We made our escape from the marina yesterday with fuel tanks topped off. Getting in and out of marinas and fuel docks is always the most stressful part, but we time it well and didn't have much wind or other boats to contend with.
With calm winds we're taking time to stop at a couple of fair weather anchorages that we couldn't visit on our way north. We stopped at the SE end of Carmen Island last night. It was reported to offer whale sightings and nice views. Whales have been spotted, but they're a long way off. Tonight we'll see if there is anyone in a small cove called Caleta Candeleros Chico or Little Candlestick Cove. It's only got room for one boat so we'll head for an alternate if it's already occupied.
Kay is baking today. We're not entirely sure we have enough propane for such an extravagance, but brownies and banana muffins are worth the risk.
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Saturday, February 29, 2020
Thursday, February 27, 2020
Monday, February 24, 2020
Mission Abort!
We've been docked in a marina at Puerto Escondido for several days now. We refilled our tanks, recharged the batteries, reprovisioned and enjoyed showers and Wi-Fi. But, as nice as it is to take care of necessities, the crew was anxious to be under way again. There is only so much civilization we're inclined to tolerate.
The plan was to depart this morning, stop at the fuel dock and be on our way. The wind had other ideas. It was forecasted to blow fifteen knots today, gusting to 25, but we figured that traveling down wind as we were, it shouldn't be a problem. The trouble came trying to get out of the slip.
It's easy to turn the boat into the wind when there is forward motion and water is flowing over the rudder. We can even push water over the rudder with the propeller when the boat is standing still, but the turning force is much smaller and can't counter much wind. It is one thing to know all that and another to know how the present wind and the condition of the hull will impact our ability to turn.
Had we been able to back the boat into the slip, it might have been easier to exit with a running start and turn the boat, but we were bow in and had to back the boat out of the slip and then start forward again. We were doomed. The wind just kept blowing the bow around, preventing me from turning into the wind. We were being pushed sideways down the marina. I was luckily able to duck into an empty slip several spaces downwind from where we started. We are so lucky we didn't crash into another boat - like one that might have been occupying the slip I was forced into.
The wind isn't supposed to let up for several days, so we'll be here for a while, trapped in an expensive marina with no way to get out until it calms a little. And how much is a little?
Oh well, at least the boat and crew are in one piece. The expense of the marina is much less than repairing someone else's boat. Thank goodness for inexpensive lessons.
Sunday, February 23, 2020
Kay's Blog address
For a more complete picture of this trip, I highly recommend Kay's Blog:
I don't have the luxury (to say nothing of the inclination) for posting photos of myself, so Kay's Blog also offers evidence that I am actually participating! 😃
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Inquiring minds want to know!
Every now and then we find ourselves wishing we had better access to online information. Watching pelicans diving for fish for example, I wondered out loud: what is the life span of a pelican? The reason I was wondering that is because I stood in same spot twenty-five years ago, watching pelicans dive and it made me wonder how many generations of pelicans have come and gone in that time. Then Kay had a great idea: we should ask our loyal followers to post the answers to interesting questions as blog comments. We'll try that and see what kind of response is generated. For now, we're in port and can answer that question: Pelicans are reported to live 15 to 25 years in the wild, which means we could be seeing some of the same pelicans I saw 25 years ago.
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Wednesday, February 19, 2020
Porpoise Play
We appear to be in a porpoise play pen for the night, a veritable octopus' garden in the sea. The porpoises have been frolicking around the boat all afternoon, leaping completely out of the water at times as though they were trained at the San Diego aquarium. They splash about and slap their tails on the water like little kids let free for summer vacation. How interesting it would be to exchange places with them for a few moments. It's an idea without meaning, but fun to contemplate. They might find the experience more alarming than interesting.
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Monday, February 17, 2020
Phosphorescence
We've seen phosphorescence in the water wherever we've gone, from Glacier Bay to Cabo, but it appears especially lively at times in the Sea of Cortez. We were enjoying a quiet dark evening after dinner a couple of nights ago, when fish started splashing. Each splash was accompanied by an explosion of light. After that light show settled down, we started to see twinkling under the water, brought about by random currents, then thin lines of light as fish jetted around. It was a scene reminiscent of the movie: "Life of Pi."
There is a lot less life in our current anchorage: Punta Pulpito. Fewer cacti, fewer birds, fewer fish; it feels more like a rock quarry than anything else we've seen. That didn't keep us from getting off the boat after breakfast this morning. With three crew, a dinghy and two paddle boards, we each chose a mode of transport and scattered. Petar walked, Kay paddled, and Rod scrambled up a hill. It was a hot day, but the exercise was awesome.
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There is a lot less life in our current anchorage: Punta Pulpito. Fewer cacti, fewer birds, fewer fish; it feels more like a rock quarry than anything else we've seen. That didn't keep us from getting off the boat after breakfast this morning. With three crew, a dinghy and two paddle boards, we each chose a mode of transport and scattered. Petar walked, Kay paddled, and Rod scrambled up a hill. It was a hot day, but the exercise was awesome.
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Friday, February 14, 2020
Not Speaking Spanish
The hike today was a good workout. It took us forty minutes or so to hump our way up to a local summit following an endless procession of cairns. The final fifty feet or so of elevation gain felt a bit like the rock on the North Twin Sister. We never did find the petroglyphs. As I told Kay: there are those who can find petroglyphs even when they're not looking for them, those who can find them when they are, and those who can't find them even when they look. We count ourselves in the last group.
While we were rowing the dinghy to shore, we aimed for a spot on the beach in front of a restaurant: Bertha's. Kay said we should ask the gentleman standing on the beach if it would be okay to leave our dinghy there while we hiked. There was some discussion about how to word the question in Spanish. We finally settled on "Podemos dejar nuestro dinghy aqui?"
While we pulled the dinghy up the beach I was walking backward assuming the beach was empty, but what I didn't know was that the guy had a puppy who was curious, or excited or whatever, so I accidentally walked backward over the poor puppy. It yelped and the guy scooped it up and stormed off while I tried to apologize in Spanish. I remember wondering why would he let his puppy get in our way? And: is the puppy okay? And: now who are we going to ask for permission to leave our dinghy? As it turned out, the restaurant was closed, abandoned, partially burned out, so there was no one around to care where we left our dinghy. And: later we met the guy and his puppy (who was fine) and he turned out to be an Aussi who didn't speak Spanish (at least to us).
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While we were rowing the dinghy to shore, we aimed for a spot on the beach in front of a restaurant: Bertha's. Kay said we should ask the gentleman standing on the beach if it would be okay to leave our dinghy there while we hiked. There was some discussion about how to word the question in Spanish. We finally settled on "Podemos dejar nuestro dinghy aqui?"
While we pulled the dinghy up the beach I was walking backward assuming the beach was empty, but what I didn't know was that the guy had a puppy who was curious, or excited or whatever, so I accidentally walked backward over the poor puppy. It yelped and the guy scooped it up and stormed off while I tried to apologize in Spanish. I remember wondering why would he let his puppy get in our way? And: is the puppy okay? And: now who are we going to ask for permission to leave our dinghy? As it turned out, the restaurant was closed, abandoned, partially burned out, so there was no one around to care where we left our dinghy. And: later we met the guy and his puppy (who was fine) and he turned out to be an Aussi who didn't speak Spanish (at least to us).
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Eating well
It was the captain's turn to cook dinner tonight. I started early and did the Quijote shuffle around Kay as we both vied for galley space. While Kay whipped up four loaves of fresh french bread (OMG was that bread good, warm out of the oven and slathered in butter!), I fried onions, green peppers and ground sausage, then stirred in a jar of marinera sauce and served it over penne pasta.
We erected the cockpit table and enjoyed the meal under clear skies and the setting sun, then shared brownies still warm out of the oven when it was too dark to see. The brownies were rich and chewy. Kay likes to make the most out of a warm oven given our limited propane resource. You won't hear any complaints from the rest of us.
We talked a bit about propane while we gorged on brownies. Ideally it would be nice to enjoy fresh baked bread or brownies occasionally while crossing the Pacific, but we wonder if its too extravagant, given that opportunities to refill our propane tanks will be scarce.
It is certain that we won't eat as well while crossing the ocean as we do where fresh produce and propane are plentiful. But there is value in eating well and we should do what we can. We decided that if we have the comfort of knowing we will not go hungry, even if we run out of propane, we should be able to give priority to eating well. To that end, we'll stock canned foods that can be eaten cold if necessary: stew, beans, chili, veggies, meats, soups, fruit, etc. Then we'll eat hot meals while we can, fresh food while it lasts, mix in baked foods once in a while, and eat cold canned food if we have to.
That's the strategies anyway. Meals from canned food have the added benefit of being simple to to prepare when conditions get rough. And while it may not be what we would normally choose to eat, it won't last forever. Soon enough we'll find ourselves sitting in a restaurant in Papeete eating fresh fish and vegetables.
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We erected the cockpit table and enjoyed the meal under clear skies and the setting sun, then shared brownies still warm out of the oven when it was too dark to see. The brownies were rich and chewy. Kay likes to make the most out of a warm oven given our limited propane resource. You won't hear any complaints from the rest of us.
We talked a bit about propane while we gorged on brownies. Ideally it would be nice to enjoy fresh baked bread or brownies occasionally while crossing the Pacific, but we wonder if its too extravagant, given that opportunities to refill our propane tanks will be scarce.
It is certain that we won't eat as well while crossing the ocean as we do where fresh produce and propane are plentiful. But there is value in eating well and we should do what we can. We decided that if we have the comfort of knowing we will not go hungry, even if we run out of propane, we should be able to give priority to eating well. To that end, we'll stock canned foods that can be eaten cold if necessary: stew, beans, chili, veggies, meats, soups, fruit, etc. Then we'll eat hot meals while we can, fresh food while it lasts, mix in baked foods once in a while, and eat cold canned food if we have to.
That's the strategies anyway. Meals from canned food have the added benefit of being simple to to prepare when conditions get rough. And while it may not be what we would normally choose to eat, it won't last forever. Soon enough we'll find ourselves sitting in a restaurant in Papeete eating fresh fish and vegetables.
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Thursday, February 13, 2020
Lazy Afternoon
We enjoyed an active morning and a lazy afternoon today. For the last couple of days (and forecasts for the next three) we saw afternoon wind with night and morning calm. Anticipating that, we dinghied to shore early today, and did a short hike. It gave us a rather spectacular view of two anchorages: the one we're in and a more crowded cove to our west. It was so picturesque looking down on the blue-green water and the cluster of sailboats floating peacefully at their anchors. I especially love looking down into a cove where Quijote is anchored. It kind of makes a guy feel like a proud papa.
Back in the dinghy we found one of two hot springs marked on the map. It was a small tide pool at the waters edge, alternately mixed with hot water and cool seawater. Neither Kay nor I were dressed to to enjoy it, but Peter dived right in (killing his cell phone). We left him there to soak for half an hour while we rowed about, exploring the coastline.
The afternoon was filled with domestic pursuits as the wind picked up right on cue. Kay boiled eggs for tomorrow's lunch and washed windows while I serviced the filters in the watermaker and Peter tried to salvage his phone.
A dinghy in an anchorage on a windy day is worthy of caution. People have often been swept to sea, unable to counter the force of the wind with their oars if they have no outboard or it won't start. It's something we are careful to avoid, never stepping into the dinghy without being confident we know what to expect from the weather.
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Back in the dinghy we found one of two hot springs marked on the map. It was a small tide pool at the waters edge, alternately mixed with hot water and cool seawater. Neither Kay nor I were dressed to to enjoy it, but Peter dived right in (killing his cell phone). We left him there to soak for half an hour while we rowed about, exploring the coastline.
The afternoon was filled with domestic pursuits as the wind picked up right on cue. Kay boiled eggs for tomorrow's lunch and washed windows while I serviced the filters in the watermaker and Peter tried to salvage his phone.
A dinghy in an anchorage on a windy day is worthy of caution. People have often been swept to sea, unable to counter the force of the wind with their oars if they have no outboard or it won't start. It's something we are careful to avoid, never stepping into the dinghy without being confident we know what to expect from the weather.
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Wednesday, February 12, 2020
Electronic Charting
The electronic charts are all over the place.
We enjoyed a long day in the sunshine today slogging along the Baja coastline. We plodded our way upwind for more than ten hours. It was good to charge the batteries and fill the fresh water tanks while making significant progress north. After we rounded the point into Bahia Conception it took us another two hours in a cold north wind to sail south again to our anchorage.
Getting into the anchorage was somewhat confusing. We knew where we were going, but were navigating with four different electronic chart sources. The boat's plotter has one source called CMAX, the laptop has navigation software called TimeZero, and my phone and iPad have Navionics and iNavX. And are all contradictory. The plotter is very coarse and wildly inacurate, so we have't bothered with it since arriving in Mexico. Time zero has better detail, but carries a large offset which makes it impossible to use under way while in Mexico. Navionics is more accurate, but shows the current anchorage as drying and generally can't be trusted for anchoring. The iNavX data that I downloaded from the guide book's website is a life saver. I don't know what we would do without it. Or what people did twenty years ago. Actually I do know: the same thing we did in Puget Sound twenty years ago: paper charts and dead reckoning. It's nice to have an alternative to reliving those days.
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We enjoyed a long day in the sunshine today slogging along the Baja coastline. We plodded our way upwind for more than ten hours. It was good to charge the batteries and fill the fresh water tanks while making significant progress north. After we rounded the point into Bahia Conception it took us another two hours in a cold north wind to sail south again to our anchorage.
Getting into the anchorage was somewhat confusing. We knew where we were going, but were navigating with four different electronic chart sources. The boat's plotter has one source called CMAX, the laptop has navigation software called TimeZero, and my phone and iPad have Navionics and iNavX. And are all contradictory. The plotter is very coarse and wildly inacurate, so we have't bothered with it since arriving in Mexico. Time zero has better detail, but carries a large offset which makes it impossible to use under way while in Mexico. Navionics is more accurate, but shows the current anchorage as drying and generally can't be trusted for anchoring. The iNavX data that I downloaded from the guide book's website is a life saver. I don't know what we would do without it. Or what people did twenty years ago. Actually I do know: the same thing we did in Puget Sound twenty years ago: paper charts and dead reckoning. It's nice to have an alternative to reliving those days.
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Sunday, February 9, 2020
All's swell
We were five and a half hours under way today in mostly calm, placid water. The winds kicked up from the south as we arrived, so we were left with the decision to anchor for the winds as they were or for the winds as they were forecasted to be. I opted for the latter, figuring that wind from an unforecasted direction would probably not remain long. That was the case, as it turns out.
It's usually preferable to anchor on the side of the bay from which the wind is blowing because the land dampens its velocity and because there is less distance for the waves to build. Swell from the open water outside the bay will also be bigger on the downwind side as it refracts around the point where it enters the bay.
We can tell the wind is blowing outside the anchorage because there is substantial swell rolling us about, but it must have backed from the north because the hills are offering protection and we're not feeling it. We have no wind, but a lot of swell rocking us about.
We might have a few days in this anchorage, partly because it's lovely and there is recreating to be done, and partly because the next good anchorage to the north is a good ten hours away. We'll want to do it on a calm day or a day when the wind is from the south.
Mmmm... It smells like dinner is nearly ready.
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It's usually preferable to anchor on the side of the bay from which the wind is blowing because the land dampens its velocity and because there is less distance for the waves to build. Swell from the open water outside the bay will also be bigger on the downwind side as it refracts around the point where it enters the bay.
We can tell the wind is blowing outside the anchorage because there is substantial swell rolling us about, but it must have backed from the north because the hills are offering protection and we're not feeling it. We have no wind, but a lot of swell rocking us about.
We might have a few days in this anchorage, partly because it's lovely and there is recreating to be done, and partly because the next good anchorage to the north is a good ten hours away. We'll want to do it on a calm day or a day when the wind is from the south.
Mmmm... It smells like dinner is nearly ready.
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Thursday, February 6, 2020
Feels like home
Showers and internet today - first time in over two weeks. The shower was bliss; the Internet, not so much. At least it's free and reasonably functional as long as you confine your work to the "Mariner's Lounge".
When we were ready to return to the boat the wind was up and the seas were pitching. We had to get back though, so we headed out into it against our better judgment. I managed to get us back without capsizing the dinghy, but we were all soaked to the bone in sea water. So much for the fresh water shower.
The watermaker failed again. Same symptoms, different cause. This time the feed pump wasn't running. I traced the problem to a loose wire. I can wiggle the connector to make it work. Sigh. At lest I know what the problem is. That or I'm like the chipmunk that lifts his tail and an acorn drops in front of him, so he keeps lifting his tail expecting the same result.
We made a provisioning run into Loredo today, fourteen miles. $25 each way for a taxi, $35 to rent a car for the day. No busses. We opted for the car rental. Afternoon winds were similar to yesterday so rather than being treated to another seawater shower we paid a water taxi to ferry us back to the boat. It was $5 well spent. We were carrying too much cargo for the dinghy anyway. We are well stocked with fresh produce.
Kay talked to someone that has been getting out here every year for ages and she said they have never before seen it so cold and windy. I've been wondering about that. This just doesn't feel like Mexico.
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When we were ready to return to the boat the wind was up and the seas were pitching. We had to get back though, so we headed out into it against our better judgment. I managed to get us back without capsizing the dinghy, but we were all soaked to the bone in sea water. So much for the fresh water shower.
The watermaker failed again. Same symptoms, different cause. This time the feed pump wasn't running. I traced the problem to a loose wire. I can wiggle the connector to make it work. Sigh. At lest I know what the problem is. That or I'm like the chipmunk that lifts his tail and an acorn drops in front of him, so he keeps lifting his tail expecting the same result.
We made a provisioning run into Loredo today, fourteen miles. $25 each way for a taxi, $35 to rent a car for the day. No busses. We opted for the car rental. Afternoon winds were similar to yesterday so rather than being treated to another seawater shower we paid a water taxi to ferry us back to the boat. It was $5 well spent. We were carrying too much cargo for the dinghy anyway. We are well stocked with fresh produce.
Kay talked to someone that has been getting out here every year for ages and she said they have never before seen it so cold and windy. I've been wondering about that. This just doesn't feel like Mexico.
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Wednesday, February 5, 2020
Monday, February 3, 2020
The Watermaker is working!
Yahoo! I woke this morning with the watermaker on my mind, running through strategies. With no way to flush it weekly, I needed to sacrifice three gallons of fresh water to preserve the membrane if I ever hoped to be able to make use of it again. So I returned to the manual to review the pickling procedure.
While my nose was in the manual, I re-read the section on bypassing the sensors. It was, I think, a misunderstanding that led me to believe that the section didn't apply to me or was not something that I could execute. When I re-read it, it clicked into place with a new clarity. It was exactly what I needed and thanks to some hardware I installed for sampling the product output, I would be able to follow the procedure easily. Best of all, I wouldn't need to spend any water to try it out. It would either make water or it wouldn't and I'd know right away whether the sensor or the pump was bad.
After disconnecting some tubes and reconfiguring the system, I flipped a switch on the control box and the pumps fired up: no water and the Clark pump wasn't cycling. That suggested to me that either the Clark pump wasn't working properly or it wasn't getting the water it needed. If the latter was the case... then I looked at the service valve. The yellow handle was in the middle position covering the label that said OFF. I turned that handle down, fired up the pumps and immediately began generating water!
It was all a procedural error on my part after pickling the system several months ago, I didn't put the handle back in the right position. Dang! But Yahoo!
I celebrated by running the watermaker for an hour, making six gallons of water and spending three to flush the membrane - just what it needed. I ran the engine for that hour so we'd be charging, rather than discharging the batteries. Tomorrow I'll run it again while we're motoring to the next anchorage.
The desalinator is back in business!
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While my nose was in the manual, I re-read the section on bypassing the sensors. It was, I think, a misunderstanding that led me to believe that the section didn't apply to me or was not something that I could execute. When I re-read it, it clicked into place with a new clarity. It was exactly what I needed and thanks to some hardware I installed for sampling the product output, I would be able to follow the procedure easily. Best of all, I wouldn't need to spend any water to try it out. It would either make water or it wouldn't and I'd know right away whether the sensor or the pump was bad.
After disconnecting some tubes and reconfiguring the system, I flipped a switch on the control box and the pumps fired up: no water and the Clark pump wasn't cycling. That suggested to me that either the Clark pump wasn't working properly or it wasn't getting the water it needed. If the latter was the case... then I looked at the service valve. The yellow handle was in the middle position covering the label that said OFF. I turned that handle down, fired up the pumps and immediately began generating water!
It was all a procedural error on my part after pickling the system several months ago, I didn't put the handle back in the right position. Dang! But Yahoo!
I celebrated by running the watermaker for an hour, making six gallons of water and spending three to flush the membrane - just what it needed. I ran the engine for that hour so we'd be charging, rather than discharging the batteries. Tomorrow I'll run it again while we're motoring to the next anchorage.
The desalinator is back in business!
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Saturday, February 1, 2020
Noon Sights
We're on day three at the Puerto Los Gatos (The Cats) anchorage waiting for the winds to die down before we proceed northward. Tucked in behind a prominent point of land and protected from the north winds, we can peer out into the open water and be thankful we have a place to hide. The whitecaps look intimidating out there.
While we wait I thought I'd practice some celestial navigation and take a few noon sights with my sextant. The sun lifts itself from the horizon every morning and settles back down again every night. Somewhere in between those events, it passes the meridian, a point where it's at its maximum point above the horizon. It's the actual time of noon for that point on the planet. The time of the meridian tells you your longitude and the height at the meridian can tell you your latitude.
I used tables in the Nautical Almanac to predict the time of the meridian passage (12:38), then used my sextant to observe that the height of the sun above the horizon slowly increased before 12:38 and then decreased thereafter. I used the height measured at exactly 12:38 to calculate (with more tables and some arithmetic) our latitude: 25 deg 13' N. The GPS says our actual latitude is 25 deg 18' N, a difference of 5 minutes or about 5 miles. I'm happy with that, especially considering my horizon is actually a distant shoreline. Five miles is close enough to find an island in the Pacific if we lose our GPS. Next up: sighting stars and planets.
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While we wait I thought I'd practice some celestial navigation and take a few noon sights with my sextant. The sun lifts itself from the horizon every morning and settles back down again every night. Somewhere in between those events, it passes the meridian, a point where it's at its maximum point above the horizon. It's the actual time of noon for that point on the planet. The time of the meridian tells you your longitude and the height at the meridian can tell you your latitude.
I used tables in the Nautical Almanac to predict the time of the meridian passage (12:38), then used my sextant to observe that the height of the sun above the horizon slowly increased before 12:38 and then decreased thereafter. I used the height measured at exactly 12:38 to calculate (with more tables and some arithmetic) our latitude: 25 deg 13' N. The GPS says our actual latitude is 25 deg 18' N, a difference of 5 minutes or about 5 miles. I'm happy with that, especially considering my horizon is actually a distant shoreline. Five miles is close enough to find an island in the Pacific if we lose our GPS. Next up: sighting stars and planets.
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