Ensenada
Tuesday, November 8
Clearing customs went rapidly due to the amazing services of Marina Coral. Their office made copies of all our documents, a whole dossier, drove us to the port captain, and coached us in the peculiarities of customs and immigration, three windows one building. Then off we went to get our ham radio licenses and for some provisions. At the radio office we learned that the woman who did the paperwork had retired and not been replaced!
The best part of Ensenada was their fish market, a long series of covered stalls with gorgeous artistic displays, done somewhat in the fashion of Pike Place vegetable sellers. We bought some shrimp, returned to the marina and cast off about 3 and enjoyed the wind while it lasted.
The next day we tested out our gennaker. In the process of rigging sheets I found a pin lying on the jib track. It proved to be from one of the shackles attaching the mainsail to the car on the track. Meanwhile Tom found another pin, this one balanced on the leeward toerail! It was from the swivel that attaches the mainsheet to the end of the boom. Soon all the hardware was back in place and happily sailing along again. Whew!
Turtle Bay
Friday, November 11
This morning we took advantage of Enrique’s well run fueling system. One of the Gordo’s Jr pangas towed over a small fuel barge/panga and pumped gas into our tank. Reluctantly leaving Turtle Bay to stay ahead of what looks like a nasty SE blow, we snuck in a little bird watching as we coasted through a flock of at least 1000 white fronted shearwaters. Those sticks in front are sea lion flippers. They like resting with them out of the water.
Tom called a gathering in the cockpit for a special elevenses. We observed on his watch the time and date looking a lot like a number in base two: 11/11/11/11:11:11 (and then we crooked our little finders and prepared tea and cookies.)
Coming down from Turtle Bay we motored almost all the time. Very little wind, light, from the west with increasing overcast and no boat traffic. On the second evening in darkness, we felt our way along the mountainous coastline hoping for the moon to break through thick clouds as we approached Bahia Santa Maria, 17 miles north of the entrance to Magdalena Bay. No luck.
Approaching an unfamiliar shore in the dark, Charlie was a little worried about hazards in the water. He had plans for a bow watch with a radio for communication and powerful flashlights charged and ready! He had even plotted a GPS location for anchoring copied from one of our usually reliable cruising books. The little anchor symbol appeared to be well ashore. How reassuring!
However off the GPS coordinates on the charts, the land outlines are relatively consistent and the radar returns reassuring. This bay has a smoothly sloping sandy bottom and good shelter from the wind. Of course it seemed windier as we rounded up to drop the hook. Only two other boats shared the huge anchorage, a fishing boat at anchor with bright lights and another boat further in. Where did all those FUBAR boats go? We anchored in 20 feet and all slept simultaneously for about 10 hours.
Sunday, November 13
The next morning we ate breakfast hovering close to the companionway as the stern seat grew wetter and wetter in increasing rain. The wind (SW) had been predicted but precipitation was a surprise. In a leisurely fashion we drank coffee, anticipating a short day into Port San Carlos in Mag Bay.
About 10 a.m. we hoisted the anchor, drove onto the yellow land area on the chart plotter to confirm that we could have anchored there (and that we are not in a video game), then chugged across the bay, a long 17 miles. By the time we rounded the headland and entered Mag Bay, it was raining hard. A two knot current was running against the southwesterly wind making tall chop and reducing our progress substantially to about 4 knots. In rain squalls as we approached the long winding channel to the port we relied on radar. Of course many of the channel markers were not as marked on the chart. Magdalena Bay is a huge shallow estuary, about the size of San Francisco Bay, famous for its grey whale breeding and calving grounds in February, not November. The channels are constantly shifting, and as we had proved, the charts were off anyway. Those little purple streaks on the radar, aka buoys made it possible for us to stay in deep water.
We slogged against a 1 to 2 knot current as the ebb ran all afternoon, finally reaching the huge pier developed according to our sources for cruise ships. Passing that, we saw the pelican pier, also used for unloading fishing vessels many of which were tied up there. Hurricane damage from 2009 was evident with a sunken boat’s radar visible just off the pier.
Just past the pier there was one small sailboat hobbyhorsing at anchor where we planned to stop, but a little farther in shore, next to a huge sandbar and pelican hangout, it looked quieter. We dropped the hook and sure enough, found it a quiet evening. After dinner Charlie declared it was movie night and broke out the film 1900 to celebrate.
Monday, November 14
The morning radio nets get Charlie out of bed at 7. He likes to report our location and hear about weather all over Mexico’s west coast. Don Anderson, the weather guru, comes on and gives a report, answers questions, and tries to instruct the daft yachties. “Draw your counter clockwise circle for the low. In the center there’s no wind. NO WIND!”
We listen to see if he knows that we had a lot of rain. Apparently he does and he predicts a 25 knot day outside the bay. We’re glad to be going ashore to a grocery store and to stock up on diesel. At least we think we are. It’s not raining though lots of clouds hover over the low beaches and mangrove swamps along the bay. Getting the dinghy out and pumped up, nobody’s favorite morning exercise, we all head ashore.
The brown pelican, endangered along the west coast of the US in the DDT era, reigns supreme on land, sea and boats in this bay. We pulled our dinghy up the concrete launch ramp dodging a dead pelican I at first thought was a buoy. The birds filled the air above us, perched on fences, rigging, covering huge shed roofs! At least our new fat tire dinghy wheels tested out nicely even if the whole boat will soon be covered in pelican guano.
Getting into town involved a half mile walk down the approach road (paved) in the “authorized personnel” zone of the fishery business before we got to Combustibles de Mar de Cortez, the fuel company, just outside the gate. We stated our request for 150 litros. The office lady thought she was hearing wrong, wrote out the amount and looked at us in astonishment. The price was good, 10 pesos per liter or about $3.80.
A helpful young man appeared in a perfectly waxed, elderly white Lincoln, very clean inside. He was to get us the diesel but first offered to drop off the shoppers at the tienda. He drove us about a mile, mostly on sand roads and leaves with Charlie. Too soon they were back. They went for a little sightseeing tour of the town that included our friend Salvador’s house and baby! Charlie learned that he wouldn’t deliver the diesel in a boat. Oh well, a free ride back to the boat with groceries was a bonus. Further clambering across the language barrier ensued until we realized that he had no idea how to get the fuel to our boat. We didn’t either!
Eventually Charlie and Tom made three trips with a big plastic “galon” jerry can he lends us. We hoisted it up, get out the filter funnel and a lot of absorbent pads and still spilt a bit on the teak but we’d done it! 2 p.m. Time to go out for lunch.
This is cruising around here. You read the guide, learn some helpful stuff, but don’t really have all the facts, or enough to handle what you’re going to find. This port, in the biggest town on the whole Pacific coast of Baja, has no practical way to sell gas to sailboats. In some places that would be tough toenails, but in Mexico the people have time to help.
Tuesday, November 15
Having actually measured the distance from the mouth of Mag Bay to San Carlos, we realized that we’d made a 40 mile detour just for a day of shore leave. Adding a mile or two per hour for the adverse current in both directions it’s another 5 or 6 miles. Cabo is 190 miles from here.
At 7 a.m. we were cleaning off the anchor and easing toward a giant oil tanker that was unloading yesterday at the long, long red and white check sided pier we thought was for cruise ships. The ship had an ocean going tug to help it turn. A tiny panga appeared alongside to transfer the pilot, we assumed, and off went the tanker and the tug at 8 knots down the twisty channel and out to sea.
Once outside Mag Bay we passed several draggers not fishing alongside Isla Marguerita’s 22 mile shore. Then it was back out to sea. The wind was light but eventually we started to raise the main and discovered that our second reef line, left pulled up tight when last we furled the sail would not feed through the boom to release the sail. The line had jammed in the boom. Charlie brightly suggested substituting the third reef line and up went the sail. We motored along seeing, among other species, a turtle and a rare red billed tropicbird sitting on the water. Mid-afternoon we raised the spinnaker and enjoyed the quiet of sailing way into the evening. Everyone agreed when Tom says, “This is what we came for.”
Wednesday, November 16
The night breeze lasted until 8:30 a.m., our longest night sail off Baja. We powered the last few hours past desert mountains with a few houses and houses smattered along the shoreline. Finally the hotels began appearing. Around the famous arch on the point we beheld two Carnival cruise ships, jet skis, pangas, glass bottomed boats, noise and commotion everywhere. At last, Cabo San Lucas in all its glory.
Well, at least we could anchor outside the crazy marina. But wait, they charge you $18 even for that. Taking a panga in, we walked around town in search of a bottle of tequila, then returned to swim in the 84 degree turquoise water. That was enough of Cabo.
Thursday, November 17
San Jose del Cabo is an old city, somewhat inland from the shore, with nice treelined streets and artists' galleries as well as the usual tourist shops. Arriving in the morning we were glad to have some time to explore. Many buildings are built in the traditional style with interior courtyards, some with lovely gardens. Lee and Tom visited a number of hotels built in this fashion and found very cheap rates, around $40 to $50 per night, due to the low season and poor economy. The marina is a new development, still under construction with a perimeter of over a mile. The office sends a golf cart to transport customers around to pay. Across the way from us the estuary reserve had nesting egrets, osprey, etc. Unfortunately we didn’t have time to take a walk there.
There was a later exercising of the clipper when Fred shaved Kling and Kling removed Fred’s remaining tufts. Though it was painful to watch, the padres kept their own counsel, I’m happy to say.
