OK, so where were we? Ah yes. Ensenada. Claudia and I really like Ensenada. Even though in some respects it is Americanized, it is still clearly Mexico. Big Bro is not anxious to fine you for not wearing a seatbelt, and you'd better watch your step when walking in town. You could end up to your knee in a pothole. With good food, friendly people, lots of Tavernas, and almost free tequila, what's not to like? Well, this year, it was the weather. Cold. IRIE is proving to be a wonderful magic carpet for us, but she lacks any kind of heater, and we were waking up to low 50's with daytime highs in the 60's. Not my idea of OK.
As we're travelling downhill, that is wind and/or seas behind, helping us along, IRIE averages about 5.5 knots or 6 mph. Really scootin huh? That's mostly motoring and using sails when we can. So, on a god 24 hour day we cover about 125 miles. One of us is always on watch when we're underway, and we really don't like doing the 24 hour thing more than one day in a row, so here's how it worked out.
We left Ensenada at 1030 on Monday. Sunny with a light breeze, seas (seas = swell and wind waves) at around 8 feet, leftovers from the storm that had just passed. At this sea height, when siting in the cockpit looking aft, about every 14 seconds, the horizon is replaced by the top of the next approaching swell. You're at the bottom, looking at this rolling blue monster in the attack position. The next thing you know, you're on top of it looking down and out at the horizon again. It's only scary to think about it. The actual experience is more zenlike. You become entranced watching, and maybe wondering how, the boat does this so effortlessly.
That's the good part. The other part is the motion that seems everpresent in following seas. On this day, as on most of this trip, the seas are not reaching us from directly behind. When looking directly aft, the seas are approaching from about 10 O clock. So, rather than a simple rise and fall, we get to roll side to side at the same time - call it wallowing. It's not consistent, but it does follow a pattern. You get about 20 to 40 seconds of nearly straight up and down - time to pour a cup of coffee or take a sip, or write a few words, or pee into the toilet, or chart your position, or "please let me get to sleep now!" - then the rolling side to side starts. And you know exactly when it's beginning as you almost unconsciously brace yourself. The rolling may be just a little bit, or it may be 20 - 30 degrees to each side, which is especially fun at night. Then it eases off, and you get your portion of rest again. Please understand that I'm not trying to say anything here. It just seemed to be a good time to try and explain what this trip is like. While the motion is rarely fun, we do get used to it, especially knowing that once into the Sea of Cortez, there's not much swell anymore.
Just now as I'm feeling a bit tired of the motion, we were visited by a handful of dolphins who thought IRIE was Big Momma or something. When they're around, you can't help but be fixated by them - nothing else is happening.All right, back to last week. On Tuesday morning we reached the anchorage where we planned to spend the day and night. But the sun was up. It was a new day, and things were suddenly looking much better. Plus, we had heard some pretty negative things about this place from other cruisers. So, we decided to continue on to another anchorage at San Carlos, maybe six or seven hours ahead.
On our arrival at San Carlos it was showtime. We've set our boat up to be completely independent. That is, to take care of us just as well at anchor as tied up and plugged in at a dock. She makes all the power we need from wind and solar, she makes lots of sweet fresh water from the sea, and she carries excellent ground (read anchoring) tackle. But we had never anchored her before. And there won't be a dock to tie up to even if we wanted to until maybe Cabo San Lucas, about 650 miles in our future.
We pulled into the tiny little cove, nosed into the wind, and performed the perfect "Dario drop". (someday maybe I'll try to explain that one) We were hooked up off a little fishing village of maybe a dozen homes and a few RV's with about an hour of sun left. It was salsa & chips & beer in the cockpit. Happy day!
We had some learning to do about using the electric windlass, and what are all those new noises? At about 0200 we awoke to howling wind and more loud noises as chain worked in the bow roller, the rudder moved back and forth, and the dinghy swung in the davits. But "I don't think we're dragging" was heard over and over. The wind topped out at about 25 knots, and then, just as suddenly as it had started, it was over at 0330. Too much adrenalin to allow sleep, but we had passed our first anchoring exam.
Wednesday morning we packed it up around 1000 and headed for Turtle Bay under sunny skies and a light following breeze. I don't remember much about the day or the night, but Thursday daybreak about 20 miles from our target we found ourselves emerging from the channel created by Cedros Island and the major Point Eugenio - this is the point of the Baja that looks like a left facing fishook on a map - into 30+ knots of wind. Had the storm front predicted for Saturday come early? Or was this just a wind creating geographical prominence that I should have seen coming? Duh. Four hours later, the wind had calmed and we pulled into the friendly anchorage and village known as Turtle Bay.
Turtle Bay is a good time dirt street Mexican village. There were about a dozen other boats already there and more following in behind us to wait out the storm promised for Saturday. Thursday afternoon was strictly for R & R aboard and a good night sleep. Slept in some on Friday AM too, but then it was time for our first steps on dry land since Monday.
The price for a water taxi had gone way up, so we decided it was time to check out our new dinghy. As you know, the motor only runs with the choke on, but we thought we'd take a chance with it anyway. It was just fine for the 3/4 mile trip to the town pier.
Once in town, we found all three mercados and bought from each one some of the best looking produce they had. Another dinghy ride back to IRIE to unload, and back to town for party time. There were familiar faces from Ensenada and some new folks too, but mostly they were just talking about their trip just completed. Uninterested, I noticed a young man next door - maybe 40 feet or so away from the bar patio we were at - lighting up a homemade grill. I brought a couple of beers over and said hola. He spoke about as much English as I speak Spanish, but we were having a fine Friday afternoon together anyway. Then, along came chef Kalel. We had met him earlier as he was interpreting for another couple doing their shopping. His story goes that he was stuck in Turtle Bay, providing any services he could for tips until he could save enough for bus fare back to Cabo where he owns property. I didn't buy his story, but he was fun to be around and the beer was cheap enough that I could keep everyone happy. Soon the young man, Israel, brought out a plastic bag holding about a dozen 10 -12 inch fish, cabrillo I was told. They were too small to fillet, so they had been gutted and otherwise left whole. Israel had been trying, completely unsuccessfully, to dissolve or blend a couple of boulion cubes in beer for seasoning I suspect. Thank goodness chef Kalel came along just in time to make everything irie. Pay attention now girls. Here's a new recipe for fish tacos.
Kalel took each fish, cut a few slices into the flesh on each side, then smeared the whole thing with common yellow mustard. He wrapped each in foil and onto the grill it went. After about 15 minutes, tortillas were warming on the grill too. Getting the fish into the tortilla without a lot of bones must be an acquired skill that Claudia and I failed at, but the fish with only the yellow mustard was a taste treat that we'll try again. Maybe with a fillet next time.
The rest of our time in Turtle Bay was a further and more serious testing of our anchoring skills. Let's just say that we won. Today has been fantastic. Sunny with a fair sailing breeze, only slightly rolly so we're not confined to the cockpit, motorsailing the 50 miles to Ascuncion where we'll anchor for the night. We're on our way to Bahia Magdalena, another 200 or so miles ahead. It's getting warmer. Life is good.
E
Flash update::::: Checking over the engine room last night, I noticed a loose belt. It turned out to be caused by the shearing off of the four bolts that hold one corner of our diesel to it's mounting bed. This is pretty bad as we can't use the engine this way. I hope we can find a mechanic in this little village. Onward and Upward.
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