Kay and I alternate use of the quarter berth on Rover. It's alongside the companionway on the port quarter (left rear corner). The head occupies the starboard quarter. The door into the quarter berth opens into a small space with a seat from where one can side into the berth. Extricating oneself feels a bit like, well... birth. As many English words have their origins in nautical use and visa-versa, it wouldn't surprise me if the word berth owes its origin to such sentiments. I write while seated on the small seat inside the quarter berth just described. It feels a bit like sitting in a phone booth.
Climbing up the stairs of the companionway to my right takes us into the cockpit and the outside world. Below deck, proceeding forward down the center of the boat we pass the nav station on our right and the galley on our left.
The nav station is essentially a desk surrounded by the electronic components used to navigate and assess weather. It wasn't long ago that the desk saw greater use. Nautical charts can be large, so the size of the desk was important. Lately, with more focus on electronic navigation, the work space has moved from the nav station to the iPad. Even so, like the size of a man's garage, a certain sense of verility can be displayed by the size of the nav station.
No so the galley. The galley is probably not much different than it was a thousand years ago. Unless you're feeding slaves gruel from a bucket, the essential components remain the same: storage, cooking, cleanup. That said, propane stoves have improved over the years. They're safer and easier to operate than they used to be, even twenty years ago. The galley is never big enough.
Proceeding forward we find the main saloon, pronounced like salon when it's on a boat. It's the communal space used for indoor meals, card games, storage and sleeping. The main saloon is the other place that Kay and I alternate with the quarter berth. It's more exposed to the clatter of people moving about the boat than the quarter berth, which can be closed off; hence our decision to alternate. Navigating through large seas, the boat can roll and pitch about, sometimes severely. To keep sleeping persons from turning into projectiles, we tie up canvas restraining walls called lee-cloths. It's marginally easier to sleep in such conditions when you're restrained from being thrown on the floor.
Forward of the main saloon on this boat is the forward berth and storage for sails, water maker equipment, and anchor chain.
That, my friends, is a quick tour of the sailing vessel Rover.
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Tuesday, March 31, 2020
Monday, March 30, 2020
Ocean comfort
We're getting a mixture of what we expected and not. As expected we're mostly sailing, but we're making much slower progress than we imagined we would.
https://share.garmin.com/svquijote
This site shows our track. There might be a link on the page that shows all data instead of the most recent data. With all data displayed we can compare the track going south against our more recent track going north against the wind. Aside from more circuitous routing, our speed through the water is much slower going against the wind. Wind and waves are working against us. We've also set smaller sails for the sake of comfort, preservation of equipment, and safety.
When things go wrong out here it gets very chaotic very quickly. Last night the wind was building uncomfortably so we decided to take in some sail and settle the boat down. In the process of trying to do that, the flogging sail tangled the lines. A flogging sail makes a lot of noise. It sounds like boat and sail are tearing themselves apart. In the midst of all that racket, confusion and a sense of doom, it's necessary to think clearly, act with deliberation, and get the problem sorted out. But sort it we did and the experience has left us reluctant to push the performance envelope. We're flying with smaller sails and slowing down. Comfortably.
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https://share.garmin.com/svquijote
This site shows our track. There might be a link on the page that shows all data instead of the most recent data. With all data displayed we can compare the track going south against our more recent track going north against the wind. Aside from more circuitous routing, our speed through the water is much slower going against the wind. Wind and waves are working against us. We've also set smaller sails for the sake of comfort, preservation of equipment, and safety.
When things go wrong out here it gets very chaotic very quickly. Last night the wind was building uncomfortably so we decided to take in some sail and settle the boat down. In the process of trying to do that, the flogging sail tangled the lines. A flogging sail makes a lot of noise. It sounds like boat and sail are tearing themselves apart. In the midst of all that racket, confusion and a sense of doom, it's necessary to think clearly, act with deliberation, and get the problem sorted out. But sort it we did and the experience has left us reluctant to push the performance envelope. We're flying with smaller sails and slowing down. Comfortably.
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Saturday, March 28, 2020
Rest day
Today was a rest day of sorts. We did some minor odd jobs, confirmed the weather window for tomorrow's departure, and reviewed our watch schedule for the next few days. We expect light winds in the morning that should build in the afternoon. We'll get going around 6am and will probably arrive at Man 'o War Cove two days later. There may or may not be fuel when we get there and the trip will be almost entirely up wind, so we'll have to sail whenever we can and conserve our fuel. We're expecting it to be a good couple of days of sailing.
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Thursday, March 26, 2020
Getting to know our sails
It was a light air day today. That meant a lot of motoring. We also got to fly the drifter for a while after the wind picked up to about six knots. The drifter is a sail made out of a lightweight nylon designed for a day like today. It's like a spinnaker in terms of the material used, but it's not designed exclusively for downwind use like the spinnaker is. It does work well downwind though, which is how we used it today. Except for the color, it's a carbon copy of one I have on Quijote. Both were made by Carol Hasse at Port Townsend Sails. It's a great sail to have on a light wind kind of day.
After rounding the corner at Cabo San Lucas and sailing up the coast toward San Diego, we expect to be sailing against the wind most of the time. It will be interesting to see how well the drifter does in those conditions. My experience on Quijote has been that it does best reaching at larger angles to the wind, but doesn't do as well as the genoa at tacking into the wind. That's why some people call it a reacher. In any case, at some point when the wind is light enough, the drifter might out perform the genoa, even upwind. Maybe we'll find out.
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After rounding the corner at Cabo San Lucas and sailing up the coast toward San Diego, we expect to be sailing against the wind most of the time. It will be interesting to see how well the drifter does in those conditions. My experience on Quijote has been that it does best reaching at larger angles to the wind, but doesn't do as well as the genoa at tacking into the wind. That's why some people call it a reacher. In any case, at some point when the wind is light enough, the drifter might out perform the genoa, even upwind. Maybe we'll find out.
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Tuesday, March 24, 2020
Boat Projects
Today was a good day for boat projects and Eric had a list of them. We each had something productive to do, which was great. Linda, Kay and I made soft shackles that were used to reconnect the main sail cover that had become separated from the boom. I repaired a ventilation fan in the head and helped Eric untangle the fishing line rats nest that we created yesterday.
Linda had set out two trolling lines in the middle of the day and by one o'clock we had a fish on. Because the wind was blowing and we were busy sailing the boat, there wasn't time to do anything with it. We drug the fish behind us until shortly before we arrived at the anchorage. By then the fish, which turned out to be a yellow fin tuna had twisted itself around the other line, making a mess of both lines.
It was a mess we left for today, but last night we enjoyed fresh caught tuna barbequed on the grill. Thanks to Linda's willingness to catch and clean the fish, it was a learning experience and quite a treat.
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Linda had set out two trolling lines in the middle of the day and by one o'clock we had a fish on. Because the wind was blowing and we were busy sailing the boat, there wasn't time to do anything with it. We drug the fish behind us until shortly before we arrived at the anchorage. By then the fish, which turned out to be a yellow fin tuna had twisted itself around the other line, making a mess of both lines.
It was a mess we left for today, but last night we enjoyed fresh caught tuna barbequed on the grill. Thanks to Linda's willingness to catch and clean the fish, it was a learning experience and quite a treat.
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Rover
Day three on Rover and we're heading south toward Cabo. From there we'll poke our nose out into the Pacific Ocean, round the corner, and head north. Rover is a 42 foot Valiant, a beautiful ocean capable yacht owned by Eric and Linda who did the Hoho and Haha rallies south with us from Seattle. Kay and I joined them in La Paz for the ride back to San Diego. They were looking for crew and we were looking for a ride.
Yesterday the weather forecast was calling for a sunny day and 10 knots of wind. Instead we got closer to thirty knots by the day's end. We started with a light breeze and all the sails up. Rover has a cutter rig so her working sails include a Genoa, stay sail and main. We were considering adding a light air drifter to the mix when the wind started to build. Soon we were taking reefs, shortening sails as the wind continued to build. By the time we reached our anchorage, the main was triple reefed and the genoa was furled. Rover got more time under sail yesterday than we've had on Quijote in weeks.
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Yesterday the weather forecast was calling for a sunny day and 10 knots of wind. Instead we got closer to thirty knots by the day's end. We started with a light breeze and all the sails up. Rover has a cutter rig so her working sails include a Genoa, stay sail and main. We were considering adding a light air drifter to the mix when the wind started to build. Soon we were taking reefs, shortening sails as the wind continued to build. By the time we reached our anchorage, the main was triple reefed and the genoa was furled. Rover got more time under sail yesterday than we've had on Quijote in weeks.
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Saturday, March 21, 2020
Farewell Quijote
Today was a busy day, but we got a lot done and finished the job of prepping the boat for storage. We had a minor panic when we arrived at the yard to find it locked up for the weekend. A security guy let us in (past the guard dogs) and called the owner who came down and administered our paperwork on his day off so we can leave tomorrow. We were thankful not to have to wait until Monday morning to get checked out.
After two days of hard work, Kay and I bid a sad farewell to Quijote then celebrated with drinks and dinner complements of Quijote. What a gal.
Tomorrow morning we set off with SV Rover on a three to six week passage to San Diego via Cabo San Lucas. I have to admit I didn't think I would find myself back in either place so soon. It'll be nice to settle into Rover's routines and see how Linda and Eric do things. I expect it to be an enjoyable learning experience.
After two days of hard work, Kay and I bid a sad farewell to Quijote then celebrated with drinks and dinner complements of Quijote. What a gal.
Tomorrow morning we set off with SV Rover on a three to six week passage to San Diego via Cabo San Lucas. I have to admit I didn't think I would find myself back in either place so soon. It'll be nice to settle into Rover's routines and see how Linda and Eric do things. I expect it to be an enjoyable learning experience.
Friday, March 20, 2020
Ready for weather
I feel so fortunate to have found the place that I did to take Quijote out of the water. We were shoehorned into the last available spot in a crowded lot. They didn't use a travel lift like most haul outs that I'm familiar with do; they winched it up onto a huge trailer and backed it into their dirt lot. It's crazy and the guy driving that truck is nothing short of amazing. We're placed within a couple inches of boats surrounding us in all directions.
With Quijote up on jacks, we spent the rest of the day preparing the boat for a hurricane. They haven't had one since 2014, and we probably wouldn't fare very well if they do get one, but we have to be ready for heavy weather and a lot of uv.
I pickled the watermaker with chemical to preserve the membrane, pulled halyards, removed the roller furling genoa, removed the wind generator turbine, dismounted the life raft, dismounted the anchor, serviced the anodes, etc. It was a busy day. But it's done and I feel relatively good about leaving her for a while. It's disappointing sure , but we're doing well with the hand that was dealt.
With Quijote up on jacks, we spent the rest of the day preparing the boat for a hurricane. They haven't had one since 2014, and we probably wouldn't fare very well if they do get one, but we have to be ready for heavy weather and a lot of uv.
I pickled the watermaker with chemical to preserve the membrane, pulled halyards, removed the roller furling genoa, removed the wind generator turbine, dismounted the life raft, dismounted the anchor, serviced the anodes, etc. It was a busy day. But it's done and I feel relatively good about leaving her for a while. It's disappointing sure , but we're doing well with the hand that was dealt.
Thursday, March 19, 2020
On the hard
Yesterday at this time we were still full speed ahead for the Marquesas. Kay and I (more K than I) were spending our time loading the boat with non-perishable foods. Then in quick succession it was announced that Tonga, then French Polynesia and finally New Zealand were all closing their boarders. If we cross the Pacific as planned we would find ourselves with nowhere to go.
Another consideration was having options if we did get sick, picking it up in PV while provisioning, but not showing symptoms until under way. The whole crew would soon be sick with no one to operate the boat and no medical services available. The decision quickly became easy.
After years of planning it has all been snatched away. But... So far we are in good health, so we can be thankful for that. Still, as ever there remains the question: what to do. For a short period of time I entertained the idea put forward by Eric and Linda on Rover: bash our way back up the coast to San Diego, then leave from there next year. There were several things about that option that were unattractive: losing ground, the upwind slog north, the uncertainty of fuel availability.
The idea that gained traction in my mind was pulling the boat out of the water in La Paz and leaving it in dry storage for the coming year. Afterward we'd have to travel home somehow. Then Rover offered to let us crew for the ride back to San Diego. That sounded even better: leave the boat in La Paz and ride to San Diego with Rover.
I set to work this morning and after some frustrating Spanish exchanges, finally located a boat yard with a lift that would give us space "on the hard."
The next challenge, after we arrive in San Diego, will be figuring out how to get to Seattle without subjecting ourselves to a flying petri dish. That's a decision that can wait a couple weeks.
Tuesday, March 17, 2020
Business as Usual
Wandering around this town, you'd never know there was a global contagion under way in other parts of the world. Restaurants are bristling with customers, people are shopping, tourists are touring. Life hasn't changed since we were last here. Kay and I walked along the Malecón to dinner last night. We split a huge calzone and enjoyed our first salads in a long time.
While salad in Mexico might sound like a risky proposition, La Paz's water supply is served by desalination plants and is then chlorinated. That makes it fairly safe to order salads and drinks with ice. Their emphasis on clean water has made their tourism industry thrive.
Lying in bed last night I began to think: just because there's no fear of contagion among the populous doesn't mean the city isn't infected with the virus. We should be a little smarter. I think each of us has had the same thought as we've all stuck to the boat today for most of the day. Kay did some provisioning and I worked with the laborers, but we'll be limiting our explosure from now on. I hope for two things
beyond good health: that French Polynesia will let us in. And that provisions will remain available. Fingers crossed.
Back on the grid
After contacting Marina de La Paz on Monday morning we were finally assigned a slip. Turns out we're in the same slip we vacated two months ago. Quijote is back in her old familiar spot. She spent the holidays here turning into a barnicle garden while the crew flew home.
As luck would have it, a diver was cleaning the hull on the boat next to us when we arrived. I asked him to do our hull when he finished with theirs, so that was a chore quickly dispatched. Even better it was half the price I was led to expect.
Another gentleman approached me to see if he could do some work for us. The hull below the toe rail and above the water line desperately needed waxing, so I asked him for a price to do that. Eighty dollars. Long pause. Each side. Pause. Your materials. We each had just enough of each other's language to muddle through a negotiation. In the end I paid him his eighty bucks, and a twenty four a tip, but for both sides with his materials, which is probably what we was angling for. Still, after sharing the effort of washing the boat with him beforehand, it took him and his son more than a couple hours to do the job and they did good work. Hence the tip. It was work I was glad not to have to do.
Monday, March 16, 2020
Sunday, March 15, 2020
We're back!
Arriving in La Paz, we called each marina in turn and were duely ignored. That was no surprise as this country is largely Catholic and it is Sunday. Thankfully we were able to shoehorn our way into the anchorage. After settling in, a gentleman in a ketch called over that we might have crossed our anchor rode over his. He was very friendly about it - hails from Prince Rupert. He'll be here "a while" though, so if we find a marina that will take us in the next day or two, we should be out of his way by the time he needs to pull his anchor up.
Another concern is that the current through this anchorage gets up to three knots back and forth as the tide ebbs and flows. Boats at anchor here do what they call the "La Paz Waltz." That's not a problem if they all Waltz together. So far they have, but we haven't been here long. As the wind and current have shifted over the last several hours, the ketch has moved from fifty yards abeam to a position thirty yards astern of us. That's closer than I'd like, but not so close as to make me move the anchor. Yet. Besides, if I give myself more room from him, I take away room from someone else. And that person might not be so friendly. The gentleman in the ketch might not be very friendly either if we remove paint from his hull. I just hope we don't find ourselves moving the anchor in the middle of the night. High tide comes at midnight, so it might be worth setting my alarm and poking my head up for a quick look around that time. Or maybe... it's a good time to delegate!
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Another concern is that the current through this anchorage gets up to three knots back and forth as the tide ebbs and flows. Boats at anchor here do what they call the "La Paz Waltz." That's not a problem if they all Waltz together. So far they have, but we haven't been here long. As the wind and current have shifted over the last several hours, the ketch has moved from fifty yards abeam to a position thirty yards astern of us. That's closer than I'd like, but not so close as to make me move the anchor. Yet. Besides, if I give myself more room from him, I take away room from someone else. And that person might not be so friendly. The gentleman in the ketch might not be very friendly either if we remove paint from his hull. I just hope we don't find ourselves moving the anchor in the middle of the night. High tide comes at midnight, so it might be worth setting my alarm and poking my head up for a quick look around that time. Or maybe... it's a good time to delegate!
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Saturday, March 14, 2020
Limbo
The reservations I made for the Marina in La Paz have been retracted. As of now they have no room for us. This is apparently because boats that were scheduled to leave have not done so. An alternate marina that I contacted also has no room.
Tomorrow is Sunday, so it's beginning to look like we're stuck in this anchorage, fifteen miles outside of La Paz for the weekend. That, or we'll have a go at anchoring off the marinas in La Paz. We haven't made a decision yet. The La Paz anchorage has a fair amount of current and boat traffic that will push us around. This anchorage is pretty buggy. Anchoring there would put us in position to take advantage of anything that opens up, but it will certainty be more noisy and less scenic. What to do.
We're hoping something will open up on Monday morning. Thankfully we have some wiggle room in our timing. We need to have the hull cleaned by a diver and we had hoped to get started on provisioning for the Pacific crossing that will commence in two weeks. We don't need to depart for Puerto Vallarta until the 22nd. If all goes according to plan, we'll arrive in PV on the 26th, meet Cody on the 30th, and start the passage to the Marquesas on April 1st.
Unfortunately for vessels crossing the Pacific via the Panama Canal, Panama has closed their marinas to foreign vessels. It isn't clear how those boats will get fresh water or provisions. The word is all ports of entry into Ecuador are also closed. I guess our challenges are mild by comparison. We hope.
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Tomorrow is Sunday, so it's beginning to look like we're stuck in this anchorage, fifteen miles outside of La Paz for the weekend. That, or we'll have a go at anchoring off the marinas in La Paz. We haven't made a decision yet. The La Paz anchorage has a fair amount of current and boat traffic that will push us around. This anchorage is pretty buggy. Anchoring there would put us in position to take advantage of anything that opens up, but it will certainty be more noisy and less scenic. What to do.
We're hoping something will open up on Monday morning. Thankfully we have some wiggle room in our timing. We need to have the hull cleaned by a diver and we had hoped to get started on provisioning for the Pacific crossing that will commence in two weeks. We don't need to depart for Puerto Vallarta until the 22nd. If all goes according to plan, we'll arrive in PV on the 26th, meet Cody on the 30th, and start the passage to the Marquesas on April 1st.
Unfortunately for vessels crossing the Pacific via the Panama Canal, Panama has closed their marinas to foreign vessels. It isn't clear how those boats will get fresh water or provisions. The word is all ports of entry into Ecuador are also closed. I guess our challenges are mild by comparison. We hope.
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Friday, March 13, 2020
Back to La Paz, Friendly farewells
We'll be back to life in the big city on Sunday. The wildlife appears to be sad to see us go. We've had some visitors drop by to wish us fond farewells. It started yesterday evening with a couple of cormorants perched on the upper spreaders. The boat was rocking in the wind, so it demanded as much flying as standing to perch themselves up there. I started by assuming they wouldn't stay long, but there they remained. Then I worried they'd outlive their welcome and poop all over the boat, giving new meaning (or not) to the term poopdeck. So I rattled the halyards and banged on the shrouds to raise their sense of discomfort, but it didn't faze them. I eventually gave up and was rewarded a few minutes later with a milky splat that ricocheted off the canvas dodger and onto the side of my face. The cheeky bastard couldn't have aimed it more perfectly. It was Kay who finally settled the matter by freeing the end of the spinnaker halyard and flipping it at their back sides.
This morning we were visited by a gull perched on the dinghy. He appeared to be as insistent on staying as the cormorants had been and quite intent on staring at us. He was a beautiful bird. When we saw bands on each of his legs, we postulated that maybe he has learned that being counted comes with being fed. Not wanting the dinghy to share the same fate as the dodger, or my face, we had an easier time chasing this visitor off.
A couple hours later we were visited by a young sea lion. I'd have pegged him for a seal, but Kay is certain there are no seals in the area. She's a lot more well read on the subject than I am, so a young sea lion it is. He was inquisitive and friendly, swimming circles around the boat, rubbing his back on the hull, showing us his belly, and posing with flipper touching his nose as though auditioning for Sea World.
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This morning we were visited by a gull perched on the dinghy. He appeared to be as insistent on staying as the cormorants had been and quite intent on staring at us. He was a beautiful bird. When we saw bands on each of his legs, we postulated that maybe he has learned that being counted comes with being fed. Not wanting the dinghy to share the same fate as the dodger, or my face, we had an easier time chasing this visitor off.
A couple hours later we were visited by a young sea lion. I'd have pegged him for a seal, but Kay is certain there are no seals in the area. She's a lot more well read on the subject than I am, so a young sea lion it is. He was inquisitive and friendly, swimming circles around the boat, rubbing his back on the hull, showing us his belly, and posing with flipper touching his nose as though auditioning for Sea World.
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Wednesday, March 11, 2020
Short Hopping
We've been short hopping our way down an island coast for a few days. Last night we tucked into a small one boat cove that was supposed to house blue footed boobies. We found the place where the chart indicated the rookery should be and even located the exact spot in the book where photos of the birds were taken, but sadly there were no boobies. There was good protection in that cove though, so even though the wind kicked up after dinner, we didn't get tossed around too much.
This morning we nosed our way around the corner into a larger cove, actually a slot between two Islands. Caleta Partida (Split Cove) has shoal water areas that the pelican love to fish in. I can hear them crashing into the water behind me as I write. There are fish camps around the perimeter of the cove, semi-permanent dwellings for local fishermen to use when they're out here doing their thing.
We'll have a lot more company tonight. There was a steady stream of boats heading out as we entered. There are only four boats in here at the moment, but the day is still young, so there is plenty of time for more boats to join in the fun latter this afternoon.
We're only a few hours out of La Paz with four days on our itinerary to get there, so for the next three days we'll continue our short hopping until it's time to go in and trade the scenery for showers and internet.
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This morning we nosed our way around the corner into a larger cove, actually a slot between two Islands. Caleta Partida (Split Cove) has shoal water areas that the pelican love to fish in. I can hear them crashing into the water behind me as I write. There are fish camps around the perimeter of the cove, semi-permanent dwellings for local fishermen to use when they're out here doing their thing.
We'll have a lot more company tonight. There was a steady stream of boats heading out as we entered. There are only four boats in here at the moment, but the day is still young, so there is plenty of time for more boats to join in the fun latter this afternoon.
We're only a few hours out of La Paz with four days on our itinerary to get there, so for the next three days we'll continue our short hopping until it's time to go in and trade the scenery for showers and internet.
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Monday, March 9, 2020
The tale of the breached breaches
The tale is truthfully about stained breaches, but what kind of a title would that be? An unseemly one for sure. 'Tis better to be unseamly.
We arrived at our new anchorage this morning and headed for shore, then split off in different directions to blow off our ya-yas. I hiked to the top of a ridge and got back to the dinghy shortly before the other two. While I waited the wind started to build, blowing across the bay. We were one of the first boats to arrive today, so that gave us pole position in the upwind corner of the bay. While changing out of our hiking shoes and into our beach shoes (the shoes we don't mind getting wet), we strategized about how best to get back to Quijote without being blown out into the San Jose channel. We decided to drag the dinghy along the shore to where we were upwind of the boat and let the breeze blow us back to the boat. We just didn't want to miss it. Kay speculated that we might not need to worry: if the wind blew the dinghy past the boat, maybe it would blow us to the other side of the bay. Then it would just be a matter of of hiking the dingy along the shore to the other side, where we could try again. I couldn't decide if that would be considered optimistic or not.
So we pulled the dinghy along the shore to the upwind corner. Of course the shore wasn't a white sandy beach along that stretch. That would be way too easy. No, it had to have super slick, round rocks covered in algae and barnicles. The dinghy faired better than I did, since I was holding on to the bow line while I hopped from rock to rock and the wind was blowing it off the rocks. For my part, all it took was one stumble and I found myself nursing a bloody gouge on my ankle. Ah well; it goes with the territory. As it turns out, we needn't have worried. Unnoticed in all the dinghy futzing, the wind died, so we were able to row back to the boat in relative calm.
Back on the boat I went to work cleaning my battle wound and ended up with half a bottle of iodine on my shorts. I guess yellow isn't the worst color stain, but it's unseemly enough.
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We arrived at our new anchorage this morning and headed for shore, then split off in different directions to blow off our ya-yas. I hiked to the top of a ridge and got back to the dinghy shortly before the other two. While I waited the wind started to build, blowing across the bay. We were one of the first boats to arrive today, so that gave us pole position in the upwind corner of the bay. While changing out of our hiking shoes and into our beach shoes (the shoes we don't mind getting wet), we strategized about how best to get back to Quijote without being blown out into the San Jose channel. We decided to drag the dinghy along the shore to where we were upwind of the boat and let the breeze blow us back to the boat. We just didn't want to miss it. Kay speculated that we might not need to worry: if the wind blew the dinghy past the boat, maybe it would blow us to the other side of the bay. Then it would just be a matter of of hiking the dingy along the shore to the other side, where we could try again. I couldn't decide if that would be considered optimistic or not.
So we pulled the dinghy along the shore to the upwind corner. Of course the shore wasn't a white sandy beach along that stretch. That would be way too easy. No, it had to have super slick, round rocks covered in algae and barnicles. The dinghy faired better than I did, since I was holding on to the bow line while I hopped from rock to rock and the wind was blowing it off the rocks. For my part, all it took was one stumble and I found myself nursing a bloody gouge on my ankle. Ah well; it goes with the territory. As it turns out, we needn't have worried. Unnoticed in all the dinghy futzing, the wind died, so we were able to row back to the boat in relative calm.
Back on the boat I went to work cleaning my battle wound and ended up with half a bottle of iodine on my shorts. I guess yellow isn't the worst color stain, but it's unseemly enough.
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Sunday, March 8, 2020
Feasting on fish
We're back in San Evaristo for a couple of nights. The village seems to serve as a hub for the local fishermen to offload their catch for shipment to market, presumably in La Paz. Pangas (we would call them skiffs) power into the bay at the end of the day from who knows where and add themselves to the crowd of people on shore and then speed away again.
It doesn't seem to matter to them if they come and go after dark with no lights on their boats. It doesn't even slow them down. It's not like they would be able to hear another boat coming in the opposite direction over the sound of their own motor. Why wouldn't they be more concerned about the possibility of running into someone? Maybe they can see better than I can. I know they can see better than I can. It must be good enough.
Petar has proven himself to be proficient at negotiating on our behalf for fresh fish in that melee. And Kay has done an awesome job preparing the results of his efforts. I help with the eating and I do a fine job of it if I do say so myself.
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It doesn't seem to matter to them if they come and go after dark with no lights on their boats. It doesn't even slow them down. It's not like they would be able to hear another boat coming in the opposite direction over the sound of their own motor. Why wouldn't they be more concerned about the possibility of running into someone? Maybe they can see better than I can. I know they can see better than I can. It must be good enough.
Petar has proven himself to be proficient at negotiating on our behalf for fresh fish in that melee. And Kay has done an awesome job preparing the results of his efforts. I help with the eating and I do a fine job of it if I do say so myself.
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Friday, March 6, 2020
Raining somewhere
We're in an anchorage that's somewhat exposed tonight; here because it's one we didn't visit on our way north and because the wind will be somewhere else tonight. Or so they say.
It's a spot they call Mangle Solo (Mangrove Alone). I'm not sure what that means, but maybe there was a Mangrove here at one time that has since died of a broken heart. There is a lagoon across the spit and where there's a lagoon there is usually a Mangrove.
We got sprinkled on today for the second time in six weeks. They don't get a lot of rain around here - at least not at this time of year. We saw lightning in the distance, so it's raining somewhere.
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It's a spot they call Mangle Solo (Mangrove Alone). I'm not sure what that means, but maybe there was a Mangrove here at one time that has since died of a broken heart. There is a lagoon across the spit and where there's a lagoon there is usually a Mangrove.
We got sprinkled on today for the second time in six weeks. They don't get a lot of rain around here - at least not at this time of year. We saw lightning in the distance, so it's raining somewhere.
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Wednesday, March 4, 2020
Questions
We didn't travel far today - a whopping two miles south around the corner to Puerta Los Gatos. There is only one other boat in here so far. They're a Canadian couple from Victoria who visit their boat in Baja every year. There seems to be a lot of that. Folks pull their boat out of the water when it gets too hot or hurricanes become more likely, and fly home. The Canadians motored their dinghy over for a chat.
The virus that's been in the news was front and center in their minds, especially when they heard we're from Seattle. They filled us in on the impact on nursing homes in the Seattle area, but couldn't tell us much otherwise. There must be a lot going on in the world that we've been oblivious to. Maybe that's just as well. Maybe not.
On Quijote we talked about the virus and our special case of self imposed quarantine, a quarantine that will be broken periodically as we go ashore and as we are joined by new crew. We wondered what precautions we should take. We wondered if many countries will require airlines to turn away passengers that don't meet requirements for medical checks. Our agent tells us French Polynesia is requiring such a check within five days of crew flying in to meet us. We wondered what good it would do if the virus were contracted within that five days, or if the virus has already made its way throughout the global transport network, including French Polynesia. We agreed we had a lot of questions we wouldn't be able to answer for a while, perhaps mirroring discussions in homes around the world.
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The virus that's been in the news was front and center in their minds, especially when they heard we're from Seattle. They filled us in on the impact on nursing homes in the Seattle area, but couldn't tell us much otherwise. There must be a lot going on in the world that we've been oblivious to. Maybe that's just as well. Maybe not.
On Quijote we talked about the virus and our special case of self imposed quarantine, a quarantine that will be broken periodically as we go ashore and as we are joined by new crew. We wondered what precautions we should take. We wondered if many countries will require airlines to turn away passengers that don't meet requirements for medical checks. Our agent tells us French Polynesia is requiring such a check within five days of crew flying in to meet us. We wondered what good it would do if the virus were contracted within that five days, or if the virus has already made its way throughout the global transport network, including French Polynesia. We agreed we had a lot of questions we wouldn't be able to answer for a while, perhaps mirroring discussions in homes around the world.
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Tuesday, March 3, 2020
A sunny, windy day
If I was out on Puget Sound, sunny and windy would sound exhilarating. Maybe it should sound that way here too, but instead it felt challenging. We woke to 32 knot gusts, with the wind generator having a conniption, screaming away hour after hour in the predawn hours before the sun came up. The boat was rocking about and various lines, buckets, and paddle boards were banging away to raise the dead. I checked the anchor alarm on my phone periodically to make sure we weren't going anywhere and then snuggled into my bag to defy the chaos and get a few more minutes of sleep. As if.
At 8 am there was no wind at all. The anchorage was like glass, so we ate some breakfast and pulled anchor. Part way toward the next stop, the wind picked up again and started blowing with its previous fury. First it blew from the bow, then from behind. One minute it was thirty knots, the next three. I've experienced abrupt wind changes, but none so continually abrupt. As I said to Kay: I wouldn't want to have to race in these conditions.
It was only a couple hours to the next anchorage, so I never did feel comfortable enough to break out the sails. Patar accused me of being a caravan sailor. Caravan is the European word for camper or RV. I had to agree: I'm more cruiser than racer, especially in those conditions.
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At 8 am there was no wind at all. The anchorage was like glass, so we ate some breakfast and pulled anchor. Part way toward the next stop, the wind picked up again and started blowing with its previous fury. First it blew from the bow, then from behind. One minute it was thirty knots, the next three. I've experienced abrupt wind changes, but none so continually abrupt. As I said to Kay: I wouldn't want to have to race in these conditions.
It was only a couple hours to the next anchorage, so I never did feel comfortable enough to break out the sails. Patar accused me of being a caravan sailor. Caravan is the European word for camper or RV. I had to agree: I'm more cruiser than racer, especially in those conditions.
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Monday, March 2, 2020
For the birds
We're in a new anchorage tonight - new in that we didn't stop here on our way north. That's as opposed to last night, where we repeated ourselves and spent two nights in Bahia Agua Verde again because, well... it's a pleasant place to stay for a couple of nights. Truthfully all the anchorages are nice, but some give better protection from the prevailing northerlies, some offer more in the way of recreational opportunities, and some have more wildlife to spy on. Bahia San Marte, where we are tonight, is one of the latter. It's loaded with birds.
When we arrived we noticed a small fishing vessel pulled up onto the beach. We couldn't see what he was up to, but we guessed he was cleaning his catch and heard latter that he was butchering a large mantaray (a species off limits for fishing). By the time Kay and I had mounted our paddle boards, the fishermen we're on their way out and the birds were on their way in. There were hundreds of them: gulls, vultures, pelicans, cormorants and others. They were having a feast on the fish detritus and making quite a racket. We left them to it.
While we're on the subject of bird watching, let's list our conquests so far. I'm no bird watcher, but Kay has a memory for such things that's matched only by her eyesight. Petar has good eyes too. Those two can identify with naked eyes, birds that I need binoculars just to find.
We've seen: yellow footed gull, Anna's humming bird, osprey, great blue heron, raven, crow, brown boobie, crested caracara, snowy egret, great egret, brown pelican, cormorant, belted kingfisher, greater roadrunner, magnificent frigate, turkey vulture, black crowned night heron, yellow crowned night heron, great blue heron, American oyster catcher, common tern, heermann's gull.
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When we arrived we noticed a small fishing vessel pulled up onto the beach. We couldn't see what he was up to, but we guessed he was cleaning his catch and heard latter that he was butchering a large mantaray (a species off limits for fishing). By the time Kay and I had mounted our paddle boards, the fishermen we're on their way out and the birds were on their way in. There were hundreds of them: gulls, vultures, pelicans, cormorants and others. They were having a feast on the fish detritus and making quite a racket. We left them to it.
While we're on the subject of bird watching, let's list our conquests so far. I'm no bird watcher, but Kay has a memory for such things that's matched only by her eyesight. Petar has good eyes too. Those two can identify with naked eyes, birds that I need binoculars just to find.
We've seen: yellow footed gull, Anna's humming bird, osprey, great blue heron, raven, crow, brown boobie, crested caracara, snowy egret, great egret, brown pelican, cormorant, belted kingfisher, greater roadrunner, magnificent frigate, turkey vulture, black crowned night heron, yellow crowned night heron, great blue heron, American oyster catcher, common tern, heermann's gull.
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