Crossing to the Mainland

It is hard to believe, but this is our tenth crossing of the Sea of Cortez in two years. Every crossing has been quite different both from where we have departed from and sailed to and because of the time of year and weather conditions. This crossing was mainly in light airs and took a total of 8 days from La Paz to La Cruz.

We departed La Paz on March 8 but only made it as far as the Caleta Los Lobos anchorage, less than 10 miles from La Paz . We sailed down most of the channel, putting on the motor to avoid beating through the very narrow stretch between Marina Palmira and the entrance. We had tried to tack through this bit twice already this year and find that with our big jib and the inner stay of the cutter rig that such short tacking is unelievably strenuous. Unless the wind is strong, someone has to go forward to help the jib around the inner stay and then run back to the cockpit to grind in the genoa. By the time this is done it is time to tack again! I am tempted to remove the inner stay and tie it off to the mast but it is nice to have it in reserve in case we have a very strong blow. This stay is where we can set a small staysail or storm jib.

Baking banana bread underway

Before we turned on the motor, Kurt came barreling out of Marina Palmira in his inflatable, pulled up behind us and handed up a nice cold Negro Modelo cerveza – one of the best send offs we have had yet from any port! Kurt and Nancy on Raven were also kind enough to maintain radio contact and relay messages to Rani's relatives in England, so we could clarify a health issue with Rani's mother.

The sail to Lobos was a beat to windward and we soon had 2 reefs in the main and were doing a nice steady 6 knots. We were outpointing and outsailing a couple of other boats and feeling very smug until the wind dropped and we were left flopping around in an infuriating steep 3 foot chop. We have often seen strange wind patterns in the area of La Paz Bay near the entrance to the Cerralvo Channel and also north of the channel near Espiritu Santo Island. We wallowed around for a while and eventually lost patience and put on the motor to steady things a bit while we searched for some wind. It looked like we would have a very rough time in the channel, so we called it a day and bore off for Lobos in the mid afternoon. Sometimes it just makes sense to call it quits...

Booby riding a turtle

The next leg of our passage was a long day's sail from Lobos, through the busy Lorenzo Channel and down the Ceralvo Channel to Los Muertos. We sailed out the anchor and were able to make the passage entirely under sail. The commercial port of Pichilingue lies just south of where we departed and in addition to tankers and small container ships, the big Baja Ferries run from here across to Mazatlan. We had to alter course to avoid shipping a couple of times in the Lorenzo Channel. The wind was light in the morning and as we rounded the corner to run down the Cerlavo channel it came behind us and its apparent speed dropped to almost nothing. A big swell made it difficult to keep the sails filled, but we poled out the jib to reduce the slatting and about half way down the 20 mile long channel the wind began to build until it reached 20+ knots. By 3:30 pm, even with a reefed main and partial jib, we were seeing boat speeds as high as 9.9 knots down the face of the waves. Each time we have sailed this channel, we have experienced similar conditions, with light winds at the north end and more than enough wind as the afternoon arrives and we reach the mid-point of the channel. This was exciting sailing and our Monitor wind vane steering was barely able to control things on this almost dead downwind course. As dusk approached we made the decision to pull into Los Muertos rather than face a rough night at sea for the first night of our crossing.

The actual open water crossing began at Muertos and ended about 80 hours later at Isla Isabela. On day 1 we began our sail with a good breeze and swell left over from the previous day. We had a pleasant downwind run that day with Ladybug galloping along despite being thrown from side to side by 6 foot quartering swells. That night, as forecast, the wind died down and we were forced to gradually turn off our course and point up into it to keep the boat somehat steady in the big rolly seas.

Bringing down the cruising spinnaker

On Rani's watch at around 3 am, half a dozenn dolphins came to play around Ladybug, weaving glowing tunnels of phosphorescence as they passed across our bow. I was woken to the strains of classical music as Rani attempted to communicate with her new friends. On my morning watch I had to alter course radically when a humpack whale sounded immediately in front of the boat and maybe 30 feet away. The whale seemed as surprised to see us as we were to see it and immediately dived. In La Cruz we learned of another boat and whale that had not been so lucky. The sail boat struck the whale three times, the final strike leaving the whale pinned across the boat. The boat began to take on water and they transmitted a mayday, but were able to stop the flow of water (the propeller shaft had become dislodged) and made it to La Cruz, where they are currently hauled out.

The wind died entirely around dawn and we motored slowly for a couple of hours to reduce the maddening rolling. After checking in to the radio net and listening to the weather we put up our sails to catch 1-2 knots of wind and were able to sail for the remainder of this day and through the second night until about 8:30 the next morning. We then took down all sails to wait for some breeze, the swell having gone down enough to make this tolerable.

Anchorage at the Monas (Manequins) Isla Isabela. Sea Hobo is pictured here and we later met single hander, Andy at La Cruz. He is a boat builder from Vancouver Island.

The third day was a light air day, too, with some slow downwind sailing and a couple of hours of motoring when the wind disappeared entirely. We began to see thousands of jellyfish and other assorted gelatinous blobs – some with bright blue glowing spots. I guess we were in a current that must run up and down the coast. We began to see two to three foot turtles drifting in the same current as well as sea lions basking on the surface with their flippers cocked up in the air. Rani counted over two dozen turtles go by that day close to our boat, some with birds riding on their shells (see picture). The calm seas also allowed us to hear and see humpback whales and we had several decent sightings of these huge creatures. Shortly after I fell asleep after my morning watch, I was woken up by Rani's excited shout of “Killers, Killers!” and I ran to the cockpit in time to see a pod of killer whales or, more correctly, orcas off our port beam.

Panga fishermen at Isla Isabela

The fourth day was even quieter than the previous and we decided to fly our Spinnaker to make better progress, hoping to reach Isla Isabela by nightfall. 7 hours running with the big red and white sail up, 4 hours under white sails, and nearly 6 hours under motor, saw us arrive at Isabela at dusk, anchoring off the Monas to the east of the island. Due to time constraints we did not go ashore and left early the next day, enjoying a splendid Spinnaker run until mid-afternoon, when the wind swung ahead of us into the south and we switched back to our regular sails. The wind vanished altogether by suppertime and we elected to motor in to Punta Mita at the entrance to Banderas Bay. Navigating this stretch of coast in the dark is a bit nerve-wracking because the charts are so inaccurate and there are rocks and unlit buoys at the entrance to the bay. However, we had waypoints and a GPS accurate mini-chart in our guidebooks and also some recollections of last year's night time entry. We anchored succefully at Punta de Mita, moving the next day into the more protected anchorage at La Cruz, where we will visit with our friends on Blue Moon.

Ladybug sails south from Puerto Escondido (Video)

Here is a short 2 minute video shot on Ladybug II as we sailed south from Puerto Escondido in a nice breeze.

Geology of Baja California

Note - I will be adding some pics and maps to this post eventually, so please check back soon.

View from the volcanic cone (828ft) on Isla Coronados

Photo courtesy of Kurt on SV Raven

For those interested in some geological background, I found the following information in " A Field Guide To The Common and Interesting Plants of Baja California " by Jeanette Coyle and Norman C. Roberts. In attempting to condense three pages down to three paragraphs, I may have omitted significant facts, so don't sue me!

The jagged finger of the Baja California peninsula is relatively young in the history of the earth. About 150 million years ago, a chain of volcanic islands existed between the modern day Sierra Nevada of California, USA, to almost as far south as Puerto Vallarta, Mexico. To the west of the island chain was the deep trench of the Pacific Ocean and to the east, a shallow sea. Over millions of years, sediments eroded into the west trench and the volcanic rocks built up in the island arc. Limestone and shale to the east of the volcanic rock accumulated in the shallow sea. Heat and pressure has resulted in the complexity of these "metamorphic" rocks. Rocks that were formed in the deep sea are exposed in the mountain ranges of the west coast of Baja California. The shallow sea sediments are found all along the coast of the Sea of Cortez.

Volcanic activity stopped around the age of the dinosaurs and tropical rains eroded the mountains to expose granitic cores created earlier. Some of these mountains eroded completely and a plain extended hundreds of miles eastward. Rivers flowed down the current peninsula carrying away gravel and sand to the Pacific. About 25 million years ago the San Andreas Fault split California and northwestern Mexico apart and everything west of the fault began moving northward. Movement is still occurring at a rate of about one inch a year and has displaced Baja California by 450 miles since inception.

The movement was not uniform and stretching of the peninsula was accompanied by more volcanic activity. The Sierra de la Giganta is formed from the accumulation of the volcanic rock. Lava flows and ash layers has created the colourful black and pink layered landscape of these areas. The rivers that flowed from north Mexico were stopped by the separation of Baja California and the plain lifted up and tilted in the east. This surface can be seen today, rising from sea level of the Pacific to almost a mile high in the Sierra Juarez and Sierra San Pedro Martir. Scattered on the surface are river gravels, some gold bearing, evidence of old river systems.

The east side of this highland area is the " Gulf Escarpment", east of which is the San Felipe Desert, with some isolated mountain ranges. Between the desert ranges are valleys filled with sediment.

Baja California is still geologically active.

Hiking in Baja California Sur

This blog entry is dedicated to my fellow hikers and great friends in the Cowichan Outoor Group, Vancouver Island.

View over Balandra Cove, north of La Paz

Chris above The Hook, Isla San Francisco

I am still a hiker first and foremost, using Ladybug II for access to some of the most unspoilt and sometimes challenging terrain in Baja California Sur. The rugged range of the Sierra de la Giganta provides a stunning backdrop to the pristine beaches and arroyos of the little bays where Ladybug rests while cruising down the east coast of the Baja. We have not yet managed to hike into the sierra but are content to scramble up the canyons and bluffs or wander down arroyos created by the summer rains.

Exploring a large arroyo on Isla San Jose

Panorama of paradise

As soon as we drop anchor, we usually rush to cover the sails, turn off the instruments, tidy up the deck, splash our inflatable kayak into the water and paddle to shore. If we arrive late in the day, we hike for an hour or more, often watching the sunset from the beach or bluff. Usually we linger at most places and explore for 3 to 4 hours at least each day.

Sometimes "we" read the tides wrong before we go ashore

Setting off from the beach, we follow arroyos (dry river beds), canyons or simply scramble up the cliffs to plateaus or peaks. There are no marked trails, except one on Isla Coronados, since it is a popular day trip from Loreto. Our cruising guides for this area have some suggestions, especially if other adventurous sailors have been out and about in the past. However, in most anchorages we create our own trail, taking care not to disturb the flora, especially if the flora has barbs! Scrambling up slippery scree at steep angles is not my cup of tea as I feel safer on solid rock, even if the jagged edges are lethal to my boots.

Dennis and Chris scrambling and sliding on Isla San Francisco

The Serengeti of El Gato - hiking with Randall (S/V Murre)

Along the way, we stop often, photographing the plants, admiring their tenacity to survive in the dessert conditions. Sometimes we find fossils, embedded in rocks from the river beds of past millenia. We stop to think about the people who lived in these lands. How did they live in such a harsh environment? The sea was plentiful in its bounty and even the dessert has edible plants. We found shell middens along the shore at several islands but also mounds on higher ground, evidence of land rising up from the ocean. Along the top of Isla San Francisco we found rocks that were shaped for grinding the cacti seeds or fruits.

Fossil found in river bed on Isla San Jose

Our pace is different from the usual club hikes as we have the time to wander at leisure. The climate has been perfect for trekking and the sun has shone every day since we arrived in Mexico. Chris has only gotten sunburned a few times and my tan is getting darker! The temperature varies from 15 to 25 degrees Celsius during the day now but was a little cooler when we first arrived. It is normally breezy on shore but can get quite hot during the hike as we venture inland. As all good hikers, we carry plenty of water and some food. I have to confess that we have been forgetting our first aid kit ( Sorry, Del and Dave ). Thankfully we have not encountered any rattlesnakes, scorpions or poisonous plants so far! Both Chris and I have had the occasional encounter with spiny cacti but other than a bout of swearing there is not much one can do in that situation.

Coyote foot prints on beach at El Gato

Vulture skull

Pantomime time at high noon

Desert valley and mountains near La Paz

Never get too close to wildlife!

Sailing on and off the anchor

Steve of S/V Mystic asked for a description of what we do when sailing on and off the anchor...

In three years of cruising down here, we have only had our engine fail to start once (due to low batteries) but you never know when the beastie will let you down, so Rani and I do a lot of practicing just using our sails. Sailing into or out of a crowded or narrow anchorage requires several skills that you do not learn well if you always down sails before coming in or fire up the engine when you depart.

When we arrive in an anchorage under sail, we usually roll in the jib at the mouth of the bay and proceed under main. The exception to this is if we have to beat up to the spot we have selected to drop the hook in. In this case we roll up most of the jib, leaving out just enough to help us tack. We may sail gently through the anchored boats (if any) to verify depths and find the best spot to drop. The trick is to arrive at the right spot after bringing the boat up into the wind and letting fly the main. I must admit that I do not always get this right and may find that once we have dropped down after letting out chain that we are too close to another boat. At this point we either sail out the anchor and try again, or more likely fire up the engine and after dropping the main re-anchor under power. If we are successful in getting into the right spot, we sometimes back the main in order to set the anchor. This involves pointing the boat into the wind (Rani does this) while I push the boom up to windward, filling the mainsail so that Ladybug drifts backwards. If the wind is blowing strongly, I may not do this and rely on the wind on the hull and spars to set the anchor.

When leaving under sail there are two main choices. If there are boats or danger such as rocks or a beach to windward, then we want to leave with the sails loose and drift backwards once we have raised the anchor. This assumes there are few boats aft of us. If the dangers are downwind then we make sure the mainsail is in tight and we beat upwind to the anchor and try to get away on the best tack so that we will clear any boats or dangers. We start by hoisting the main, but only after we have removed the anchor bridle and pulled in about half the chain. This reduces the time we have when we are sailing around with our anchor still in the sand! We often roll out a little jib after the anchor is off the bottom especially when beating to windward. Without this, we have had trouble getting Ladybug to go about, especially if the anchor is still in the water (hanging off the bow as a drag). Of course we try to get the anchor on board as quickly as possible to avoid steering problems.

Rani does the steering during this and I work the windlass on the foredeck to raise or lower the hook. So far we have only had to fire up the engine on one or two occasions when we got caught in stays and were in danger of running into another boat. Speaking of other boats - some people admire what we are doing and applaud a successful exit or entry - others are very uncomfortable when you arrive or depart under sail, perhaps because they would not be comfortable trying the same manoeuver. We do not usually do this in very crowded anchorages for this reason :)

Cruising from Puerto Escondido to La Paz

Rani is working on blogs about our recent hiking adventures as well as some information on the local flora, so I will fill in a few details on where we have been since Puerto Escondido. For those of you who are sailors, I will try to include some details on the passages (day sails) we have made between Escondido and La Paz, where we are now at anchor.

Agua Verde - the palapa is now home base for bow hunters after big horn sheep. The custom caravan belongs to a couple from Alaska.

Our first passage south was from Puerto Escondido to Aqua Verde, a pleasant 10 mile run. We had light airs for much of the passage although we had a promising start with moderate following winds from the northwest. These were strongest in the area of Danzante island, probably due to funneling between the tall peaks of this island and the Giganta range on the Baja 'mainland'. Later the wind petered out to a few knots and we used our whisker pole to hold out the jib, running with our main out on the opposite side. We spotted what we believed to be Gray whales swimming and resting on the surface. The quiet seas made it easy to see the whales from miles away and we would often hear their breath as they breached before we spotted a jet of spume.

Barrel cacti

Snug anchorage under the bluffs

We stayed two days in Agua Verde, due to light winds, buying a few supplies at a new tienda that has opened since the last time we had visited. The goats are not producing much milk at this time of year and we were not able to buy any of the delicious queso fresco that we had enjoyed in previous years. The highlight of my visit here was a tour of the Vancouver island sailing vessel, Aleydabeth. Lyle and Lark showed us around this lovely 35 footer, which they had built from a bare hull. In the heads was a magnificent English toilet, called a Baby Blake, which they had bought second hand. Unlike your typical plastic boat toilets of the $150-300 variety, this beauty was over $5000 new, made of porcelain, bronze, and leather. I was privileged to take the Baby Blake for a test drive and will try to install one in Ladybug if we ever run across a used one in good shape.

Anteater or elephant?

We sailed from Agua Verde out to one of the offshore islands, with winds gusting to 25 knots. It was a great ride with the beam wind pushing use along at a solid 7 knots for much of the way – a 'soldier's breeze'. This sail reminded me a lot of our trip out to Santa Cruz island in California in our first Ladybug. The spray was flying, but the greater freeboard and length of the newer boat kept the cockpit much drier (in Ladybug I, we took frequent spray over the dodger). We dropped the hook off a rock formation that our friend, Rob, from New Zealand on Blue Moon nicknamed the anteater (Rani thought it looked more like an elephant). Despite the strong winds we risked a kayak landing and hiked up an extensive arroyo filled with cacti and flowering desert plants. The trail led up and out of the arroyo onto a plateau that looked out East toward the mainland of Mexico. The sea far below was dotted with white caps and we were glad to be in a relatively snug anchorage.

Ladybug ghosting under the cruising spinnaker.

Two days later, we had a somewhat disappointing sail into El Gato, under whose familiar red cliffs we had anchored on several earlier occasions. After a nice downwind sail of about 8 miles, the wind went elsewhere and we resorted to motoring, taking the opportunity to make water. However, a light breeze filled in after an hour and we had a pleasant drift into El Gato, where a swell bending round the point gave us a rolly few nights at anchor. In El Gato we met Randall on Mure, a graceful 31 foot Mariner ketch. Randall was taking a year off to sail Mexico and planned to return to San Francisco via Hawaii in the summer. We invited him to join us on a lengthy hike and he made a great companion, pointing out and naming birds and plants that we had seen before, but had not identified. He later gave us a book on the plants of the Baja that has added a lot to our enjoyment while hiking.

Mure at sunrise in El Gato

Our next passage saw us using the motor more than we had in total in the previous two weeks. The wind gradually died as we headed south and despite and abortive attempt to fly our cruising chute, we ended up running the iron genny for more than three hours. We made so much water that the tanks overflowed and we had to pump out our bilge and dry out the eggs and cheese we had stored there. We anchored in a new-to-us anchorage near the north end of Isla San Jose. Two other boats were already at anchor when we dropped the hook off a stunning sand spit. We kayaked ashore and walked along the beach as the sun set behind the mountains across the channel – a magical place.

Strange little silverfish like bugs scoot all over the rocks near El Gato. Rani does not like these little beasts one bit!

To make up for all this motoring, we did not use the engine at all on the next four passages, sailing out the anchor and anchoring under sail in each new cove. I justified these maneuvers to Rani as good practice for when our engine would not start. It certainly builds skill to do this and I think Rani may even be starting to enjoy the extra challenge and the occasional round of applause we get when we do an elegant entry or exit under sail into or out of a crowded anchorage. On one passage, another double ender, a graceful Pacific Seacraft Mariah 31, anchored under sail beside us. We exchanged compliments when we sailed out our anchor a half our later, passing close under their stern as we left Isla San Francisco.

Starfish in a tide pool near El Gato

The most challenging maneuvers were when in a tight anchorage on a lee shore as happens quite often in the two big islands close to La Paz. On Isla Partida, we had to beat our way out of a narrow cliff lined bight, tacking every half minute or so into a west wind. Almost all the anchorages face west and we had a similar experience in the wider anchorage of San Gabriel where we missed stays twice due to having up too little sail and nearly ran into the cliffs on the north side of the anchorage. It is a trick to stay calm when you are drifting sideways towards the surf, but this is what you must do if you are to roll out more furled jib and convince the boat to come about on the other tack. We kept the key in the ignition just in case, but I refused to turn on the engine as this would reduce the realism of the whole exercise. Rani is still talking to me, so she is either turning into a real sailor or maybe just becoming resigned to her fate.

Ladybug anchored off Isla San Jose. Nopolo is in the background.

Because there was a National Geographic mini cruise ship anchored in the hook at Isla San Francisco and two other large power yachts besides, we gave this favorite anchorage a wide berth. Instead, we tried out another new-to-us anchorage off the Baja peninsula just south of and opposite Isla San Francisco. We anchored in shallow water in an open roadstead off a fishing camp. Ironically, we had one of the most peaceful nights here in all the places we stayed north of La Paz, for over the next few nights we suffered through Corumel winds blowing directly into the bays on the west side of the islands. We laid out a stern anchor to keep Ladybug facing into the gentle swell and slept like babies.

Balloon fish.

In Cardoncito on Partida island we re-connected with our friends Dennis and Lisette on Windward, spending a few days in their company, hiking, and sharing delicious potluck meals. As is often the case, Windward was heading in the opposite direction and we made tentative plans to see them later in the spring when we should cross paths on our return 'migration' to the storage yard.

Our final port outside of La Paz was the Lobos anchorage about 8-10 miles from La Paz. The anchorage was fairly crowded when we arrived but we tucked ourselves in under sail beside an elegant 40 something foot Swan sailboat. When we came back from a hike, we found 11 boats at anchor, of which 4 were from our home port of Victoria.

Ladybug sails along the Baja.

The sail into La Paz was a dead beat to windward into a short chop. We made it into the channel in two long tacks, but gave up beating up the narrow channel due to traffic in both directions. We anchored off Marina de La Paz near a shallow sand bar that separates the main channel from the Mogote. We plan to be here for about a week.

Heading South

From San Juanico, we sailed to the Coronados Islands, stopping for one night and hiking to the peak with Kurt off Raven. Once the wind filled in the sail was a delight, reminding me of why we started cruising in the first place. I was struck with how much more connected I feel here to the richness of our natural world than when I am living a 9-5 existence at home. We have traded the abstract complexity of our workaday lives back home for this more immediate and deeper experience. Anyway - enough philosophising...

Hammerhead shark head

Rani and Nancy (off Raven)

Kurt off Raven

On our hike up to the peak, Kurt talked of his sailing trip from Hawaii to San Fransisco, during which he and his girlfriend ended up in the Pacific Gyre (an area of calm water at the center of the Pacific high). Here they found all sorts of debris, although not the acres of plastic that now exist there. In addition to Japanese glass floats, they found the floating corpse of a giant red-coloured squid, longer than their 26 foot sailboat. Kurt told me that he later talked to an expert on these squids who told him that he had heard of only a few sightings in all the years he had been studying them.

Sun star

Anchorage on Isla Carmen

From Coronados, we parted ways with Raven and sailed for Isla Carmen where we anchored in a sheltered bay. Eager to stretch our legs, we found a lovely hike to a grassy plateau below which was the site of an abandoned village. The shell middens in this area were a couple of feet thick and extensive.

Grassy plateau on Isla Carmen

View towards Loreto from Isla Carmen

Trigger fish head

Cactus worship

Village shell midden

Sea arch on Isla Carmen

We are now in Puerto Escondido anchored off the Singlar marina.  Ladybug has full water tanks and washed down decks, the laundry is done, and this blog updated, so its time to head south again towards La Paz.

Riding out a gale

Sailors may seem overly preoccupied with weather from a landsman's perspective. Each day we wake up comparatively early to listen to one or more weather forecasts on our long range shortwave radio. When we meet another sailor, weather and sea conditions are almost always part of the conversation. The reason for this is that where we travel, our comfort and safety at sea, and even where we choose to anchor each night are determined to a large extent by the wind's direction and speed.

This time of year in the Sea of Cortez, it is common to have strong northerly winds reaching gale force and often lasting for several days. That means that it is very difficult to travel north and even traveling south can be dangerous or at least uncomfortable during these periods. These winds are caused by areas of very high pressure air north of us in the southern US and much lower pressure air south of us near the equator. The air flows south channeling through the Sea of Cortez until the pressure levels off to the north.

Rani relaxing in the balmy tropical breeze

During the northers, cruisers find an anchorage with some protection from the big swells and waves that build up after a day or so as well as some shelter from the wind. However it is hard to avoid the wind, which will somehow manage to bend its way around even the biggest mountain in its way. We anchored as close to the shore as we dared in a sandy cove with hills to the north. You want good 'holding' so that your anchor will dig in well and sand works well for this.

Before the gale we prepared the boat by removing extraneous items from the deck, tying off any lines that could flap around and keep us awake at night, and tying an extra line around the sail cover. We let out extra anchor chain and put on lengths of fire hose around our bridle (the line that ties the boat to the anchor chain) to reduce the chance of this chafing. We also turned on our mapping GPS, setting an anchor drag alarm. The GPS will detect when you have moved further than X feet (say 120) and will sound a beep to alert you. During the gale, we would get up about once every hour to check for chafing and ensure that the anchor bridle was properly positioned in the chocks. By zooming in on the GPS map, we could see our track as we swung back and forth on the anchor. Finally, we set a small sail called a riding sail from the stern of the boat. This supposedly helps reduce the amount of swinging you do around the anchor, but Ladybug has a very high bow and she still sails around her anchor vigorously.

The first day was exciting and we lost plenty of sleep in the night. The second day we got a bit stir crazy and desparately wanted to get off the boat. We chatted with Kurt and Nancy on the sailing boat Raven, anchored a few hundred feet downwind of us and they were feeling the same - you could here the frustration in their voices. By the third day we had settled into a routine, reading, baking fudge and bread, lazing in the cockpit (dressed in our winter clothes due to the icy winds), and watching movies on our netbook.

We also managed to get our water maker working, which was having problems due to small leaks on the system. The beast runs at 800 psi in order to extract fresh water from sea water through a membrane, so even a tiny leak will cause the whole thing to fail. Fortunately, we were able to tighten a few connections and make 6 gallons of pure drinking water.

First day ashore - We made this rock ladybug to place in the 'cruiser's shrine' - a tree on the beach where boaters have left memorabilia of their visits.

We were very glad when the winds died down enough on the third day for a quick paddle to shore. The following day we were able to go ashore together and think about heading south to our next anchorage.

Back on the water

Rani was not feeling at all well. Neither of us had been on the water since last April and the seas were coming in nasty short 5 foot lumps, pushed by more than 20 knots of breeze from the north west. Ladybug broad reached across the Sea of Cortez, the windvane steering capably now that we had turned her bow well south of our original course for Santa Rosalia. It's funny how quickly our plans change when confronted by an uncooperative wind. We had both been so looking forward to visiting the nursing gray whales in San Ignacio, intending to leave Ladybug in a marina in Santa Rosalia. Now however, we were bound for a snug anchorage at Bahia San Basilio, much further south. Here, we hoped to wait out the much heavier winds forecast for two days later.

Ladybug in the slings ready to lift. Francisco is the yard manager (standing by  Chris)

Ladybug ready to launch

Slings stuck in the mud under the keel - it took an hour to free her up.

A day earlier we had sailed out of Guaymas after a difficult launch. The launching channel at the marina seca in Guaymas is shallow and, unless the tide is high, when boats are lowered from the travel lift, the launching slings can become trapped under a boat's keel. It took more than an hour and much prodding with poles and hanging over the lifelines to free up the big canvas slings without damaging our new bottom paint job. Ladybug's keel settled into the viscous black mud and we tied her off around supper time to wait for an early morning tide.

Fishermen at sunset off Miramar, San Carlos area.

Before the sun rose the next day, we motored down the channel in the pink haze of pre-dawn. We had light winds most of that day but I was happy to be back on the water and we meandered the dozen or so miles to the Miramar anchorage near San Carlos. We were awakened the next morning by a heavy swell rolling into this anchorage, which made it impossible to sleep. By 11 am, the brisk north west wind that was now driving us toward the Baja had come up without any warning, and we quickly hoisted sail and got underway. The heavy wind caught us by surprise and Ladybug healed over so violently that our newly acquired handheld VHF flew across the cabin, it's volume knob breaking off in the process. We hurriedly put two reefs in the mainsail and later dropped the main altogether proceeding under reefed jib alone.

Patron saint of fishermen?

Rani's malaise was short lived as the Gravol took effect, and after a brief snooze, she was able to take her turn on watch. We sailed on through a moonless night toward a previously logged GPS waypoint that would hopefully keep us clear of the intervening dangers. Before we had GPS, I would not have attempted a night crossing like this with a predicted dawn arrival. Instead, steering only a compass course and estimating our progress via dead reckoning, I would most likely have slowed the boat down or steered further offshore to ensure we avoided the off-lying islands. As it was, even with GPS, our charts for this area were so inaccurate that it was prudent to ensure that we were at least two or three miles from the charted position of the off-lying islands.

San Juanico

Rancho Santa Ana welcome sign made of shells embedded in sandstone

We made landfall around dawn at San Basilio and anchored in the San Juanico anchorage after sailing about 100 miles in less than 20 hours. Despite getting little sleep on the crossing, we knew we had to make the most of our first day here because gales were forecast for the following three days that would probably keep us pinned down on board Ladybug. We inflated our double kayak and paddled over to a nearby beach from which we hiked all afternoon along the shore and over several bluffs to a rancho that lies in a valley a few kilometers away. We returned via a true high clearance road (Rani all but disappeared in the ruts!) and spent the evening preparing Ladybug for the predicted high winds. A 39 foot Westsail had anchored nearby while we were off hiking and shortly after we returned to Ladybug, Kurt and Nancy motored over to say hi. We discussed our preparations for the blow and agreed to monitor 18 on the VHF in case either boat needed help.