We have been back in La Cruz for a few days but leave tomorrow for Mazatlan, so not much time for a good blog post!
We left Manzanillo, stopping in Santiago and then El Carrizal to do some snorkeling with Ernie on Morgana and Jo and Rob on Blue Moon. Our next stop was just north of Barra at Melaque. We had a good sail there with light head winds, arriving near Blue Moon just as darkness fell. The next day we celebrated St Patrick´s day a day early with fireworks, bands, and a fun fair. This was the ninth day of celebrations for this feast day (Santa Patricio) and the partying went on until 6am when the last fireworks were let off. Not sure how the locals and visitors keep this up for 10 days!
The sail north was pleasant on the whole but with a lot of beating to get around Cabo Corrientes into Banderas Bay. By a crazy coincidence we met a friend from Canada (Chad) who happened to be surfing nearby for a week and dropped by the marina to use the washrooms after getting lost. We visited Puerto Vallarta with Chad and then took him sailing for my birthday (yesterday) out to the Marieta islands where we snorkeled and drank and ate to excess - a great birthday!
More on the Melaque celebrations and some pics in another post.
Thursday, March 25, 2010
Saturday, March 13, 2010
Manzanillo – Sailfish, Tsunamis, and Sushi
Note there is actually no sushi in this post - it just sounded good in the title...
It is hard to believe we have been in Manzanillo for over two weeks, anchored for the most part off Las Hadas resort where the movie, Ten, with Dudley Moore and Bo Derek was filmed. The anchorage here has been quite lively with up to 25 boats closely packed behind the resort's breakwater.
Las Hadas anchorage
Las Hadas resort from the anchorage
We sailed down from Tenacatita to Carrizal anchorage at the entrance to Manzanillo Bay with very light winds, passing Bara de Navidad in the early afternoon and the Manzanillo airport around supper. The wind died completely as the sun set and we motored the last two hours intoCarrizal, anchoring in the dark near the sailing boat, Lovely Rita, the only other occupant of this remote anchorage.
City of Manzanillo from mirador
Rani & Chris in front of sailfish - Manzanillo claims to be the sailfish capitol of the world
The next day, a big southerly swell made the anchorage too rocky to linger, so we sailed to Las Hadas, where our friends Marv and Ardy were anchored along with another 20 or so boats. We spent the next day in downtown Manzanillo, taking the inexpensive (6 peso) bus and visiting the famous sailfish statue, and a surprising veggie cafe for lunch. Much of the town climbs up hills overlooking the port on one side and a massive coal fired power plant on another. We climbed up through the winding stairs to a viewpoint and down the other side to a volcanic sand beach before retracing our steps and returning to the anchorage. That night we walked out to the main street (a strenuous journey over winding cobble stoned streets) to watch the Carnival parade.
Someone appears to live in this tiny makeshift beach shelter.
Chinese float in Carnival parade
Carnival dancer
Another nicely decorated dancer
The parade reminded us of the one we had seen in Guaymas a year earlier. The recipe for success in this one was to find the largest flatbed truck possible, fit it out with a sound system appropriate for a Rolling Stones concert, decorate it with something colourful, and persuade at least a half dozen very scantily clad young women to dance provocatively amongst the decorations. Some floats had themes beyond this, including a Gold's Gym float with well built scantily clad men, a couple of transvestite floats, and a Chinese one.
Gold's gym float.
By coincidence we bumped into the only person I know in Manzanillo at the parade. Dave Wilkinson is a neighbor from Esquimalt who has a winter home in Santiago, just outside Manzanillo. We had planned to hook up via email, but for some odd reason we ended up in the same location on the crowded 3 mile long parade route that night. Over the next couple of weeks we visited Dave and later his family (Katie and daughters Mariah and Rebecca who flew in a few days later) at their beach front home. in addition to entertaining us, they were kind enough to let us use their shower and do laundry – luxuries highly valued by water-starved cruisers.
Chris and Dave returning from a body surfing expedition.
Dave was in the process of building a home on an adjacent lot to use as a vacation rental property and the excavation for the foundations was just getting underway when we arrived. There were no clearances between the building lot, Dave's driveway, and the neighbor's house, so needless to say there were a few tense moments over the next few days as the hole grew deeper and Dave worked out ways to ensure that the neighbor's house and his own driveway did not end up in the pit. So far he has been successful with the house, but much of the driveway will need to be replaced. The foundation pour begins today.
Rebecca and Dave barbecuing vegetables & shrimp - yum.
During Dave's bachelor days, we sailed over one day and anchored off his surfy beach, kayaking in with a boat-cooked lunch. We nearly capsized in one wave, and then forgot a sauce pan and had to paddle back out through the surf, getting soaked in the process. After lunch Dave and I went for a swim and he showed me how to body surf. The waves here can get pretty big and we had a few good runs, although I got pretty badly dumped when a wave curled on top of me, twisting my body like a licorice twizzler and pile driving my head into the sand.
Chris, Rebecca, and Katie in their lovely beach front home in Santiago
Apart from visiting with Dave and Katie, we have been enjoying the facilities at Las Hadas, especially the great pool. This resort, which literally means 'The Fairies', is a beautifully built series of wings and towers overlooking the anchorage. There are private pools in many suites and charming lanes and alleys connect the various wings. Each tower is different and built in a fanciful style. There are sculptures of winged fairies and gargoyles, and mosaic walkways wind between the buildings. The place seemed quite empty however, perhaps reflecting a downturn in tourism, but more likely because the prices are a bit steep here (the nearby more family-oriented Karmina Palace appeared to be quite full). If I had heaps of money this would be a fun place to have a wedding.
The pools at Las Hadas
Enjoying the pool.
Jo and Rob enjoying the pool.
We also had a tsunami scare here shortly after arriving. All boats but one left the anchorage and motored out into deep water after a major earthquake struck Chile. We received two hours warning before the tsunami was expected to reach Manzanillo. It was a bit of an anti climax, with the water rising only a few inches, imperceptible to all but the most careful observer.
Blue Moon arrived a few days after we did and we have spent some pleasant evenings with Jo and Rob and with two new friends on the steel sailboat, Blue Bottle (named for a character in BBC radio's vintage Goon Show). Joe on Blue Bottle is an accomplished Ukelele, Banjo, and Guitar player and we all had great fun trying to play each other's music on our assortment of stringed and wind instruments. Adrienne, Joe's other half, joined in on vocals, and Rob and Rani rounded out the percussion section.
Jamming on Blue Moon with Rob and Jo.
The following video features sailors/musicians Joe Blake, Chris Bennett and Jo Woollacott playing banjo, ukelele and guitar aboard sv Blue Moon. Vocals, percussion and monkey impressions gamely provided by Adrienne, Ernie, Rob and Rani. The Monkey Song or " When You Grow Old " is one of Rani's favourites and we thank Joe Blake for sharing it with us.
The following video features sailors/musicians Joe Blake, Chris Bennett and Jo Woollacott playing banjo, ukelele and guitar aboard sv Blue Moon. Vocals, percussion and monkey impressions gamely provided by Adrienne, Ernie, Rob and Rani. The Monkey Song or " When You Grow Old " is one of Rani's favourites and we thank Joe Blake for sharing it with us.
Ukelele maestro, Joe from Blue Bottle. Ernie Kruell from Morgana, whom we first met in Coos Bay on our way down to Mexico is in the background
Chris tunes up his uke with Adrienne from Blue Bottle ready to join in the next song.
Sadly all good things must end. Blue Bottle is off across the Pacific, while Blue Moon heads for El Salvador, and Ladybug returns to the Sea of Cortez for another season. We leave today to begin our trip north.
Wednesday, March 10, 2010
Chamela to Tenacatita
The scene here is quite domestic. Rani is mending one of our back packs whose strap was parting from a recent grocery overload here in Manzanillo. She reminds me that we are well behind in our blog and that it is my turn, so here are so1me ramblings about our trip to and stay in Tenacatita.
From Chamela we sailed with light following winds toward Tenacatita. As the winds dropped I poled out the jib on the opposite side to the main to keep us ghosting along over smooth seas. Around noon we were joined by a pod of speckled dolphins and a few minutes later we drew level whith what looked like a huge metal collander – perhaps 80 feet across and 50 feet high. A ramp led up to the rim of this structure, which rested directly on the ground. It reminded Rani of an alien spaceship that had already disgorged its occupants but we still have no idea what it is. Other cruisers we asked later were equally puzzled. The wind built as the afternoon wore on and we were soon making a solid 5+ knots as we approached Bahia Tenacatita. The radio crackled to life on channel 22 and we heard boats hailing each other and announcements for a 'swim to shore', bacci ball, and beach volleyball. We both looked at each other, not sure whether we were keen on what sounded like a resort atmosphere after the peace and wildness of Chamela.
We dropped the pole and rounded into the bay with 10-15 knots behind us and then on our beam. At the entrance, surf was breaking on the offlying rocks and a long palapa-lined beach came into view just inside the point. This outer anchorage was empty and looked a bit rolly, so we continued past Punta Chubasco. We sailed into the crowded bay, tacking between boats, with Rani making nervous noises as we passed behind one boat and in front of another. We anchored in about 30 feet over a sand bottom off another beach.
View from the boat over the reef to the river mouth at Tenacatita.
After we dropped the hook, we noticed that our friends on Third Day and Blue Moon were already anchored in this busy anchorage. Blue Moon had left Banderas Bay well before us and had an uneventful passage but Third had passed us while we were in Chamela. There had been a huge rain squall with lightning and high winds while we were anchored in Chamela. The rain had been torrential and Rani said it reminded her of Monsoon rains in India. At sea, two boats nearby had been struck by lightning, one losing most of its electronics. Third Day had been caught with her sails up and the gusty winds tore out several seams in their main. Later we discovered that our friends on Castaway, whom we had last seen in Oregon in 2008, had also passed us going north while we were anchored in Chamela. They had also narrowly missed colliding with Third Day during the storm because the visibility was so poor.
Anchorage viewed from the river.
One of the highlights of our stay in Tenacatita was a trip up the river to the little town that lies along the outer beach (the so-called jungle cruise). The day after we arrived, we paddled up the river against a light outflowing current. The entrance to the river is blocked by a bar, but we were able to negotiate this by passing through a break in the offlying reef, carefully threading our way between lumps of volcanic rock. Near the mouth the river is wide with gentle sand banks and colourful trees blooming with pink and yellow blossoms. Pelicans, egrets, and herons sat in the trees and we saw some large fish in the murky waters. There are supposed to be crocodiles in the river but we saw none.
Ibis near the river mouth
Further up the river, the mangroves close in and form an arch over the water that blocks out much of the sky. The mangroves have been hacked back in these places so that pangas can negotiate the stream from the village at its headwaters. As we paddled along, our friends on Third Day motored past us returning from the other end and we had to pull to the side to make way for two pangas – one with tourists and one with fisherman bound upstream. In the roots of the mangroves, white and red crabs skuttled and occasionally we would hear the cry of some invisible bird deeper into the swamps that lie on each side of the river. We could also hear the surf on the outer beach long before we reached the headwaters because the river parallels this beach for over a miile.
Cruisers returning from the jungle cruise.
At the headwaters, the river widens into a small lake and we pulled our kayak up onto an embankment near a hotel. We walked into the town, stopping at one of the many palapas on the beach for ice cold cervezas and a complimentary plate of highly salted, chili and lime covered cucumber slices with orange slices on the side – delicious, but a definite inducement to more drinking! Slightly tipsy, we ambled along the lovely beach past Mexican children playing in the sand. At the end of the beach, we climbed carefully over the sharp volcanic rocks and scattered coral fragments rounding a headland to another beach. This one has a coral reef nicknamed 'the aquarium' and has good snorkeling. Trailers were parked on the hard packed sand above the beach and we saw several Canadian flags fying from what were clearly long term camp spots. Just past this beach and across the road, the ocean was pounding on an exposed outer beach. The wind was gusting to at least 20 knots and we were grateful for our protected anchorage at the river's mouth.
Mangroves closing in.
We walked back into town, pausing for a brief swim. On the main street, we bought some fresh vegetables and fruit at a well stocked and reasonably priced tienda – ripe delicious tomatoes for 30 cents a kilogram, tiny crisp cucumbers, and juicy, scented guavas. The paddle back down the river was also against a slight tidal current and we were ready for supper and a good sleep when we finally arrived back at Ladybug.
Panga landing at the headwaters.
Mangrove shrouded waters.
Beach at the entrance to Tenacatita Bay
We soon fell into the sociable and relaxed routines of Tenacatita, with its dailiy volleyball games, bacci ball, and beach walks. We met some new cruising families including several with young children. Rani enjoyed playing with the kids and I caught her more than once with a wistful look on her face. One evening we paddled over to 'Isis' with our ukelele and had a jam session with Jo and Rob and their friend, Birke, who sails the 35 foot Isis with his wife Casey and their four year old son Quinn. Birke is an accomplished mandolin player with a great blue grass voice and the combo of his mandolin, Jo's guitar, my uke, various noise makers and all our voices made for one of the best musical evenings I have ever experienced.
Many people stay in Tenacatita for weeks and we could now see why, but we felt restless and wanted to make some progress to Manzanillo where my friend Dave Wilkinson was expecting us, so a few days later we sailed out the anchor and pointed Ladybug's bow out through the fleet toward the open waters of the Pacific.
From Chamela we sailed with light following winds toward Tenacatita. As the winds dropped I poled out the jib on the opposite side to the main to keep us ghosting along over smooth seas. Around noon we were joined by a pod of speckled dolphins and a few minutes later we drew level whith what looked like a huge metal collander – perhaps 80 feet across and 50 feet high. A ramp led up to the rim of this structure, which rested directly on the ground. It reminded Rani of an alien spaceship that had already disgorged its occupants but we still have no idea what it is. Other cruisers we asked later were equally puzzled. The wind built as the afternoon wore on and we were soon making a solid 5+ knots as we approached Bahia Tenacatita. The radio crackled to life on channel 22 and we heard boats hailing each other and announcements for a 'swim to shore', bacci ball, and beach volleyball. We both looked at each other, not sure whether we were keen on what sounded like a resort atmosphere after the peace and wildness of Chamela.
We dropped the pole and rounded into the bay with 10-15 knots behind us and then on our beam. At the entrance, surf was breaking on the offlying rocks and a long palapa-lined beach came into view just inside the point. This outer anchorage was empty and looked a bit rolly, so we continued past Punta Chubasco. We sailed into the crowded bay, tacking between boats, with Rani making nervous noises as we passed behind one boat and in front of another. We anchored in about 30 feet over a sand bottom off another beach.
View from the boat over the reef to the river mouth at Tenacatita.
After we dropped the hook, we noticed that our friends on Third Day and Blue Moon were already anchored in this busy anchorage. Blue Moon had left Banderas Bay well before us and had an uneventful passage but Third had passed us while we were in Chamela. There had been a huge rain squall with lightning and high winds while we were anchored in Chamela. The rain had been torrential and Rani said it reminded her of Monsoon rains in India. At sea, two boats nearby had been struck by lightning, one losing most of its electronics. Third Day had been caught with her sails up and the gusty winds tore out several seams in their main. Later we discovered that our friends on Castaway, whom we had last seen in Oregon in 2008, had also passed us going north while we were anchored in Chamela. They had also narrowly missed colliding with Third Day during the storm because the visibility was so poor.
Anchorage viewed from the river.
One of the highlights of our stay in Tenacatita was a trip up the river to the little town that lies along the outer beach (the so-called jungle cruise). The day after we arrived, we paddled up the river against a light outflowing current. The entrance to the river is blocked by a bar, but we were able to negotiate this by passing through a break in the offlying reef, carefully threading our way between lumps of volcanic rock. Near the mouth the river is wide with gentle sand banks and colourful trees blooming with pink and yellow blossoms. Pelicans, egrets, and herons sat in the trees and we saw some large fish in the murky waters. There are supposed to be crocodiles in the river but we saw none.
Ibis near the river mouth
Further up the river, the mangroves close in and form an arch over the water that blocks out much of the sky. The mangroves have been hacked back in these places so that pangas can negotiate the stream from the village at its headwaters. As we paddled along, our friends on Third Day motored past us returning from the other end and we had to pull to the side to make way for two pangas – one with tourists and one with fisherman bound upstream. In the roots of the mangroves, white and red crabs skuttled and occasionally we would hear the cry of some invisible bird deeper into the swamps that lie on each side of the river. We could also hear the surf on the outer beach long before we reached the headwaters because the river parallels this beach for over a miile.
Cruisers returning from the jungle cruise.
At the headwaters, the river widens into a small lake and we pulled our kayak up onto an embankment near a hotel. We walked into the town, stopping at one of the many palapas on the beach for ice cold cervezas and a complimentary plate of highly salted, chili and lime covered cucumber slices with orange slices on the side – delicious, but a definite inducement to more drinking! Slightly tipsy, we ambled along the lovely beach past Mexican children playing in the sand. At the end of the beach, we climbed carefully over the sharp volcanic rocks and scattered coral fragments rounding a headland to another beach. This one has a coral reef nicknamed 'the aquarium' and has good snorkeling. Trailers were parked on the hard packed sand above the beach and we saw several Canadian flags fying from what were clearly long term camp spots. Just past this beach and across the road, the ocean was pounding on an exposed outer beach. The wind was gusting to at least 20 knots and we were grateful for our protected anchorage at the river's mouth.
Mangroves closing in.
We walked back into town, pausing for a brief swim. On the main street, we bought some fresh vegetables and fruit at a well stocked and reasonably priced tienda – ripe delicious tomatoes for 30 cents a kilogram, tiny crisp cucumbers, and juicy, scented guavas. The paddle back down the river was also against a slight tidal current and we were ready for supper and a good sleep when we finally arrived back at Ladybug.
Panga landing at the headwaters.
Mangrove shrouded waters.
Beach at the entrance to Tenacatita Bay
We soon fell into the sociable and relaxed routines of Tenacatita, with its dailiy volleyball games, bacci ball, and beach walks. We met some new cruising families including several with young children. Rani enjoyed playing with the kids and I caught her more than once with a wistful look on her face. One evening we paddled over to 'Isis' with our ukelele and had a jam session with Jo and Rob and their friend, Birke, who sails the 35 foot Isis with his wife Casey and their four year old son Quinn. Birke is an accomplished mandolin player with a great blue grass voice and the combo of his mandolin, Jo's guitar, my uke, various noise makers and all our voices made for one of the best musical evenings I have ever experienced.
Many people stay in Tenacatita for weeks and we could now see why, but we felt restless and wanted to make some progress to Manzanillo where my friend Dave Wilkinson was expecting us, so a few days later we sailed out the anchor and pointed Ladybug's bow out through the fleet toward the open waters of the Pacific.
Friday, March 5, 2010
La Cruz to Chamala
In case anyone reading our blog thinks that all our days are full of sunshine and fun, here is a little account of one of our tougher passages...
I guess we should have paid more attention to the unsettled weather systems in the area before leaving La Cruz for parts south. The predominant wind direction at this time of year is from the north and we expected light winds from that direction when we set off for Cabo Corrientes. Corrientes is yet another 'Cape Horn', this time the Cape Horn of the Mexican Riviera. Hence we were advised by other cruisers and guide books to pass the cape late at night or early in the morning to avoid strong winds. Because the winds were light and we were impatient we left early in the morning, which should have put us off the cape around supper time or in the early evening.
Relaxing in the cockpit.
We ghosted across Banderas bay in a light 3-4 knot south east windcoming off the land. e had up our usual full main and jib. Remnants of a pineapple express (a tropical weather system) were still in the area, cloaking the mountains around the bay in moisture laden clouds. In the distance we soon saw whales spouting and gradually drew closer to what proved to be a pod of 5 humpback whales feeding near the surface. Whale watching boats were crowding the poor giants forcing them to dive deep more often than they would have liked. I was frustrated with the watcher's behaviour but envious of how close they were to these impressive creatures.
Whales and watchers
By lunchtime a nice westerly sea breeze had Ladybug moving briskly at 5 knots and for a while we had a pod of bottle nose dolphins playing alongside. Ten miles north east of the cape the wind dropped to a couple of knots and we slowed to a crawl, wallowing uneasily in the big ocean swells. We waited patiently for the 'cape effect' to give us a nice breeze, but the wind continued light and the current was running against us now. Finally Chris broke down and turned on the engine and we motored for a couple of hours before he reached is limit and tried to set sail again. The wind was too light to move us, so we struck all sail and lay bobbing in the swells off the cape around 9pm.
The captain told me to get some sleep while he stood watch. At 11:30 pm, I heard him moving about on deck and sure enough, he was trying to sail again in 3-4 knots of wind behind us from the east with a jib held out by our aluminum reaching pole – the guy never gives up!
By 1 am we were only 6 nautical miles past the cape. Both of us were on deck, searching the sky and wondering if the approaching dark clouds were friends or foes. Soon several squalls bringing rain but little wind passed over the boat. Chris took down the pole and put up the mainsail as the wind built to 15 knots. Behind us, we could see lightening in the hills above Banderas Bay. The seas began to build, reaching six foot swells with a two foot chop and I ducked below to take a Gravol.
By dawn we were exhausted from the sail changes and we discussed anchoring in Ipala, a cove that lies 13 miles south of Cabo Corrientes, but as we neared the anchorage, we could see it filled by surf and big swells with no sign of anchored boats. So we pressed on toward Chamela, resigning ourselves to another night at sea or a night time entry. At 8:15 we listened to the weather forecast on our shortwave radio, hearing that we were experiencing light winds from the north. The actual conditions were averaging 15 to 20 knots from the south east, right on the nose and all that day we beat into unpleasantly sharp seas, heeled over from between 15 to 25 degrees. We had another 50 miles to go and tacking would add at least 50 percent to that distance. Because of the rough seas and head winds, we could only make at best 4-5 knots. We reefed down the main and furled half of the jib. When the wind rose, the wind vane had trouble steering in the sloppy seas, so we took turns hand steering in order to make better progress.
Our 'inclinometer' - gimbaled stove with curry.
By midday the wind was gusting to 25 knots with the occasional squall. For the rest of daylight hours, the wind rose and fell, requiring us to make frequent changes to the sails, shaking out and putting in reefs in the main and furling and unfurling the jib. We tried to fly the stay sail – the small sail that a cutter has inside the jib, but found that on its own it was too small to give us much progress to windward.
We saw a few boats heading north, enjoying the boisterous following wind. Using our VHF, we made contact with Neil on SV Moondance, en route to La Cruz, who gave us some suggestions for anchoring in Chamela. We also encountered a number of trawlers – large rusty fishing boats that seemed to take a special delight in coming close enough to scare the pants of a gringo sailor! At one point near dusk, we tried to raise a trawler which was on a collision course with us using our VHF but were not able to make contact, so Chris got on deck with a flashlight to show him where we were.
By 2 am the next day we were both exhausted from the continuous pounding and sail changes, so we heaved Ladybug to under double reefed main. We left her jogging along at one or two knots about 60 degrees off the wind and we went below to get some sleep. Up around 4 am, we set all sail and made a little progress toward Chamela, but the wind died out at 5:30 and we gave in and fired up the engine. Three hours later we dropped our anchor in a little sandy cove off Isla Passavera near the village of Chamela and fell into a deep sleep.
Later we washed the sleep from our bodies in the warm clear waters off the island, following large schools of colourful fish as they swum along the rocky shores at the edges of the cove. The island reminded me of a tiny version of Isla Isabela, with nesting frigates, boobies circling above, and pelicans perched on guano covered treetops and cacti. Every inch was covered in bushes and vines of all shapes, sizes and shades of green.
We re-anchored that afternoon off Colorado Island when a southerly wind made our anchorage uncomfortable. The next day we inflated our kayak and paddled around Colorado island, landing on a lovely hidden sand beach on the southwest side. On the north side we paddled by another elephant shaped rock, bringing us fond memories of our visit up north in the Sea of Cortez to Catalina Island.
Our next destination would be Tenacatita, about 25 or 30 miles south.
I guess we should have paid more attention to the unsettled weather systems in the area before leaving La Cruz for parts south. The predominant wind direction at this time of year is from the north and we expected light winds from that direction when we set off for Cabo Corrientes. Corrientes is yet another 'Cape Horn', this time the Cape Horn of the Mexican Riviera. Hence we were advised by other cruisers and guide books to pass the cape late at night or early in the morning to avoid strong winds. Because the winds were light and we were impatient we left early in the morning, which should have put us off the cape around supper time or in the early evening.
Relaxing in the cockpit.
We ghosted across Banderas bay in a light 3-4 knot south east windcoming off the land. e had up our usual full main and jib. Remnants of a pineapple express (a tropical weather system) were still in the area, cloaking the mountains around the bay in moisture laden clouds. In the distance we soon saw whales spouting and gradually drew closer to what proved to be a pod of 5 humpback whales feeding near the surface. Whale watching boats were crowding the poor giants forcing them to dive deep more often than they would have liked. I was frustrated with the watcher's behaviour but envious of how close they were to these impressive creatures.
Whales and watchers
By lunchtime a nice westerly sea breeze had Ladybug moving briskly at 5 knots and for a while we had a pod of bottle nose dolphins playing alongside. Ten miles north east of the cape the wind dropped to a couple of knots and we slowed to a crawl, wallowing uneasily in the big ocean swells. We waited patiently for the 'cape effect' to give us a nice breeze, but the wind continued light and the current was running against us now. Finally Chris broke down and turned on the engine and we motored for a couple of hours before he reached is limit and tried to set sail again. The wind was too light to move us, so we struck all sail and lay bobbing in the swells off the cape around 9pm.
The captain told me to get some sleep while he stood watch. At 11:30 pm, I heard him moving about on deck and sure enough, he was trying to sail again in 3-4 knots of wind behind us from the east with a jib held out by our aluminum reaching pole – the guy never gives up!
By 1 am we were only 6 nautical miles past the cape. Both of us were on deck, searching the sky and wondering if the approaching dark clouds were friends or foes. Soon several squalls bringing rain but little wind passed over the boat. Chris took down the pole and put up the mainsail as the wind built to 15 knots. Behind us, we could see lightening in the hills above Banderas Bay. The seas began to build, reaching six foot swells with a two foot chop and I ducked below to take a Gravol.
By dawn we were exhausted from the sail changes and we discussed anchoring in Ipala, a cove that lies 13 miles south of Cabo Corrientes, but as we neared the anchorage, we could see it filled by surf and big swells with no sign of anchored boats. So we pressed on toward Chamela, resigning ourselves to another night at sea or a night time entry. At 8:15 we listened to the weather forecast on our shortwave radio, hearing that we were experiencing light winds from the north. The actual conditions were averaging 15 to 20 knots from the south east, right on the nose and all that day we beat into unpleasantly sharp seas, heeled over from between 15 to 25 degrees. We had another 50 miles to go and tacking would add at least 50 percent to that distance. Because of the rough seas and head winds, we could only make at best 4-5 knots. We reefed down the main and furled half of the jib. When the wind rose, the wind vane had trouble steering in the sloppy seas, so we took turns hand steering in order to make better progress.
Our 'inclinometer' - gimbaled stove with curry.
By midday the wind was gusting to 25 knots with the occasional squall. For the rest of daylight hours, the wind rose and fell, requiring us to make frequent changes to the sails, shaking out and putting in reefs in the main and furling and unfurling the jib. We tried to fly the stay sail – the small sail that a cutter has inside the jib, but found that on its own it was too small to give us much progress to windward.
We saw a few boats heading north, enjoying the boisterous following wind. Using our VHF, we made contact with Neil on SV Moondance, en route to La Cruz, who gave us some suggestions for anchoring in Chamela. We also encountered a number of trawlers – large rusty fishing boats that seemed to take a special delight in coming close enough to scare the pants of a gringo sailor! At one point near dusk, we tried to raise a trawler which was on a collision course with us using our VHF but were not able to make contact, so Chris got on deck with a flashlight to show him where we were.
By 2 am the next day we were both exhausted from the continuous pounding and sail changes, so we heaved Ladybug to under double reefed main. We left her jogging along at one or two knots about 60 degrees off the wind and we went below to get some sleep. Up around 4 am, we set all sail and made a little progress toward Chamela, but the wind died out at 5:30 and we gave in and fired up the engine. Three hours later we dropped our anchor in a little sandy cove off Isla Passavera near the village of Chamela and fell into a deep sleep.
Later we washed the sleep from our bodies in the warm clear waters off the island, following large schools of colourful fish as they swum along the rocky shores at the edges of the cove. The island reminded me of a tiny version of Isla Isabela, with nesting frigates, boobies circling above, and pelicans perched on guano covered treetops and cacti. Every inch was covered in bushes and vines of all shapes, sizes and shades of green.
We re-anchored that afternoon off Colorado Island when a southerly wind made our anchorage uncomfortable. The next day we inflated our kayak and paddled around Colorado island, landing on a lovely hidden sand beach on the southwest side. On the north side we paddled by another elephant shaped rock, bringing us fond memories of our visit up north in the Sea of Cortez to Catalina Island.
Our next destination would be Tenacatita, about 25 or 30 miles south.
Kayaking off the elephant rock.
Beach on Colorado.
Monday, February 15, 2010
La Cruz and Puerto Vallarta
My memory of the last 12 days is a bit of a blur save for the excitement of the big blow we were expecting on Thursday. Another trough similar to the one which brought the high winds in the previous week was building and the weather gurus had us all quaking with fear. Almost all the sailboats in the anchorage, including us, checked into the Marina Riviera Nyarit by Wednesday. We spent that afternoon taking everything out of the cockpit, cleaning the decks, tying up all loose covers securely and generally preparing for 60 plus knots of wind.
Malecon in Puerto vallarta
On Thursday, we monitored our electronic barometer closely, took walks along the breakwater watching the clouds gather on the horizon and chatted nervously with other cruisers. And..... NOTHING HAPPENED! In fact we saw blue skies and sunshine in the late afternoon. It was a big sigh of relief for most but an anticlimax nevertheless.
Sculpture on malecon in Puerto Vallarta
We stayed in the marina for 3 days during which Chris fried our starter battery and a house battery. He was attempting to recharge the battery bank and we knew something was wrong when the propane alarm went off. The starter battery was past the point of resuscitation and shorted out, taking one of the house batteries with it, so now we were down to 3 batteries total. With advice from our friend Rob on Blue Moon, Chris removed the 2 dead batteries and re-wired the remaining 3 and they seem to be holding their charge well.
Pillow heads climbing a surreal ladder
The walk to Bucerias, a small town east of La Cruz, to purchase electric wire and other parts to hook up our battery charger was a memorable one. We walked along the beach from our marina to central Bucerias, passing waterfront condos and restaurants, wading in the surf at the base of one hotel. The souvenir stalls around the main square reminded us that we were now in a tourist resort town. The electronic store was closed so we popped into a little “loncheria” to eat comida. When we returned, the tiny door within the main door was open and it was pitch black inside when Chris poked his head in to ask “ es abierto?” ( “ are you open?”). A low voice answered “ Si” and switched on a few lights, revealing the owner, Tony Fernandez, sitting behind a dusty counter surrounded by an Aladdin's cave of all things electronic. Not only did we manage to buy almost everything on our list but Tony gave us a history lesson on the area in between hunting for them. We found out that the Spaniards built their first Manilla Galleon just south of here in Barra de Navidad, Manilla being a trading centre in the Philippines. These galleons brought back spices and porcelain amongst other things to be sent to Spain. To protect them from English and Dutch pirates, the king of Spain ordered canon heavy naval ships to accompany the fleet. Tony's history lesson was later confirmed during our visit to the naval museum in Puerto Vallarta.
Cathedral tower, Puerto Vallarta
Neptune sand sculpture
For Valentine's Day, we took the 16 peso bus to Puerto Vallarta. The malecon was teeming with tourists and souvenir touts but we enjoyed the statuary and views towards La Cruz across Banderas Bay. I found my first vegetarian restaurant in Mexico, Planeta Vegetariano, and we enjoyed their scrumptious buffet lunch and tasted a new drink ( for us anyway ) - sweet oatmeal, a popular Mexican item.
Native dancers - One plays a pipe and then they all leap off and twirl around the pole until the rope unwinds and they reach the ground. Apparently an ancient tradition adapted, I suspect, for tourists
For entertainment, we were fortunate to hear classic and jazz music provided by secondary school bands from California and Salt Lake City. The jazz bands were joined by a celebrity percussionist, Ruben Alvarez, and he soon had us all cha-cha'ing to the latin rhythm. It was an awesome evening.
Excellent Latin jazz and from Salt Lake city
Glendale High School, California band - note the lack of sheet music!
Latin Jazz Band from Salt Lake City
We plan to leave La Cruz, our very rolly anchorage, tomorrow, to head south towards Manzanillo.
Wednesday, February 10, 2010
Escape from Isla Isabela – out of the frying pan and into the fire.
We had been expecting a south east wind all that day, so were not surprised to be woken at 4 am by a strong wind and lumpy swell rolling into the anchorage. Not wanting to get caught on a lee shore like we did in San Quintin, we immediately raised anchor and sailed for the mainland. Before we left I radioed a less experienced couple on a nearby yacht and suggested they consider leaving, advice which they took (we later heard they made it safely to San Blas). We sailed into head winds and rain squalls for much of the day, finally making landfall at Chacala near supper time. We had hoped to make San Blas but the winds were coming from that quarter, so we resigned ourselves to seeing it on the way back north.
At 10 pm, a sudden blast of wind and rain turned Ladybug completely through 180 degrees. The wind had terrific force – we estimate it as at least 50 knots. Occasional blasts of lightning lit up the beach immediately behind us – we were on a lee shore again. The lights of Chacala went out and then came back on, at least providing a landmark for us to judge whether we were dragging. We heard shouts from ahead of us in the bay and saw the schooner Tillicum bearing down on us sideways dragging her anchor. She dragged past and disappeared into the night headed for the breakers on the beach. The swell was now rolling into the bay and breaking waves were lifting our bow at least 6 feet in the air. We thought that Tillicum would be lost if she went ashore in this, but thankfully she reappeared ten minutes later, having managed to work her way off the shore with her engine. Another boat also dragged towards the shore, but surprisingly we remained firmly set, despite having only 100 feet of chain out. With our small engine, it is not likely we could have motored into this wind and swell.
After 20 minutes or half an hour the wind abated and we turned on our engine and used it to ease the tension on the anchor chain so I could remove the nylon snubber line and let out more chain. I kept Ladybug pointed into the swells as best I could while Chris ratcheted in the chain onto our windlass. Once we were better anchored, I made up a bed for us in the V-berth horizontally because the boat was hobby-horsing in the left-over swell so that it was impossible to sleep in the normal position. Even so, it was difficult to get back to sleep after the adreneline rush and with Ladybug doing her best impersonation of an out of control elevator.
We heard later that a similar but much more powerful 'bomb' had hit the anchorage in La Cruz, causing almost every boat in the anchorage (about 30 boats) to drag anchor. Some went ashore or bashed across the reef, but no boats were lost, although there was a lot of damage both from the wind destroying canvas awnings and rolled up sails and from collisions between boats. By the time we arrived in La Cruz, most boats had taken moorage in the marina and were beginning repairs. But we did not know about any of this until later the next day as we approached La Cruz ourselves.
After a somewhat restless night, we sailed our anchor out and headed south for Banderas Bay (the bay of flags). The trough that had been responsible for the crazy blow the night before was still clearly just offshore and we spent the entire day watching evil black squalls bearing down upon us and making literally hundreds of sail and wind vane adjustments to deal with the fluky and constantly changing winds. The winds moved that day through 270 degrees and varied from 0 to 20+ knots. We were sailing along a coast that reminded us of Hawaii with lush forested hillsides and a layer of coconut palms along the water. There were several small towns and resorts in this area, which is close enough to Puerto Vallarta to have fallen under the pall of intense development.
It was nearing sunset as we rounded Punta Mita into Banderas Bay. Because the official charts here are off by miles, I pieced together the various unmarked shoals and rocks that guard this entrance and plotted them on a single page GPS accurate chart that we found in Charly's Charts cruising guide. Even so, it was nerve wracking sailing as we tacked up the gap between the point and the off-lying Tres Marietas islands, watching the sea explode off shoals only a few hundred feet away. To make matters worse, the winds were the strongest we had experienced all day, due to the cape effect. And to top it off, our propane tank ran dry while cooking supper and Chris had to change tanks in the middle of all this tricky navigation and sail adjustments.
We had planned to stop at the anchorage just inside Punta Mita but this looked too rolly, with only three sailboats at anchor bouncing around like corks. None of the boats responded to our requests for information on the VHF radio, so we decided to beat our way into the bay towards La Cruz about 8 miles further. We hailed any boat in La Cruz for information and Mike on Sunshine Lady (whom we had last seen in Peurto Escondido) they told us what had happened the night before, mentioning that the weather forecasters had said a similar 'bomb' could happen again tonight. However we did not want to risk sailing into a marina in the dark without our engine, so decided to take our chances in the anchorage.
We made one slip up in navigation, which would have taken us right across the point that separates La Cruz from the rest of the bay. Fortunately the loom of the point was clearly visible against the lights of the city and we changed course, tacking a half dozen times before reaching La Cruz harbour. It was difficult to locate the anchorage but we were grateful for assistance via the VHF from sailing vessel Scrimshaw, whose blue anchor light guided us into the anchorage.
In Chacala, we were hailed by the lovely wooden schooner Tillicum out of Victoria. We chatted with the owner, Russ, on the radio before retiring for the night. He invited us to drop by for coffee the next morning, and invitation it turned out we were not able to take them up on.
At 10 pm, a sudden blast of wind and rain turned Ladybug completely through 180 degrees. The wind had terrific force – we estimate it as at least 50 knots. Occasional blasts of lightning lit up the beach immediately behind us – we were on a lee shore again. The lights of Chacala went out and then came back on, at least providing a landmark for us to judge whether we were dragging. We heard shouts from ahead of us in the bay and saw the schooner Tillicum bearing down on us sideways dragging her anchor. She dragged past and disappeared into the night headed for the breakers on the beach. The swell was now rolling into the bay and breaking waves were lifting our bow at least 6 feet in the air. We thought that Tillicum would be lost if she went ashore in this, but thankfully she reappeared ten minutes later, having managed to work her way off the shore with her engine. Another boat also dragged towards the shore, but surprisingly we remained firmly set, despite having only 100 feet of chain out. With our small engine, it is not likely we could have motored into this wind and swell.
After 20 minutes or half an hour the wind abated and we turned on our engine and used it to ease the tension on the anchor chain so I could remove the nylon snubber line and let out more chain. I kept Ladybug pointed into the swells as best I could while Chris ratcheted in the chain onto our windlass. Once we were better anchored, I made up a bed for us in the V-berth horizontally because the boat was hobby-horsing in the left-over swell so that it was impossible to sleep in the normal position. Even so, it was difficult to get back to sleep after the adreneline rush and with Ladybug doing her best impersonation of an out of control elevator.
We heard later that a similar but much more powerful 'bomb' had hit the anchorage in La Cruz, causing almost every boat in the anchorage (about 30 boats) to drag anchor. Some went ashore or bashed across the reef, but no boats were lost, although there was a lot of damage both from the wind destroying canvas awnings and rolled up sails and from collisions between boats. By the time we arrived in La Cruz, most boats had taken moorage in the marina and were beginning repairs. But we did not know about any of this until later the next day as we approached La Cruz ourselves.
After a somewhat restless night, we sailed our anchor out and headed south for Banderas Bay (the bay of flags). The trough that had been responsible for the crazy blow the night before was still clearly just offshore and we spent the entire day watching evil black squalls bearing down upon us and making literally hundreds of sail and wind vane adjustments to deal with the fluky and constantly changing winds. The winds moved that day through 270 degrees and varied from 0 to 20+ knots. We were sailing along a coast that reminded us of Hawaii with lush forested hillsides and a layer of coconut palms along the water. There were several small towns and resorts in this area, which is close enough to Puerto Vallarta to have fallen under the pall of intense development.
Our engine could not be started due to low battery power, which made the trip much longer than it would have been had we been able to motor through the calms. I was pretty worked up about the black clouds and rain squalls and Chris had to reassure me repeatedly that everything was going to be ok. It turned out that none of the squalls that passed over had much wind in them and we were entering Banderas Bay when the worst of the blackness passed by heading south.
It was nearing sunset as we rounded Punta Mita into Banderas Bay. Because the official charts here are off by miles, I pieced together the various unmarked shoals and rocks that guard this entrance and plotted them on a single page GPS accurate chart that we found in Charly's Charts cruising guide. Even so, it was nerve wracking sailing as we tacked up the gap between the point and the off-lying Tres Marietas islands, watching the sea explode off shoals only a few hundred feet away. To make matters worse, the winds were the strongest we had experienced all day, due to the cape effect. And to top it off, our propane tank ran dry while cooking supper and Chris had to change tanks in the middle of all this tricky navigation and sail adjustments.
We had planned to stop at the anchorage just inside Punta Mita but this looked too rolly, with only three sailboats at anchor bouncing around like corks. None of the boats responded to our requests for information on the VHF radio, so we decided to beat our way into the bay towards La Cruz about 8 miles further. We hailed any boat in La Cruz for information and Mike on Sunshine Lady (whom we had last seen in Peurto Escondido) they told us what had happened the night before, mentioning that the weather forecasters had said a similar 'bomb' could happen again tonight. However we did not want to risk sailing into a marina in the dark without our engine, so decided to take our chances in the anchorage.
We made one slip up in navigation, which would have taken us right across the point that separates La Cruz from the rest of the bay. Fortunately the loom of the point was clearly visible against the lights of the city and we changed course, tacking a half dozen times before reaching La Cruz harbour. It was difficult to locate the anchorage but we were grateful for assistance via the VHF from sailing vessel Scrimshaw, whose blue anchor light guided us into the anchorage.
We dropped the hook around 10 am and were fortunate to enjoy a restful night on the hook. We will be in La Cruz for a couple of weeks to explore the bay, visit Peurto Vallarta, hang out with our friends on Blue Moon, and deal with our low battery issues.
Isla Isabela – Mexico's Galapagos
Isla Isabela is a craggy mile long island with a small panguero fishing village in a bay on its south end. The island was made famous for its abundant underwater life and nesting bird colonies in both Jacques Cousteau and National Geographic television specials. On our first morning, we paddled over to visit with Jacob and Julia on Pisces, a Jason 35 sailboat that is quite similar to our Ladybug II. We had met this younger couple a week earlier in La Paz and they were keen to explore the island with us, having not yet been ashore. We joined them and their friends Naomi and John from Campbell River on the beach. In contrast to the usual cruising crowd, Rani and I were the seniors, with everyone else being 41 or under. Both couples have great blogs, Julia and Jacob's is here and Naomi and John's is here.
We chatted with some pangueros, learning that there is a full time fishing community of less than 50 people here. They also told us that regular tourist boats visit from San Blas about 40 or 50 miles away on the mainland. We later found a log book in which cruisers and tourists had signed their names, recognizing several yachts that had preceded us.
Ashore at the panguero village.
The pebbly beach where we landed is lined by colourful fisherman's shanties, painted green with red painted iron roofs. We left our inflatable kayak beside one hut and struck out on a trail that worked its way past a string of composting toilets overlooking a pond. Overhead hundreds of frigrates circled against a deep blue sky. In a forest of short trees that covers about half the island nest thousands of Magnificent Frigates – mainly black with forked tails. The males have red throat pouches they puff out during breeding season, like a heart worn on a sleeve. The females have white throats and the babies start off life as cute and fluffy white cotton balls, quickly developing into less appealing gawky grey adolescents.
As we followed the trail toward the north end of the island, we marveled at how close the nests were to the trail and how little our passing appeared to phase the families. We saw both males and females taking turns to guard the nests, each nest containing only one youngster. We passed by a larger pond and then came out of the forest and onto a rocky promontory overlooking the great north rock around which we had sailed last night in the moonlight. Julia shouted back to us that there were whales off the coast. We could see two pairs of humpbacks working their way along the shore, plumes of spray from their breathing making it easy to locate them. As we turned south and walked along the cliffs toward the rock pinnacles known as the Monas, we could see several more spouts in the distance. The sea must indeed be rich here to support such abundant avian and cetacean life.
Naomi, Rani, Julie, and Jacob hiking the cliff trail. The Monas are in the distance.
All along the path we saw yellow and blue footed boobies, some nesting and others courting. They are comical birds, particularly when they walk, and again they showed little fear of us. Most couples were making quite a racket, whistling and clacking at each other We did our best to avoid the nesting birds but managed to take some good videos and still shots. Chris noted that when they look at you face on, the boobies look like anoerexic owls, with their round faces and similar colouration. We also saw several iguanas sunning themselves on the rocks ranging from half a foot to two or more feet long.
Nesting blue footed booby.
Courting boobies.
Another nesting boobie.
We came to a sand beach across form the Monas where there is located the Norwegian Camp. Here, we met a student from Mexico city, who told us that he and other students from universities in Mexico spend from 6 to 10 weeks in this location, camping out, with supplies arriving periodically from the mainland. They study the boobies, tagging them to understand their breeding habits. I'm not sure why it is called Norwegian?
A student explains how he studies the boobie's breeding habits.
Rani walking past a forest of frigate nests.
Daddy and baby frigate.
Frigate family.
Rani with the Monas behind.
Frigates and Monas.
Courting boobies.
We swam in the surf and snorkeled out to the Mona's, but the visibility and life was not a patch on what we were to see later in our own little bay. After a few mis-steps, we found the trail back to the beach and returned to Ladybug. John dropped by before supper and tossed Chris a handful of shrimp from a huge bag that he had bartered a case of beer for with one of the shrimpers anchored in the bay. Chris cleaned them and quickly sauteed them in olive oil and garlic. He has not been a particularly faithful vegetarian of late.
Sunning iguana.
Male frigate with impressive pouch.
Chris faces off with a booby.
The next day, we slept in late, recovering from our lost sleep on the crossing. We woke up in time to see the spouting of whales in the distance. Even though Chris was feeling headachy, we jumped in the kayak and paddled out into the big ocean swells. About ¼ mile off the bay we came upon a pair of whales – one large and one quite a lot smaller (possibly a mother and calf). Chris maneuvered us to get close enough to film and I used Flip to take some movies. At one point we almost kayaked over the tail of the larger whale, which you can see in the video just below the surface of the sea. Being in the kayak sure gets you close to these awe inspiring animals who did not seem to resent our presence so long as we stayed behind them or well off to the side. We will post a video of this in the next blog entry.
Later, despite a big swell rolling into the bay, we managed to go for a snorkel along the nearby reefs, enjoying the warm water and abundant life. Rani saw a sea snake and another cruiser swam over to tell us he had spotted some barracuda off the point. Dozens of parrot fish and schools of surgeon fish swam between the jagged black rocks that had tumbled from the cliffs and all of us were swept back and forth by a strong surge from the swells. We made a cursory attempt to clean some growth off Ladybugs hull and propellor. The prop and shaft were getting quite encrusted after a few weeks in the warm rich water.
We went ashore around supper time and climbed the other trail that winds up a steep hill overlooking the bay to the lighthouse on the south point. The view from the top was stunning – red banded cliffs lining our little bay, the matching roofs of the panguero huts lit up by the lowering sun, and thousands of birds nesting in the rich greenery of the forests. Overhead the frigates whirled and dived, sometimes locked in an embrace with another bird, (presumably courting?). The entire cliff top was lined with booby nests and baby boobies at various stages of maturity. We returned to Ladybug, Chris paddling back to the beach to give the fisherman the last of our butter, so they could cook some shell fish.
Shrimper fleet in the south
Returning to the boats.
At 4 am the next morning we awoke to wind blowing straight into the anchorage from the south east. More about this later...
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