Sights & Sounds

     Sometimes there are things that bring back small enjoyments from another time.  We are in Mazatlán, Sinaloa, Mexico in a small marina that has the plus of not being very busy.  The facilities are good but limited and the distance to get to anything, buses, restaurants, or shopping is a little more than, say, Marina Mazatlán or El Cid, is slightly more than is “easy”.

     Although I just had knee surgery (two days ago) this is not about that.  Due to the surgery I am spending the nights in the salon on the bed we made up from the table there.  It is not a perfect bed but it is easier to get around than if I was in the aft suite trying to hike myself up to the higher bed there.  In any event, this morning I was nudged awake by the dog, Abby, who spends part of each night split between my temporary bed and the usual bed in the aft cabin.  On waking there was instantly a smile on my face that I soon realized was from a familiar sound more than from Abby’s gentle persuasion to get up.  In the last few years we spend the majority of our “Mexico” time much further south than Mazatlán and there are sights and sounds there that I now think of as Home (grackles make a great sound for instance) but there is something missing.  Part of reason is that when are anchored out we are too far from shore to hear anything less loud than distant traffic.  

     I can now hear you asking, “So, what is it that you heard?”

     From my years of living in Arizona the most constant morning or quiet time sound you can hear is the cooing of the three types of dove that reside there year round.  The Morning Dove, White Winged Dove and the diminutive Inca Dove all make the subtle coo that is the back drop for mornings with coffee on the porch or companions on quiet walks through the desert.  It is the sound that has secretly meant “home” to me since I was very young.  That is what brought the smile to me this morning and I recognized the missing ingredient as it brought the warmth of home back to me.  Do not be confused about this; I love my cruising life but it was a welcome, refreshing find this morning.

Tsunami and After

You might want to watch this full screen!!

Our experience was very interesting all these miles away but I cannot fully comprehend what this short video is saying... it would have been very scary to be in closer proximity.

To Bash Or Not To...

An unrelated picture from last summer's Wooden Boat Festival

So, if you checked out Sandy’s blog about the trip north from Barra de Navidad to Chamela then La Cruz de Huanacaxtle you know the story of trying to bash northward in some worsening conditions and the tale of the retry. In the last twenty or so years I have been on boats that turned around due to weather developments underway five times.

The first time was a supposed to be a weekend jaunt from San Diego to Ensenada. We had two Ericson 29’s in tandem as we left San Diego headed south; both with crews in search of a new experience. This was when I was in the very early stages of learning to sail. My off-shore clock had only started to turn in the arc of the first few degrees of travel. We jumped out of the truck and went directly to the dock and tossed our gear bags aboard almost as the dock lines were being uncleated. Well, almost, we had driven from Phoenix and gotten to the dock the night before on a long weekend. It was Saturday morning when we took off and there was a fresh breeze as we slipped out past the submarine base at Point Loma. It felt like there was going to be a great adventure ahead of us.

As the day went along the seas started to build and the wind got a bit beyond fresh. By nightfall things were getting boisterous. Since the goal was only to get to Ensenada and return after a celebratory hoisting of a tankard at Husong’s we were not heavily invested in actually getting there. After all, it was just a long weekend and the hidden goal was to get off shore experience. By the wee hours, as we tacked back and forth trying to get any sort of southing it was clear that there would not be enough time to actually get all the way to Ensenada and make it back to the slip in San Diego in time to drive back to Phoenix in time for work. At daybreak the turn around decision was as easy to predict as it gets. Yup, got the miles under the keel and “mission accomplished” was muttered by eight of us. As an aside, if we had landed in Ensenada we would have had to check in at the police dock for immigration/customs when we returned to San Diego, taking up more time.

Time passes and more time sailing here and there happens. I got invited to come along as crew on a boat going from San Diego to San Francisco. This was a fun delivery… the owner/captain (Hartley) wanted to slug the boat north so that his family could join him for the down hill ride returning to San Diego. As we rounded Point Conception (northwest of Santa Barbara, CA) at near 19:00 all things were calm and enjoyable. We were passing the flares of the oil rigs as I came off watch to go below for some rest. I slept awhile but was awakened by the crashing sounds of the boat hitting heavy swell. I rolled over and looked at the clock to note that I still had an hour or so before my next watch would start. As I was drifting off there was a significant BANG from the bow. I flew out of the bunk and was in the companionway in a flash. My friend Bud was already buckling himself in my harness in preparation of going out on deck. The Skipper was attaching the tethers to the jack lines and telling me to grab the wheel and turn us downwind. As I looked forward there was no forestay attached to the bow but a large bundle of what had been the foresail whipping around. There were two brothers onboard who had lost their father at sea not far from where we were. I have always felt for them since that day, they had to have felt a strong panic. I did manage to get the boat turned around; the guys on the foredeck managed to corral the errant fore stay and part of the sail (much of the sail was now in the water) and attach a halyard to the bow. Once the sail was out of the water, we limped into San Simeon to lick our considerable wounds. The forestay had exploded from a one inch diameter of wound wire to a two foot mass of sharp wire ends (that had punched numerous holes in the foresail). OUR turn around was one of the most dramatic ones I have heard about in the years since then. The brothers got off the boat in Santa Barbara and the rest of us got the boat back to San Diego for repairs and the next attempt to do the same trip later.

The next time I looked at a turn around I was on my own boat (Visigoda). By that time I had a bunch of experience and was feeling pretty confident about my abilities and judgment. I was going north in the Sea of Cortez on a nice southerly breeze when I turned the corner at Bahia Concepción to go to Santispac. As I entered the channel (narrow by some standards) I tried three times to tack into the wind while staying in the channel in my heavy cruising boat. Okay, so finally, I just said never mind and turned around to find an anchorage -- the one I found was not very good but it worked at the time. Today I would still have turned around but I know of a much better anchorage.

A few years later I went to Mexico to crew for friends doing a crossing from Mazatlán to La Paz. It was a wonderfully warm spring day when we left the dock and I was looking forward to sailing one of my very favorite boats. As we left the harbor there was a sweet breeze blowing and we quickly had the boat moving nicely in the swell. You can see the “but…” coming by now. By near nightfall the wind had kicked up substantially and we started bashing into ever increasing waves. .” It was the Skipper (Alan) who said, “I am not having any fun.” “Okay, there are only a few choices.” I said, “We haul off a few degrees and make for a point lower on the Baja side; we can ramp up the motor and continue bashing; or, we can turn around and go back to Mazatlán.” It was quickly agreed to turn around and find Mazatlán in the dark. That seems to sum up the essence of my philosophy on the matter. “If it’s not fun do something else,” would put the finer point to it. I might mention here that we got back to Mazatlán around midnight and a bunch of cruisers met us at the entrance to the harbor in dinghies with flashlights to guide us in. As it turned out we got some sleep and left again the next morning for one of the best passages I can recall in the last twenty years.

So, now comes the time we are coming up from the Chamela anchorage moving toward La Cruz. It was the moment when I saw the look on Sandy’s face and heard the, “I am not having fun,” just after we had almost come to a halt after bashing over a larger than average wave in worsening conditions that defined the next decision. “Let’s turn around and wait for a better weather window.”

I doubt that it will be the last time that this happens as I continue sailing. Fortunately my personal philosophy includes the permission to do so… I have nothing to prove to anyone and will give voice to the thought as soon as I can recognize that it needs to be said!!