and are able to turn the engine off again. We have no reservation for a slip in La Paz and we understand that everything is full so the plan is to drop anchor at one of the outlying coves and send a few emails to see if we can get anything. We want to be close to the center of town so I can get to the airport on Wednesday. We settle on a little place called Pichilingue and drop anchor in crystal clear water around noon. We have the place all to ourselves, except for a few fishermen. Turns out my shy quiet husband is a closet nudist. Off come the clothes at the first hint of warm weather. I had noticed that every time he dove into the ocean from the boat his swim trunks seemed to come off but I had put it down to the fact that he is losing weight. Now the truth is out, he does it on purpose. If there were no one around, he would not even bother to put a swimsuit on. As soon as we are anchored we both dive in. We have not had a shower since we left San Diego but somehow we don’t feel the need for one. I did take a washcloth full of soap into the water with me in Cabo, but other than that, a swim seems to do the trick.
It looks like a restaurant on the beach and there is not much left to eat on board and I have not caught any fish since the giant dorado on the way down, so we unfold the dingy and row ashore. Sure enough, a charming cabana restaurant with friendly staff and cold beer. I am dying for ceviche. The waitress says they don’t have any but the tostado de mixos de mariscos turns out to be almost the same thing. Alan has tacos de pulpos. Both are delicious and now we know we are in paradise. There are a couple of other families on the beach but it is surprisingly quiet for a Sunday afternoon.
Eventually we head back to the boat where Alan settles down to study the charts of La Paz harbor. It is a narrow channel with lots of shallow spots. I am realizing that we were spoiled by 3 years in San Pedro harbor with it’s lovely deep water. We never had to worry about following a channel to get in and out. Since we were surrounded by ocean going tankers, we knew the water was deep. While he is dong that I get on the radio to see if i can contact anyone. I get and answer and find out that the English speaking sailing community has a radio net at 8am where we can get answers to lots of our questions.
Nov 17, 2012, Saturday, Los Muertos to Pichilingue
And so on we trek. Despite the strong wind, we are only going 1-2 knots and it is almost impossible to hold a course. Finally Alan decides to turn on the engine to see if we can get back closer to shore where maybe either the wind will be less or the seas calmer, or both. He is starting to get that look he gets when he has not had enough to eat and needs sleep. We are definitely going to stop at Los Muertos for the day to rest. Eventually we get close enough to land that things do calm down. And then they calm to the point that there is now almost no wind and we take down the staysail, too, leaving just the mizzen. Finally I can heat some soup and get a quick nap. Alan finally decides that it is safe to leave me in charge while he gets a nap.
Now we have the problem of time to kill until it is light enough to anchor safely. And so I zigzag my way up the coast, offshore until I come out from behind the lea of the point and hit rough waves again and then inshore until I am too close and then back off shore again. Since the engine is running we have the radar on, which is nice since it is fairly shallow close to shore. The radar uses so much power to run that we usually do not turn it on unless we also have this engine on. This works out pretty well actually because we usually have the engine on when we are going in and out of a harbor or in some kind of tricky situation. There are an amazing number of lights along what we thought was a deserted coastline. Way off in the distance is a glow from Cabo San Lucas. The moon went down about 9pm and the stars are bright as usual. Back and forth I go until eventually I decide that this is a silly waste of gas. It is still four hours till dawn. If we are not going anywhere anyway, we might as well turn off the engine. We drift along until we can see the lights of the anchorage then heave to to wait for the dawn. The minute it is light we turn on the engine, motor in, drop anchor and fall into bed.
The day is spent sleeping, swimming and cleaning up the mess of stuff that crashed. Actually it is not as bad as it seemed last night. There is the usual pile of books and charts and pencils and glasses and small screws and washers that never got put away but everything that was in it’s proper place did just fine. It is lovely and calm here, and hot. We set up the wind scoop over the hatch and the cabin is instantly cooler.
Once we catch up on our sleep we get out the charts and cruising guides and study the next leg. This time we will be prepared for anything. First we realize that we will be going through a narrow channel between and island the the shore. Charlie’s Charts strongly suggests this be done at slack tide. Somehow we had missed that note earlier. Now we need to see if we have functioning tide app on the iPad. OK, low tide at 6:30 pm. We figure a couple of hours to raise anchor, get out of the harbor and around the point so a 3:30 cast off should work. It is going to be another all night sail, ending with another narrow passage into the harbor at La Paz. We would like to get there at dawn. It looks to be about 30 miles. At this point, we have absolutely no average speed to use for estimating, so we just pick 4 kts, randomly. That gives us around 10 hours straight sail and more with tacks. That should get us there in the morning.
After one more round of naps and swims and a big lunch, we set off. Everything is tied down tight. (By the way, the fenders cam through the wild night ride just fine). Food for the night is ready. Thermos is full of hot water. Alan has a plan for exactly what to do with the sails, depending on how much wind we get. At this point is seems useless to try to get a forecast, since they never seem to have any relation to the actual conditions. Much like sailing in the Santa Barbara Channel.
There is almost no wind when we come out of the harbor and around the point. It is a beautiful evening. As we enter the channel we pick up the tide and soon are going at 7 kts. Well this is going to wreck havoc with our careful plans. One thing we did not expect was extra speed but is is early and anything can still happen tonight. Since it is lovely and calm and everything is under control and the engine is on, Alan opts for another nap. The sun sets in a blaze of lovely colors. Little by little the mountains on shore turn to silhouette. There is a new moon following the sun down in the west and the stars are getting brighter. Only thing wrong is the sound of the engine running. Then I feel a puff of air. Gradually, as we pass the end of the island the wind picks up and finally I can turn off the engine. Now it is perfect. Alan wakes up and cooks dinner and we eat together in the cockpit and sing silly songs.
After one more round of naps and swims and a big lunch, we set off. Everything is tied down tight. (By the way, the fenders cam through the wild night ride just fine). Food for the night is ready. Thermos is full of hot water. Alan has a plan for exactly what to do with the sails, depending on how much wind we get. At this point is seems useless to try to get a forecast, since they never seem to have any relation to the actual conditions. Much like sailing in the Santa Barbara Channel.
There is almost no wind when we come out of the harbor and around the point. It is a beautiful evening. As we enter the channel we pick up the tide and soon are going at 7 kts. Well this is going to wreck havoc with our careful plans. One thing we did not expect was extra speed but is is early and anything can still happen tonight. Since it is lovely and calm and everything is under control and the engine is on, Alan opts for another nap. The sun sets in a blaze of lovely colors. Little by little the mountains on shore turn to silhouette. There is a new moon following the sun down in the west and the stars are getting brighter. Only thing wrong is the sound of the engine running. Then I feel a puff of air. Gradually, as we pass the end of the island the wind picks up and finally I can turn off the engine. Now it is perfect. Alan wakes up and cooks dinner and we eat together in the cockpit and sing silly songs.
And so on we trek. Despite the strong wind, we are only going 1-2 knots and it is almost impossible to hold a course. Finally Alan decides to turn on the engine to see if we can get back closer to shore where maybe either the wind will be less or the seas calmer, or both. He is starting to get that look he gets when he has not had enough to eat and needs sleep. We are definitely going to stop at Los Muertos for the day to rest. Eventually we get close enough to land that things do calm down. And then they calm to the point that there is now almost no wind and we take down the staysail, too, leaving just the mizzen. Finally I can heat some soup and get a quick nap. Alan finally decides that it is safe to leave me in charge while he gets a nap.
Now we have the problem of time to kill until it is light enough to anchor safely. And so I zigzag my way up the coast, offshore until I come out from behind the lea of the point and hit rough waves again and then inshore until I am too close and then back off shore again. Since the engine is running we have the radar on, which is nice since it is fairly shallow close to shore. The radar uses so much power to run that we usually do not turn it on unless we also have this engine on. This works out pretty well actually because we usually have the engine on when we are going in and out of a harbor or in some kind of tricky situation. There are an amazing number of lights along what we thought was a deserted coastline. Way off in the distance is a glow from Cabo San Lucas. The moon went down about 9pm and the stars are bright as usual. Back and forth I go until eventually I decide that this is a silly waste of gas. It is still four hours till dawn. If we are not going anywhere anyway, we might as well turn off the engine. We drift along until we can see the lights of the anchorage then heave to to wait for the dawn. The minute it is light we turn on the engine, motor in, drop anchor and fall into bed.
The day is spent sleeping, swimming and cleaning up the mess of stuff that crashed. Actually it is not as bad as it seemed last night. There is the usual pile of books and charts and pencils and glasses and small screws and washers that never got put away but everything that was in it’s proper place did just fine. It is lovely and calm here, and hot. We set up the wind scoop over the hatch and the cabin is instantly cooler.
Once we catch up on our sleep we get out the charts and cruising guides and study the next leg. This time we will be prepared for anything. First we realize that we will be going through a narrow channel between and island the the shore. Charlie’s Charts strongly suggests this be done at slack tide. Somehow we had missed that note earlier. Now we need to see if we have functioning tide app on the iPad. OK, low tide at 6:30 pm. We figure a couple of hours to raise anchor, get out of the harbor and around the point so a 3:30 cast off should work. It is going to be another all night sail, ending with another narrow passage into the harbor at La Paz. We would like to get there at dawn. It looks to be about 30 miles. At this point, we have absolutely no average speed to use for estimating, so we just pick 4 kts, randomly. That gives us around 10 hours straight sail and more with tacks. That should get us there in the morning.
After one more round of naps and swims and a big lunch, we set off. Everything is tied down tight. (By the way, the fenders cam through the wild night ride just fine). Food for the night is ready. Thermos is full of hot water. Alan has a plan for exactly what to do with the sails, depending on how much wind we get. At this point is seems useless to try to get a forecast, since they never seem to have any relation to the actual conditions. Much like sailing in the Santa Barbara Channel.
There is almost no wind when we come out of the harbor and around the point. It is a beautiful evening. As we enter the channel we pick up the tide and soon are going at 7 kts. Well this is going to wreck havoc with our careful plans. One thing we did not expect was extra speed but is is early and anything can still happen tonight. Since it is lovely and calm and everything is under control and the engine is on, Alan opts for another nap. The sun sets in a blaze of lovely colors. Little by little the mountains on shore turn to silhouette. There is a new moon following the sun down in the west and the stars are getting brighter. Only thing wrong is the sound of the engine running. Then I feel a puff of air. Gradually, as we pass the end of the island the wind picks up and finally I can turn off the engine. Now it is perfect. Alan wakes up and cooks dinner and we eat together in the cockpit and sing silly songs.
After one more round of naps and swims and a big lunch, we set off. Everything is tied down tight. (By the way, the fenders cam through the wild night ride just fine). Food for the night is ready. Thermos is full of hot water. Alan has a plan for exactly what to do with the sails, depending on how much wind we get. At this point is seems useless to try to get a forecast, since they never seem to have any relation to the actual conditions. Much like sailing in the Santa Barbara Channel.
There is almost no wind when we come out of the harbor and around the point. It is a beautiful evening. As we enter the channel we pick up the tide and soon are going at 7 kts. Well this is going to wreck havoc with our careful plans. One thing we did not expect was extra speed but is is early and anything can still happen tonight. Since it is lovely and calm and everything is under control and the engine is on, Alan opts for another nap. The sun sets in a blaze of lovely colors. Little by little the mountains on shore turn to silhouette. There is a new moon following the sun down in the west and the stars are getting brighter. Only thing wrong is the sound of the engine running. Then I feel a puff of air. Gradually, as we pass the end of the island the wind picks up and finally I can turn off the engine. Now it is perfect. Alan wakes up and cooks dinner and we eat together in the cockpit and sing silly songs.
Nov. 16, 2012, Friday, Los Frailes to Bahia de Los Muertos
We set out from Los Frailes in the morning after a good night’s sleep, intending to sail straight through to La Paz. Several other boats had weather reports and it sounded good, 15 k winds from the NW, getting lighter in the evening and over the next several days. (We have not quite figured out how to get weather on the radio. We are fine as long as we have internet.) When we got outside the harbor there was a brisk breeze. We set the sails to tack off shore and away we went. We had expected heavy winds so we had the staysail up along with the main and mizzen and settled into our routine of snacks and naps to get us through the next 2 days of sailing. Sometime in the afternoon, Alan decided that the wind was not as strong as he expected and put up the regular jib. For whatever reason he did not take down the staysail so now we had 4 sails up. He just loves to play with the sails, try this one and then that one and various combinations to see what works.
And then, instead of dying down as predicted, the wind began to build, close to 20 knots. Seas were coming at us from all directions. I guess they were not really very big, just short and choppy, but they seemed huge. Of all the sailing issues, I think I dislike swells and waves the most. Either we were rolling wildly from side to side with things in the cabin crashing around or we were plowing nose first into waves that sent sheets of water clear over the deck. At least the water was warm. Good thing, because we were both soaked before I got out our waterproof jackets and pants again.
We were actually still on our carefully plotted course for once and it is more or less time to tack. Unfortunately the new tack is no smoother than the old one. The wind is still howling and the waves are still coming. Of course now it is getting late in the day and we need to do something about the sails before it gets dark. First down comes the main. This involves Alan clawing his way up to the mast while I try to head up into the wind so that he can get the sail down. Once that is done we sail easier but still have 2 jibs up. He finally decides to take the bigger one down, leaving the smaller staysail up. Again he struggles to the bow while I hold the tiller. Only this time it is not just a matter of holding onto the mast and dropping the sail. He has to first loosen the lines and then grab hold of the wildly flapping sail and roll it towards the bowsprit where it gets tied down. We bless our wonderful bow pulpit every time this happens. Finally here we are, new tack towards shore, mizzen and staysail up, winds mostly over 20 knots, crazy waves and it is dark. And oh yeah, we have not eaten since peanut butter sandwiches for lunch. It is impossible to try to cook in this mess. Not only are things sliding all over but the minute I go below I start to get seasick. Out come the power bars. The hot water that I put in the thermos this morning is luke warm but I find some instant coffee packets and at least it is something. Obviously neither one of us is going to get any sleep tonight.
While we had secured thing fairly well before setting out this morning, we had not expected this. Our 4 large fenders sit in front of the cabin, 2 on each side of the mast. We keep thinking that we need to find a better place for them but until the projects are done there is no room. They have never slipped before but with this crazy crashing to all sides I am not sure they will stay. I guess we will find out since there is not much we can do about it now. As far as I can remember, everything else on deck is tied down. Sometime during the dark night there is a loud thunk and a dark object about a foot across flies past. We lost something although I can’t figure out what. (Next day in the daylight the fenders are fine and I can’t find anything missing. I finally decide it was some kind of sea life, a fish or ray, that hit the boat and went flying past)
I am starting to think that we should stop in Los Muertos to rest before we go on to La Paz. If I knew that it was going to be quiet tomorrow so Alan could sleep all day, I would say keep going but I need him to be rested and alert. He needs sleep and food. The next obstacle is going between a large island and the shore.
We set out from Los Frailes in the morning after a good night’s sleep, intending to sail straight through to La Paz. Several other boats had weather reports and it sounded good, 15 k winds from the NW, getting lighter in the evening and over the next several days. (We have not quite figured out how to get weather on the radio. We are fine as long as we have internet.) When we got outside the harbor there was a brisk breeze. We set the sails to tack off shore and away we went. We had expected heavy winds so we had the staysail up along with the main and mizzen and settled into our routine of snacks and naps to get us through the next 2 days of sailing. Sometime in the afternoon, Alan decided that the wind was not as strong as he expected and put up the regular jib. For whatever reason he did not take down the staysail so now we had 4 sails up. He just loves to play with the sails, try this one and then that one and various combinations to see what works.
And then, instead of dying down as predicted, the wind began to build, close to 20 knots. Seas were coming at us from all directions. I guess they were not really very big, just short and choppy, but they seemed huge. Of all the sailing issues, I think I dislike swells and waves the most. Either we were rolling wildly from side to side with things in the cabin crashing around or we were plowing nose first into waves that sent sheets of water clear over the deck. At least the water was warm. Good thing, because we were both soaked before I got out our waterproof jackets and pants again.
We were actually still on our carefully plotted course for once and it is more or less time to tack. Unfortunately the new tack is no smoother than the old one. The wind is still howling and the waves are still coming. Of course now it is getting late in the day and we need to do something about the sails before it gets dark. First down comes the main. This involves Alan clawing his way up to the mast while I try to head up into the wind so that he can get the sail down. Once that is done we sail easier but still have 2 jibs up. He finally decides to take the bigger one down, leaving the smaller staysail up. Again he struggles to the bow while I hold the tiller. Only this time it is not just a matter of holding onto the mast and dropping the sail. He has to first loosen the lines and then grab hold of the wildly flapping sail and roll it towards the bowsprit where it gets tied down. We bless our wonderful bow pulpit every time this happens. Finally here we are, new tack towards shore, mizzen and staysail up, winds mostly over 20 knots, crazy waves and it is dark. And oh yeah, we have not eaten since peanut butter sandwiches for lunch. It is impossible to try to cook in this mess. Not only are things sliding all over but the minute I go below I start to get seasick. Out come the power bars. The hot water that I put in the thermos this morning is luke warm but I find some instant coffee packets and at least it is something. Obviously neither one of us is going to get any sleep tonight.
While we had secured thing fairly well before setting out this morning, we had not expected this. Our 4 large fenders sit in front of the cabin, 2 on each side of the mast. We keep thinking that we need to find a better place for them but until the projects are done there is no room. They have never slipped before but with this crazy crashing to all sides I am not sure they will stay. I guess we will find out since there is not much we can do about it now. As far as I can remember, everything else on deck is tied down. Sometime during the dark night there is a loud thunk and a dark object about a foot across flies past. We lost something although I can’t figure out what. (Next day in the daylight the fenders are fine and I can’t find anything missing. I finally decide it was some kind of sea life, a fish or ray, that hit the boat and went flying past)
I am starting to think that we should stop in Los Muertos to rest before we go on to La Paz. If I knew that it was going to be quiet tomorrow so Alan could sleep all day, I would say keep going but I need him to be rested and alert. He needs sleep and food. The next obstacle is going between a large island and the shore.
Monday, November 19, 2012
Interlude - The mystery of the missing flags
When one is a sailing vessel in foreign waters one is expected to fly the flag of one’s own country and also the flag of the host country. These are called courtesy flags and Alan had climbed up the mast to attach a special pulley and line so that our flags could be raised when appropriate. I had been collecting flags for the countries that we expect to visit for several months. They are not cheep, costing as much as $30 each. I had been searching the internet and checking the shelves at various marine stores while waiting for Alan to complete his next extravagant purchase and had amassed a good supply, although not all of the South Pacific islands. They were kicking around the boat in plastic bags. During one of the last frantic organizing spells, I finally found the perfect container for them. I folded them neatly, all labeled with the name of the country visible and put them ....? Where? That is the question. We both remember me saying “I’ll pt them here with the ... for now, but that is not their real place” Trouble is, we cannot remember where I put them.
Sailing down the coast during the Baja HaHa there were a couple of discussions on the radio about flag educate. Apparently one is to hoist the yellow quarantine flag until cleared by customs and from then on fly the country flag. So when we finally completed all of the paperwork at Cabo on Monday we were ready to get out our Mexican flag and hoist it. Except that we could not find it. Sure that the box would turn up, we went on about our business. The next time we had a free minute we looked again for the flags. No where to be found. Where had I stuffed them? All the obvious places were searched, many of then several times on the theory that they must be someplace. This gradually became a huge issue. One by one nooks and crannies were emptied and repacked. Not only can I not remember where I put them but I also cannot visualize the container I used. This is starting to get personal. I am the queen of organizing. That is what I do; clean up and organize and know where everything is. and how to find it. A long career as a librarian, remember. It has been over a week since we cleared customs in Cabo and tomorrow we have to clear in La Paz. Several storage spaces have been completely emptied and repacked and still no flags. Not in the medicine cabinet. Not in with the beef jerky. Not with the wine or the books. Not in the junk pile behind the head (also called “future projects”). Not even in the engine room or with the cookie stash or in with my underwear.
Tuesday I pack to go home. If they are not found by then, Alan is to go to the tourist shops downtown and buy a cheap mexican flag and hoist it. Maybe, as he eats his way through all the stored food over the next 2 months without me, it will turn up. If not, I guess we will just have to buy a new one every time we get to a new country.
When one is a sailing vessel in foreign waters one is expected to fly the flag of one’s own country and also the flag of the host country. These are called courtesy flags and Alan had climbed up the mast to attach a special pulley and line so that our flags could be raised when appropriate. I had been collecting flags for the countries that we expect to visit for several months. They are not cheep, costing as much as $30 each. I had been searching the internet and checking the shelves at various marine stores while waiting for Alan to complete his next extravagant purchase and had amassed a good supply, although not all of the South Pacific islands. They were kicking around the boat in plastic bags. During one of the last frantic organizing spells, I finally found the perfect container for them. I folded them neatly, all labeled with the name of the country visible and put them ....? Where? That is the question. We both remember me saying “I’ll pt them here with the ... for now, but that is not their real place” Trouble is, we cannot remember where I put them.
Sailing down the coast during the Baja HaHa there were a couple of discussions on the radio about flag educate. Apparently one is to hoist the yellow quarantine flag until cleared by customs and from then on fly the country flag. So when we finally completed all of the paperwork at Cabo on Monday we were ready to get out our Mexican flag and hoist it. Except that we could not find it. Sure that the box would turn up, we went on about our business. The next time we had a free minute we looked again for the flags. No where to be found. Where had I stuffed them? All the obvious places were searched, many of then several times on the theory that they must be someplace. This gradually became a huge issue. One by one nooks and crannies were emptied and repacked. Not only can I not remember where I put them but I also cannot visualize the container I used. This is starting to get personal. I am the queen of organizing. That is what I do; clean up and organize and know where everything is. and how to find it. A long career as a librarian, remember. It has been over a week since we cleared customs in Cabo and tomorrow we have to clear in La Paz. Several storage spaces have been completely emptied and repacked and still no flags. Not in the medicine cabinet. Not in with the beef jerky. Not with the wine or the books. Not in the junk pile behind the head (also called “future projects”). Not even in the engine room or with the cookie stash or in with my underwear.
Tuesday I pack to go home. If they are not found by then, Alan is to go to the tourist shops downtown and buy a cheap mexican flag and hoist it. Maybe, as he eats his way through all the stored food over the next 2 months without me, it will turn up. If not, I guess we will just have to buy a new one every time we get to a new country.
November 15, 2012, Thursday, Los Frailes Bay, Baja California
This was a wonderful lazy day, the first day that actually felt like the dream We slept late and had pancakes for breakfast, Trader Joe’s pumpkin pancakes. Puttered around the boat for a bit and then rowed over to the beach to do some snorkeling. We had heard that there is a coral reef on the other side of the headland and we had considered walking over here but a quick hike up the dunes changed our mind. It was going to be a walk through the scrub brush of at least an hour in the hot sun. So we just swam around the rocky point of this bay. It was beautiful,. The water is clear and warm, so warm. The fish are so tame that I swan right through a school of them and they did not even scatter, just drifted off. I am sorry I don’t know the names of any of them. Guess I need to get a book on mexican fish. Little yellow stripped ones in schools, bright blue ones about as big as a quarter, always alone and close to the bottom. A sea snake, not an eel, black with white stripes around his body snaking in and out of holes in the rocks. A broken fan palm branch hanging in the water is home to dozens of tiny transparent fish hiding in the folds of the leaf. Lots of variations on grey/brown with yellow heads, yellow tails, yellow spots, etc.
Eventually we swam back to the beach, had a picnic and slept on the hot sand. For the first time in my life, I am not trying to get a tan. We are both quite tan enough, thank you and have gotten very little sunburn. The worst problem is Alan’s bald spot. He keeps forgetting to put lotion on it since he can’t see it. There is a cluster of huts up the beach and fishermen bringing their boats in and out but it does not seem worth the energy to walk up there and investigate. After a while we drag the dingy back down to the water and row to the boat. It is truly the most beautiful boat here. A number of other sailors come by in their dingys and comment on how beautiful she is.
Back on board Alan finally gets a haircut. This is my first time using the electric clippers but we figure however it turns out it will be fine. There is no one we are trying to impress any more. On a side note, I am loving my short, short hair and getting envious looks from some of the other women who are struggling with blow dryers and conditioners and various hair clips. I have even gotten compliments from some of the men. Maybe I will start a new trend. Anyway, back to Alan’s haircut. Here we go. Clippers in hand, I start at the back of the neck. Within moments there are long pieces of beautiful red hair blowing al over the deck. Break. We should have cleared everything away and closed the lazaret first. OK, back to work. It goes smoothly for the first few buzzes and then won’t cut. Oh, you did not say I have to stop and clean out the hair. One half is done and I am just getting the swing of it when the clippers stop again. Not caught hair this time. The battery is running low. He looks pretty crazy with half short and half long hair. Guess I can’t stop now. Time for the scissors. Time to find my good sewing scissors. (Maybe I will find the flags while I am at it) I settle on a technique of cutting a patch and then banging the clippers to make them work for a minute to clean it up. Works pretty well and eventually it is done. Nice neat short hair, with just a few uneven patches.
Alan decides it is time for a nap after all that hard work. I hang out on deck and haul up buckets of water to clean off all the hair. As I am finishing I hear lout smacks on the water, like something hitting it hard. I can’t see anything that would be causing such a noise, no racing dingys, no one playing football. Then I see it, a manta ray leaps out of the water and lands with a loud splat, once more, wings flapping, splat. Two jumps and it is gone. I see it a few minutes later way across the bay. But then there is another one right here, and another. For about half and hour I am entertained by leaping rays.
When Alan gets up, we haul up the dingy, fold it flat and lash it to the deck. It actually folds up quickly and easily. It is the unfolding that is difficult. We plan on heading out early tomorrow and sailing straight through to La Paz so everything is picked up or tied down tightly. Dinner is from some more of the rusty cans. After dinner we get out charts and plot a course with possible variations depending on the wind. It is predicted to be moderate and from the NE. That should give us a nice course with a few long tacks.
Early to bed, but what’s new about that. When it gets dark it really gets dark and there is no where to go and nothing to do. Looks like there is a party on one of the other boats but we already put the dingy away.
This was a wonderful lazy day, the first day that actually felt like the dream We slept late and had pancakes for breakfast, Trader Joe’s pumpkin pancakes. Puttered around the boat for a bit and then rowed over to the beach to do some snorkeling. We had heard that there is a coral reef on the other side of the headland and we had considered walking over here but a quick hike up the dunes changed our mind. It was going to be a walk through the scrub brush of at least an hour in the hot sun. So we just swam around the rocky point of this bay. It was beautiful,. The water is clear and warm, so warm. The fish are so tame that I swan right through a school of them and they did not even scatter, just drifted off. I am sorry I don’t know the names of any of them. Guess I need to get a book on mexican fish. Little yellow stripped ones in schools, bright blue ones about as big as a quarter, always alone and close to the bottom. A sea snake, not an eel, black with white stripes around his body snaking in and out of holes in the rocks. A broken fan palm branch hanging in the water is home to dozens of tiny transparent fish hiding in the folds of the leaf. Lots of variations on grey/brown with yellow heads, yellow tails, yellow spots, etc.
Eventually we swam back to the beach, had a picnic and slept on the hot sand. For the first time in my life, I am not trying to get a tan. We are both quite tan enough, thank you and have gotten very little sunburn. The worst problem is Alan’s bald spot. He keeps forgetting to put lotion on it since he can’t see it. There is a cluster of huts up the beach and fishermen bringing their boats in and out but it does not seem worth the energy to walk up there and investigate. After a while we drag the dingy back down to the water and row to the boat. It is truly the most beautiful boat here. A number of other sailors come by in their dingys and comment on how beautiful she is.
Back on board Alan finally gets a haircut. This is my first time using the electric clippers but we figure however it turns out it will be fine. There is no one we are trying to impress any more. On a side note, I am loving my short, short hair and getting envious looks from some of the other women who are struggling with blow dryers and conditioners and various hair clips. I have even gotten compliments from some of the men. Maybe I will start a new trend. Anyway, back to Alan’s haircut. Here we go. Clippers in hand, I start at the back of the neck. Within moments there are long pieces of beautiful red hair blowing al over the deck. Break. We should have cleared everything away and closed the lazaret first. OK, back to work. It goes smoothly for the first few buzzes and then won’t cut. Oh, you did not say I have to stop and clean out the hair. One half is done and I am just getting the swing of it when the clippers stop again. Not caught hair this time. The battery is running low. He looks pretty crazy with half short and half long hair. Guess I can’t stop now. Time for the scissors. Time to find my good sewing scissors. (Maybe I will find the flags while I am at it) I settle on a technique of cutting a patch and then banging the clippers to make them work for a minute to clean it up. Works pretty well and eventually it is done. Nice neat short hair, with just a few uneven patches.
Alan decides it is time for a nap after all that hard work. I hang out on deck and haul up buckets of water to clean off all the hair. As I am finishing I hear lout smacks on the water, like something hitting it hard. I can’t see anything that would be causing such a noise, no racing dingys, no one playing football. Then I see it, a manta ray leaps out of the water and lands with a loud splat, once more, wings flapping, splat. Two jumps and it is gone. I see it a few minutes later way across the bay. But then there is another one right here, and another. For about half and hour I am entertained by leaping rays.
When Alan gets up, we haul up the dingy, fold it flat and lash it to the deck. It actually folds up quickly and easily. It is the unfolding that is difficult. We plan on heading out early tomorrow and sailing straight through to La Paz so everything is picked up or tied down tightly. Dinner is from some more of the rusty cans. After dinner we get out charts and plot a course with possible variations depending on the wind. It is predicted to be moderate and from the NE. That should give us a nice course with a few long tacks.
Early to bed, but what’s new about that. When it gets dark it really gets dark and there is no where to go and nothing to do. Looks like there is a party on one of the other boats but we already put the dingy away.
Sunday, November 18, 2012
Nov 14, 2012 Wednesday, Los Frailes, Baja California.
Finally it is time, we tack and head back to shore. The motion is easier this way, but now we are only making 1-2 knots of speed. I have been watching some lights in the distance for a while, thinking they are fishing boats. Eventually I figure out that the flashing one is a shore light and we are heading straight for it, although it is still quite a way off. We are 9 miles from our destination. It is 3 hours till dawn. We are going about 2 kts so that is about right, except that we cannot point in the right direction. We keep heading towards the shore, rather than parallel to it. We are going to have to tack and head back out to sea again. Don’t want to do that. Finally we decide to start the engine and drop the jib. It sky is gradually lightening, we can start to make out the shoreline. There is our destination, a small cluster of lights. As it get brighter we see about a dozen boast anchored there. We drop anchor about 7am and tumble into bed.
We spend a lazy day, sleeping and swimming and straightening up form the overnight sail. Listening to radio chatter. There is a party tonight on one of the other boats. Someone has made a huge bowl of ceviche that they want to share. During the afternoon other Haha boats start to arrive and by party time there are 20 or more boats in the little bay. Everyone crowds on to the party boat, a beautiful catamaran. Stories of the sail up are exchanged and everyone talks about where they are going next.
Back at the boat, we get out our charts and plot our course for La Paz. We will spend one more day here and then sail straight through to La Paz. We have to get there by Tuesday so that I can catch my flight home on Wednesday. Alan is gong to stay with the boat and work on all of those projects that never got done. I have to go back and have 28 days of radiation for an enlarged blood vessel in my neck right by my ear. We found out about this a couple of months before we left. At first the doctors said that it would be fine to just watch it and not treat it right away, but they wanted me to come in for an MRI every 6 months. After several more discussions, CAT scans and doctor visits, we decided that we might as well get it taken care of now and then we would not have to worry about it any more. It is not malignant, although it is called a glomus tumor, and it is not causing any problems now. But if it suddenly starts to grow fast I could loose my hearing and lots of other bad stuff. So I will be home for the holidays after all and all alone. Invite me to all of your parties
Finally it is time, we tack and head back to shore. The motion is easier this way, but now we are only making 1-2 knots of speed. I have been watching some lights in the distance for a while, thinking they are fishing boats. Eventually I figure out that the flashing one is a shore light and we are heading straight for it, although it is still quite a way off. We are 9 miles from our destination. It is 3 hours till dawn. We are going about 2 kts so that is about right, except that we cannot point in the right direction. We keep heading towards the shore, rather than parallel to it. We are going to have to tack and head back out to sea again. Don’t want to do that. Finally we decide to start the engine and drop the jib. It sky is gradually lightening, we can start to make out the shoreline. There is our destination, a small cluster of lights. As it get brighter we see about a dozen boast anchored there. We drop anchor about 7am and tumble into bed.
We spend a lazy day, sleeping and swimming and straightening up form the overnight sail. Listening to radio chatter. There is a party tonight on one of the other boats. Someone has made a huge bowl of ceviche that they want to share. During the afternoon other Haha boats start to arrive and by party time there are 20 or more boats in the little bay. Everyone crowds on to the party boat, a beautiful catamaran. Stories of the sail up are exchanged and everyone talks about where they are going next.
Back at the boat, we get out our charts and plot our course for La Paz. We will spend one more day here and then sail straight through to La Paz. We have to get there by Tuesday so that I can catch my flight home on Wednesday. Alan is gong to stay with the boat and work on all of those projects that never got done. I have to go back and have 28 days of radiation for an enlarged blood vessel in my neck right by my ear. We found out about this a couple of months before we left. At first the doctors said that it would be fine to just watch it and not treat it right away, but they wanted me to come in for an MRI every 6 months. After several more discussions, CAT scans and doctor visits, we decided that we might as well get it taken care of now and then we would not have to worry about it any more. It is not malignant, although it is called a glomus tumor, and it is not causing any problems now. But if it suddenly starts to grow fast I could loose my hearing and lots of other bad stuff. So I will be home for the holidays after all and all alone. Invite me to all of your parties
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