La Fuente: The BEST Ice Cream in the world

 

Mama, Michael, and I agree, the ice cream at La Fuente, on the Malecon in La Paz, has to be some of the best we've ever eaten, probably because it's made right on site. We took a quart of mango sorbet with us when we went to the islands for the second time, but we ate the last scoop two days before we returned to the city. We decided we had to have one last cone before driving Mama to Cabo and her flight home. Here she enjoys a scoop of banana and one of mango -- her favorite combination. Can you believe she ate the WHOLE thing? Not bad for 81 years. I just hope I'm as agile and excited about life when I'm her age. Go, Mama!

Lovely bird, lovely water

 

We stopped in Caleta Partida, a bay between Isla Partida and Isla Espiritu Santo, on our way back to La Paz for a quick medical visit and then for the last week of Mama's visit. It offers the most protection from the nightly corumuels, besides being quite lovely. Boats came and went while we snorkeled, ate well (including two red snapper we traded for two flashlight batteries and a gallon of gasoline), read, and marveled at the clarity of the water. Snaking between sand bars in the dinghy, we found perfect snorkeling on the Sea of Cortez side of the islands. I saw a Reef Cornetfish, a surprise find, as well as a small octopus. Beautiful black, yellow, and blue Cortez Angelfish, schools of Panamic Sergeant Majors, shy Damselfish, including the gorgeous juvenile Giant Damselfish with their iridescent blue spots, abounded near the rocks. We didn't want to leave.

On the trip back to the boat, we caught sight of a blue heron and took several pictures, including the one here. Check out the other lovely photos of our trip on the link to the right: Mama's 2009 Visit to Sea Venture.



Sunset, June 10, looking out the anchorage. And following, Michael getting ready to clean the barnacles from SV's bottom. His homemade hookah works wonderfully. Gloves, scrapers, and he'll be set.

Ella spies out the land

Mama’s trip on Sea Venture:

We motored out of La Paz harbor on Tuesday, May 26, as soon as the wind had died enough to assure easy access to the fuel dock. We made an appointment at Marina Costa Baja for noonish. Slipping between anchored boats, passing into the channel to cross the bar, turning toward the harbor entrance, gliding past the Malecon, past Marina Palmira, we arrived at the entrance to Costa Baja only to see two huge motor yachts already there. Michael called the dock. “Two hours, senor,” the fellow said. Obviously, boats needing several hundred gallons rated above our measly need for 100.

Palmira’s gracious crew said they could serve us. We turned and headed back. At the entrance, Erwin from Thea Renee greeted us in his dinghy. A small boat was just finishing; Michael slowed us to a crawl, bringing us into the dock just as the small boat left. One hundred and ten gallons later, we edged out, helped by Erwin’s dinghy tug service when the north wind tried to push Sea Venture’s nose in the wrong direction.

And we were off. The wind was light, but we hoisted a few sails and played around in Bahia de la Paz, having decided to take our chances in Bahia Falsa for the night, even though a good sized corumuel was predicted. (Just for interest: Corumuel’s were named after a British fellow named Cromwell, whom nobody liked, it seems. Corumuel was the closest the locals could get to pronouncing his name.)

Bad choice of anchorage. We closed in on the southeast corner, hoping for some protection when the nightly winds blew. Instead, waves slapped the hull, and Sea Venture danced. I worried that Mama wouldn’t sleep. We had the anchor watch on, so whenever one of us got up, we could look at the screen and see just where we were in relation to our anchor and a rocky lee shore. She bucked, but didn’t budge from above the well set 120-lb Spade.

The next morning we decided to hoof it north to San Evaristo, about 40 nautical miles away, or 51 nautical miles from La Paz. This is the first anchorage on the mainland side, the first that would offer protection from the winds. It meant bypassing the islands, but we needed the rest. Motorsailing most of the way, we arrived around 6 that evening to find the best spots already taken. The swells rocked us, but we had no breaking waves. By ten the next morning our neighbors had left. We tucked in behind the eastern cape where the water was calm and the living good.

We watched birds in the cool of the morning, pelicans plopping, gulls swooping at tossed morsels. In the afternoon, Michael ferried us in to shore so we could walk and check out the activity. Pangas sped in and out of the bay, bringing their catch for the markets. We came across a lovely young man in the process of filleting a yellow-fin. He sold us a quarter of it for whatever we wanted to pay. Sixty pesos? He nodded. That was probably more than he would have gotten for it at market.

We barbecued the tuna. Mama pan fried some jumbo shrimp I’d bought in Mazatlan and frozen. The fresh green beans were a tad tough, so we boiled them in broth with onions. Baked beans rounded off the meal, with English muffins for corralling the food.

Boats arrived to tuck in out of the wind. A lovely little ketch and a big ugly white one. A 25-footer that must have been shoal draft or equipped with a centerboard slipped in just under the cape. Lastly came a big power boat that nosed in to our port side and dropped a few feet of chain. Michael glared, imagining us and our 100+ feet bouncing off his side in the middle of the night. Fortunately we continued to swing in the other direction..

Now the beast has gone. We’ve breakfasted. Mama’s about to have her morning latte. Michael is trying to fix another pump. This afternoon we plan a little snorkeling. Maybe some dinghy sailing.



May 31, Mama and I sail Sea Venture's Number 2 dinghy. Barely any wind, but she scooted along nicely as we checked out the anchorage. Two sets of white legs, but mine were covered with sunscreen. Mama said she was fine. She goofed.



Isla San Francisco, June 1, 2009

We've moved across and south to Isla San Francisco. This is the beginning of a smashing sunset. Picture the daylight scene on June 2: aft of us, a sandy beach; across the channel and rising out of the sea, mountains that have been pressed and sliced for centuries into striations of rose and mauve, grey and tan, then decorated with clumps of moss green; a rocky shore nearby with cutout cliffs echoing the mountain colors; and below Sea Venture, twenty feet of blue that melds into azure closer to shore…. It’s like glass now at 11:29 AM. During breakfast, we watched a procession of boats head north through the San Jose Channel from Bahia de la Paz. Behind us, two boats have left the anchorage, one heading north, one back to La Paz. Sea lions bark from rock islands at the channel edge. Gulls, frigate birds, and pelicans cavort around us.

Michael has the floorboards up. He has already made labels for his sight glass so we now know how many gallons remain in the water tank without having to look up the conversion. He cleaned the water filter for the refrigerator, which he had defrosted two days ago. Good man. Now he’s messing with what looking like the oil filter on the main engine. He says there’s very slight oil leak, so he’s fixing that. Then he says he’ll raise the filter slightly so it doesn’t interfere with the hoses. Clever man. Oh, yes, and the paddle wheel needs cleaning. Things grow down there faster than one can blink.

Today is a projects day. I think. I’m planning – though who knows what will happen -- to use up some of our nice water to douse the decks and wash windows. Perhaps do laundry. Then read. Mama is napping after having had her morning latte. Soon it will be lunch time. We took the dinghy out to investigate the neighborhood last night. Glorious water. If we feel like it, we may snorkel this afternoon. Or put out the fishing rod.

Tough life.

La Paz again

We're anchored in Ensenada de la Paz, off the Magote, which is a peninsula protecting the harbor area from the more open Bahia de la Paz. The anchorage is subject to a hefty current flow, which often acts counter to the winds. Evening corumels blow through here and provide cool nights. The resultant dance is called The La Paz Waltz,in which boats gyrate with either the current or the wind -- or a combination of both. We're fortunate to have a 120 lb. Spade anchor and lots of heavy chain, and have our anchor bouyed, letting us see where the boat sits in relation to it, sometimes in front, sometimes at the stern, usually to port or starboard.

We spent our first week at Marina Palmira as we debated the various anchorage options. Lucy the Goose, a Palmira refugee and now guard goose, entertained us. We had some lovely times with our buddy boat's owners, Phyllis and Erwin, especially the evening spent watching the two of them play pool with another boater. Erwin is a master at the game, though Phyllis looked really professional with that cue in her gloved hand. I can't imagine being able to announce that your ball is going to hit five various points before it scoots its object into a pocket -- and have your announcement result in performance. Amazing.

Marinas offer fun things to do, but anchorages give us the opportunity to keep cash in our pockets while we stay cool and independent. Our solar panels are performing beautifully. The solar shower delivers lots of hot water: I learned last night that one doesn't use it until the water has had an hour or so of dark to cool down. I, who love hot showers, had to mix it with cold from the boat's tank via the shower head so as not to scald myself. Of course, if one waits too long, one has the opposite experience. Michael likes a cool shower: he experienced cold.

The dinghy is now our means of local transportation. We tie up cheek by jowl with other dinghies at Marina de la Paz's dinghy dock for the princely sum of 15 pesos, which at 13 to one is just slightly more than a dollar a day. From there, it's about eleven blocks to the CCC, the closest grocery store. Parts suppliers are all within easy walking distance, and Club Cruceros, right at the marina, provides the lending library of choice.

Sunday found us heading out into Bahia de la Paz to make water and wash clothes. A few miles offshore we parked the boat with the wheel hard over, intending to drift. Well, we did drift, with the current, slightly, but we were obviously hove-to, as we created a lovely slick on the water to windward when the afternoon breeze piped up. We made over 125 gallons and washed four loads. Wonderful dry air cut the drying time to minutes.... We had intended to listen to a podcast sermon while out there, but the generator's noise (needed to run the high-output watermaker) precluded this. Instead we had a worship service of praise for the glorious creation and then heard a sermon once we returned to the anchorage, where another sunset accentuated our desire to give thanks where thanks are definitely due.

If it weren't for the flu scare, we'd be thrilled with life. Yesterday's trip to the market showed closed schools and face masks everywhere. There haven't been any confirmed cases here in Baja, but that doesn't mean folk aren't sick. We're not eating out these days, which is probably healthier anyway. Considering that the virus seems to have jumped borders and oceans, I'd suggest everyone take care.

Do check our pictures on the link at the side. I've never seen so many gorgeous sunsets and we haven't even been here a month.

More Thoughts on Mexico

From our first months in Ensenada we noticed it. And from frequent trips across the border, we noticed the lack of it.

Happiness. Contentment, in spite of life lived with less than the average American would consider a sustenance wage. Choices made to honor family, to delight in children, to honor whatever faith they know. Choices made to be content with what they have.

Smiles handed with impunity to strangers. Offers of help without a price tag attached.

And once we escaped the gringo influence in certain boatyards, a work ethic to be admired. In Mazatlan, the Mexican mechanics who repaired our engine did so with an eye to excellence and a care of our boat that couldn’t help but please. The gentlemen who did stainless work for us took obvious pride in their design efforts and seemed embarrassed to request additional funds for changes and extras we requested. The workmen spent a hot day adjusting, fitting, welding…all the while joking and laughing together and with us. The young sons of the man who worked on removing old varnish from the boat spent hot afternoons teasing one another, full of joy. The owner of a car parts shop joked with Michael as he searched to meet our needs. All smiles. Very little capital changing hands. Taxi drivers in Ensenada gave way to pedestrians or other drivers and smiled when they did it. Across the border everyone scowled.

I know there are problems. There are dinghies that go missing from anchorages. We’ve been warned about the one we’re in right now. But what we saw this morning was a family in their motorless panga that they maneuvered with one paddle, line fishing probably because they don’t own rods or nets. And they were laughing and playing as they did it. If they live in the shack by the water’s edge that we’ve noticed, they probably were fishing for their food. But they were laughing. Happy. The impulse might come to avail themselves of some rich gringo’s dinghy. It might. To them it would be worth almost a year’s wages. So, we keep our dinghy on deck. In the States, there were areas near our marina where we might fear for our lives. We’ve never felt that in Mexico.

Perhaps if we lived in Tijuana or one of the other border towns where drugs abound, it would be different. Why do problems exist there more than in, say, Mazatlan or Ensenada? Could it be that the market for the drugs, the US, is just across the way? Which makes one wonder if the problem is them or us. Why do we make such an issue of drug areas in Mexico and ignore the blight in our own cities?

Just a thought or two.

Bahia Falsa

Bahia Falsa
4/12/09
Easter Sunday
He Is Risen!!!


Cacti silhouette the hills’ edge. Silence, except for the distant drone of traffic on the road into La Paz and the laughing folk in a panga nearby, graces the sunlit day. Sea Venture turns on her anchor, the scenery changing with the breeze.

We’re so glad to be at anchor again, away from near-neighbors at the marina. We’ve loved making friends, some for a lifetime, at each marina home, but our spirits crave this aloneness where God’s nature becomes so evident in His creation.

Church this morning was a sermon downloaded from Smyrna PHC entitled, “A Penny for Your Thoughts,” taken from Psalm 40:17: “…I am afflicted and needy, Yet the Lord is mindful of me.”

God hasn’t forgotten us, no matter what it looks like ‘round about. His thoughts are on me. And on you. Whether or not you know Him, His thoughts are on you, for you, calling and drawing you. When we feel afflicted enough and needy, unable to conquer the world on our own, unable to fix what’s wrong in our life, unable to sustain joy without some outside aid, then we can call on Him and know He will answer. Even if you think you’ve tried to call before, if you imagine you’ve heard only silence in the air, it may be because you weren’t ready. Because His thoughts for you are for good. Always. He has promised that joy comes in the morning. When the storm rages and the wind blows at 50 knots, it may seem as if all of nature is conspiring to batter you, and that the Lord is silent.

I’ve wondered why faith comes so easily to some and why others of us have to work at it. Why we go through so much of our life straining at bonds, thinking ourselves smarter or more sophisticated, thinking we need nothing more than we can find on our own. Until that moment—or moments—when all our striving turns to ashes, when our health or our wealth or our relationships aren’t sustainable through our efforts, when we finally recognize that we’re not sovereign after all. I suppose that’s the moment when we’re ready to admit that there must be more and that we are needy enough to ask and receive the more God has just been waiting to give us.



We’re listening to Marcos Witt sing “Gracias,” one of the most beautiful renditions of a Latin worship song I’ve ever heard. Gracias Senor for this place, this life, for all the riches of love. For holding me in Your thoughts, in spite of myself, in spite of what I’ve done or been, in spite of my lack of faith when it’s blowing 50, in spite of the times I’ve run or fainted. Gracias, mi Senor, mi Dios, Jesus Cristo, who died and rose again for me and for you and for all who will call on His Name.

A Mess at Sea

Thea Renee buddy boated with us across from Mazatlan. Here she is to starboard in the last rays of Friday's windless day, her owners unaware as we were that in less than an hour these placid moments would become a vague memory as they struggled to keep her dinghy from breaking loose and sinking into the great, dark oblivion.




Sunset on the Sea of Cortez. Beautiful,with no hint of what was to come.

That's what the weather was like at 6PM Friday, Land ho! on the Baja side. By 7 PM, we weren't in a position to take a picture of anything. See that spit of land? All we wanted to do was get around Isla Cerralvo so we could head in the direction of the Canal de San Lorenzo, perhaps with an overnight rest stop at Isla Espirito Santo. Instead, we stayed at about that same latitude and longitude all night long.

It’s one thing to be on the ocean, miles out, and have the wind at your stern, blowing you at a screeching speed toward your destination. The boat handles the huge waves, the autopilot does the work of keeping you on track and fiddling through the wind/wave gyrations. It’s a completely different thing to know you’re stalled in 35-50 knots of wind and pounding waves, the boat speed dipping to zero and only climbing just above 2.5 knots at its zenith. You’ll not outrun the gale, and the autopilot has a hard time keeping you in good position to the wind and waves.

We would have hove to if we’d had more warning and more sail up when the mess started. But the wind had played hooky all day, the sea had been mirror calm, and we were complacently motoring with only the mizzen flying to stabilize our trip. Michael had been doing a photo shoot with the big camera of our neighbor’s boat, Thea Renee, as she caught the last of the sun. Dark descended and a full moon slipped in to illuminate a sea that had grown suddenly raucous, with waves slamming against the hull as the wind flipped into high gear.

Before leaving, we’d downloaded grib files and weather reports. En route, we’d received weather reports via SSB radio. No one had mentioned winds higher than 20 or seas higher than 2 to 3 feet. No one had suggested a gale. Sure, one was expected in the northern sea on Sunday, not Friday night. And there was a slight chance of one of those southerly winds that like to mess with the La Paz area, but it would be a light one, blowing no more than 20. Southerly would have pushed us northwest to La Paz. Southerly would have been welcome.

Instead, winds slammed down on us when we were about 50 miles southeast of the channel into Bahia de la Paz. Out of the northwest, they were cold and brutal, giving us no chance to hoist the staysail to park our boat and ride it out. I suppose with more and stronger hands, we might have wrestled with sheets and backwinding, but we didn’t want to let those waves find our beam, which meant Michael had to concentrate on hand steering, while I became ornamental and worried.

I tried not to. I tried to let faith well up in me to give me peace. Eventually it came, but as a work in progress, I don’t get there without effort. I kept remembering the disciples in their rocking boat, and Jesus asking where their faith was. About the same place mine had gone, I’d guess. Still, at least it showed up eventually. And we got through the night, better able to handle things because there was moonlight. Michael was to thank the Lord many times for that illumination.

By daylight, the wind has fallen, blowing between 25 and 33. It continued to lessen. By the time we approached the entrance to the San Lorenzo channel, it was only in the lower twenties, and the waves were much more manageable. Just as the dawn approached, the waves had subsided to the point where the autopilot could take over so that Michael could rest while I kept watch.

It’s over now. We’ve slept and eaten and are anchored at Bahia Falsa, outside of La Paz. The force of pounding waves slamming into the bow pulpit smashed our beautiful new bow blanking as well as the through-bolted anchor lock downs. The only section left on board is a small half moon at the tip of the pulpit and one other small fragment toward the aft section. It’s a testament to the force of the water.

Lunch at Playa Mazatlan

I thought I'd post a few more pictures taken at our latest day out, when we rewarded ourselves after having our skin zapped of funny things at the dermatologist. Poor Michael. He not only zapped the bad guys, but also got a sore on the top of his head.

The restaurant has placed posts about ten feet out from the tables, obviously to keep vendors at bay, but you can look down at the local merchants who ply the beaches. One woman, loaded with shawls, stopped. Really, they were lovely. By the time she'd unloaded the lot, I felt compelled to bargain with her. I came away with a lovely black shawl that has colorful dragonflies on it -- for 130 pesos, whichis close to eleven dollars at today's exchange rate.

In another picture you can see a parasailor coming in for a landing. The pangas take folk up, give them a quick 4-7 minute ride, then drop them off at the beach.

Dangerous place?

News stateside is that Mexico holds extreme danger to us and other visitors. Between drug deals and shoot-outs, kidnappings and theft, one ought to hightail it back to the safety of the good old US of A.

Hmmm...

During our last year in Richmond, CA, there were 43+/- drive-by shootings that took place within a few miles of the marina. We know of no anglo who has been murdered here or experienced theft in Mazatlan, and the only items missing in Ensenada were two pairs of shoes Paul had left on Xanadu's deck. Fine, a dinghy was reported stolen at Bahia Santa Maria, but it was on a long leash and the fishermen there are very poor.

Drug issues exist in many places. But at least here we don't worry that someone will kill us just because they're having a bad day.

Xanadu's Crew

Paul and Tamar and their boat Xanadu, and at Normandie's Birthday dinner at Playa Mazatlan. Also in the dinner picture is Erwin of s/v Thea Renee.

We became friends with Paul and Tamar in Ensenada, and they caught up with us here in Mazatlan. Check out Paul's videos at http://web.mac.com/pecahill/XANADU/Welcome.html

The Vagabond 47 Thea Renee

Thea Renee's owners, Erwin and Phyllis, have lovingly cared for their beautiful boat, especially its gleaming, perfectly varnished teak. This picture captures them sailing through the anchorage at Stone Island, off Mazatlan, with their tanbark sails flying.

We're moving away from varnish and opting for the choice Paul and Tamar made on Xanadu. Paul had tried everything in his years as the owner of a boat with lots of lovely brightwork. Now he uses Semco, which allows the teak to retain its just-sanded look. Much, much easier on the application side. We'll see how it works on Sea Venture's miles of caprail. As I, Normandie, age, I need a less labor-intensive maintenance schedule. We took advantage of the low labor rates here in Mazatlan to get most of the varnish removed. The low rate meant the fellow did the work to his satisfaction, not ours, so we've had to resand all the hard-to-reach areas. We offered to pay more, but that meant harder work. Sorry, said he, as he pocketed his paltry fee and slunk away.

More Mazatlan

Playa Mazatlan is a hotel on the Gold Coast, Zona Dorada, and is a lovely place to go for lunch or dinner. We had my (N's) birthday feast there: six people, drinks, appetizers, lobster for me, and all for about what you pay for two in the States.


The last picture is of the park in the center of the old city, surrounded by restaurants, near the opera house, a couple of blocks from the cathedral and central market.

Winter here is 70 to 80 degrees during the day, then cool nights so we can snuggle under blankets as we sleep. Perfect.

Mama's 81st B-Day Feast

Harker's Island hush puppies, local shrimp and asparagus with a strawberry shortcake for dessert. My mother's almost 93-year-old brother Ecky came to celebrate with us, as did good friends, Susan and Grace.

We journeyed to Charleston to pick up my mother on the 3rd of March, leaving the boat in Mazatlan under the watchful eye of Phyllis and her husband Erwin of the Vagabond 47, Thea Renee. I'll post a picture of it later.

The barber

Here are two pictures of my second haircut in Mazatlan, which took place on the dock between Sea Venture and the Beneteau next to us. The local barber, Luis, epitomizes the best of Mexico. He's courteous, friendly, always smiling, desiring to please, grateful for the business. His daughter does manicures and pedicures, and they travel to RV parks and marinas (and who knows where else) serving those who can afford them -- though for a pittance. Michael declined his services, as he has me to do the honors, but I have twice needed my ponytail trimmed. I sat on the dock on our small stool, donned a bib, handed over my comb, and showed him about how much to cut.

Luis chatted with me in Spanish; I struggled to get entire phrases past my lips, usually reverting to Italian instead. When he was satisfied, he turned to his bag, dug around a little. I thought he might be dragging out a hairdryer. I heard the buzz, then felt the vibration on my back, my neck, my shoulders, even my scalp.

For fifty pesos, or less than five dollars, I not only had my hair cut, but got a massage to go with it. That man got a hefty tip!!

Test Posting

This is to test the distance posting for blogger.

Picture links added

I've added some picture links to the right. Please be patient when you try to view them as Picassa seems to have difficulty with their focus. If you're patient, the pictures will ultimately become clear.

Marina Mazatlan

Here are a few pictures we've taken at the marina. Very lovely, clean, open, friendly--quite different from the town, in which my olfactory sensors rebel. Still, the Mexicans are a delightful folk, so we're very glad to be here.

Still Crossing the Sea

By Friday we were making minimal headway in very light wind and Friday night our boat speed read 00. We kept all sails up in hope that we could at least minimize the drift away from Mazatlan. Then, around midnight, the wind shifted, and though boat speed still read 00, gps speed, which is speed over ground, registered a whopping 1.3 knots. I was on watch, so I pointed us as close to north as I could and kept her moving at the snail's pace onward. By 6AM, we were 6.9 miles from port, but still drifting along at 1.5 to 2 knots. We had all four sails flying with preventers keeping the mizzen and main booms from dancing when in the light winds. A gorgeous day with the promise of landfall.

We were about two miles off the entrance to the jetty when the wind died completely. So near and yet so far. The marina manager, Elvira, had arranged a tow into the marina from the jetty entrance, but we had to get there. Having patched the dinghy in San Jose using 3M 5200 (as suggested by Jim Elvers) we had it to use. Michael lowered it over the side, we attached our 15 hp Johnson outboard, and then he tied the dinghy off to the starboard stern quarter and let it give us propulsion. By now the seas were almost flat, so I drove and he managed the dinghy, and we were able to get just inside the big island. Elvira promised the tow boat would be out soon.

Soon turned into almost two hours. We'd drift for a while, then Michael would start the outboard and I'd steer clear of shallows, then we'd drift and wait. He could climb off the dinghy and over the rails to get back on board and into shade. Lovely being so nimble and strong because he did that about six times.

Finally, the fishing boat arrived. According to the cruising guide, there was 12 feet of water all across the channel. The guide was mistaken even though it is a recent reissue and updated version. The driver didn’t mention the issue of draft. It was quite a shock when we came to a screeching halt, the tow rope jerked his boat around, and we leaned, leaned, turned, crunched, turned toward the wall of rock and breakers, while the radio from the tow boat remained silent. I motioned to the captain to veer away with us with us, to pull us out and not try to drag us through. Finally, he seemed to get the message and Sea Venture freed herself.

And this is why we have a full-keeled boat. A fin keel/spade rudder would have been hard pressed to have gotten out of that mess with no damage.

Across the Sea of Cortez

Tuesday December 9:

Jim Elfers, Marina Manager at Puerto los Cabos (pictures above), suggested we head to Mazatlan for our engine repair—an easy reach, said he, while we’d have a terrible beat up the coast to La Paz with no engine. Okay. When weather predictions from three sources said we'd have 15-20 knots from the NW, slowing by Thursday/Friday, we decided to take off. Jim and a Mexican fellow towed us out on Tuesday at 4PM (waiting for light winds in the marina area so their small boat could maneuver us). We headed out on a close reach, which Jim had predicted, in about 20 knots of wind. No problem.

Except that a couple of hours later as we came out from the protection of the headland, things changed. We shortened sail as the seas mounted (they were supposed to be 1-2 meters. Un-unh. Three meters minimum, off our port quarter and slipping around to our beam when we weren't looking.) We saw sustained winds in the 30s and gusts in the 40s all night. Hold on Nellie! We decided to heave-to and rest as we realized we’d forgotten to take seasick meds and were not happy campers. Dumb. We'd taken medicine for the first two days after leaving Ensenada, but then hadn't needed any. I suppose five days in a marina had made our bodies forget and, boy, were they unhappy. We never actually lost food, only felt like it.

I can’t say we got much rest, though, not with those big square waves slapping and pitching us. Fortunately, that night was the last time we saw wind in the 40's. After that, it stayed between 25-35, so we just used the mizzen and jib. Still, with only two sails, we close reached at 5.5 knots. Sometime during that first day/night, we reread all the grib files and weather predictions just to see if we'd missed something. Nope. They were wrong. We would have happily waited a couple of days if anyone had mentioned big winds. We'd rather have a sail that takes an extra day or two and is comfortable than one that makes you wonder what on earth you're doing. Frankly, this was as bad if not worse than the trip way off the coast coming down from SF. At least by Thursday morning the winds had begun to drop and by evening the seas were more in the 1-2 meter range.

We were finally enjoying ourselves. We had about 12 hours to go at this rate, so we decided shorten sail again before dark and take it easy.

Fortunately with redundant systems in our pilothouse, the person on watch could check the radar on the computer from a prone position across the way (on our pilothouse settee) and then every hour or so stick a head up to look around outside. Much easier than having to gear up to go outside.

We had hoped for quieter winds and sea, and by Thursday night we got our wish. It was so still that we couldn't make landfall, nor could we make any headway in the right direction, so we hove to again. Friday morning we set sail with very light winds, knowing we wouldn't make it to port before dark. So there we sat, enjoying the lovely light breeze, the whales breaching to starboard (and wasn't that a thrill for me to actually see them nearby as well as through the binoculars!), making water, reading, napping in the sun--in December. A lovely, lovely day, reminding us of why we enjoy cruising and helping us forget the beginning of the trip.

A bird roosted on our bow pulpit Thursday night. (I wish I could find the picture of him. Instead, I'm posting one of the pelican who greeted us at Puerto los Cabos.) He was so cute (I'm sorry, I haven't yet figured out what kind he was), but Michael didn't want him leaving calling cards. We tried lights; he didn't budge. Michael got out his lazer beam, which used to send the sea lions diving for cover, but the bird just ignored it. When M. had to go forward to straighten some lines, he decided to do something to get rid of our nester. He waved his arms; the bird tossed his beak and held on. M. clapped from two feet away. The bird looked M. up and down and tucked his head under his wing. It wasn't until we gybed that our friend flew off, returning a short while later when things settled down. They're lovely creatures, but their remnants are very hard to clean off the deck.

a miracle and a test

En Route from Bahia Santa Maria to Cabo San Lucas 12/2/08

You know how sometimes something you’ve just had in your hand all of a sudden disappears? You know it was right there a moment ago. And now it isn’t.

A few days ago, back in Bahia Asuncion, Michael was putting all the parts and pieces together for the watermaker. Ours has two large filter units that together can generate approximately 45 gallons per hour of fresh water. Each filter housing requires two large O rings and two small ones to seal the end plugs. Michael had assembled the first unit and was about to begin the second when he realized that one of the large O rings had vanished. He held one large and two small in his hand and spoke in a voice heavily laced with frustration. “Don’t throw out that trash,” he said as I began separating the paper from the plastic in his overflowing bin.

His first scouring took care of the floor. Then he searched the bilges, the floor again, the desk, the table, his pockets, toolbag, the trash. Nothing.

So, he tested the unit using the one filter and decided he’d have to try to purchase a new O ring in Cabo. No problem, but very, very frustrating. Every spare moment after that was spent sifting through every bag, every crate and box, re-examining the desk, the drawers, the bilge—every place and every thing that had been in the pilot house during the installation. His bilge inspection was thorough and repeated several times using a flashlight to peek into every nook, no matter how far from the watermaker scene. He crawled under the nav station, cleared surfaces, used a headlamp and flashlight.

Nothing.

Okay. You do your best, then you leave it alone. We’d prayed, but figured either God had better things to do than hunt up O rings that were replaceable or we were just too deaf to hear His direction Fine. We’d be in Cabo by the 3rd. A search of parts stores was on the agenda. Considering that we’re water hogs and it takes fuel to run the generator to run the watermaker, he wants as much efficiency as possible from the unit.

We rose early this morning. After breakfast, I checked the Software on Board (linked to the AIS) navigation program on this computer to see what sort of shipping was out there. We got our MaxSea nav program (which is linked to our outside chartplotter/radar) set to go. Michael checked the engine oil, and we donned our outdoor gear.

I was backing into the aft cabin when I heard Michael say, this time surprise registering: “Where did that come from?” He was pointing at the nav station. On the desk top right in front of the computer at which I’d just been working, where we’ve been every day, several times a day doing radio work or navigation checks, where the deck had been cleared several times because of that nagging sense that a big two-inch diameter O ring couldn’t just vanish into thin air. We’d moved the computer—each of us at different times, lifting it, lifting the drawer under it. Picking up every single thing on the surface. But now, in the spot where my hands had been only minutes earlier sat a large O ring. All by itself, out in plain sight, where we couldn’t miss it.

I love the things of God. Even you skeptics have to admit that something unusual happened—unless you think we’re lying.

Michael just verified that he now has two large and two small O rings available. And if that isn’t a miracle, I don’t know what is.

I think of the other times God has raised the axe head for me. Just as he did for Elisha, when the axe head flew off and into the water and God floated it to the surface, the Lord has floated lost things to the surface where I could find them. Or He has whispered to me, telling me where to look when I was about to despair. It seems this time we didn’t get silent enough to hear, so He had to float that O ring right to the top of the desk.

Glory! We serve a great God!!

12/3/08 And now the test begins:

It was a little after 6AM. Michael had just come off his watch and was about 20 minutes into a good sleep when sputter-growl-huff-huff-huff-bang-bang. The engine decided it wanted to quit. We'd been motorsailing in light winds to make it to Cabo in time to do a few clean-up projects before my mother arrived on the 8th. Now, with no engine, we've got to sail. Okay, not a problem. We're a sailboat. And if we take a few hours longer--lots of hours longer--that's fine. Only, what if we can't get the engine fixed or find a place to anchor and try to get parts before Mother arrives? What if she gets to spend her whole vacation in a hotel because the boat is torn up for engine work?

Praise God anyway, right? Amen. He's a big God.

We edge into Cabo among the jet skis, the tour boats, fishing boats, motoring boats of all sorts. Out of our way, folk, we can't change course very quickly! We're looking for the moorings we've read about, but can't see any. The anchoring ledge is between 26 and 42' wide. Deep water, then anchoring water, then beach. If we had an engine, we could drop a stern anchor, then keep the boat sideways to the beach and drop a bow anchor. With 56 feet of boat, we'll be in the surf before we can get the second anchor over. So, we turn and lope out the bay. We'll try a marina up the coast.

We call them. Yes, they have a place if we can get inside their jetties. They can help bring us in if we get there early enough.

We don't. Now the wind has dropped and we're down to less than 2 knots to go 15 miles. Michael wants us to edge up to the jetty, just to take a look, but then smartly decides that we're way, way too tired from night watches to try anything that smacks of heroics. Instead, we head back out into the Sea and heave to. This allows us to set sails so we don't go anywhere, except a slight .8 knots and drifting. I volunteer to sleep on deck so that M., whose job will be troubleshooting the engine, can get a full night's sleep.

It's lovely under the stars. Fishing boats are out there, plying their trade several miles away. I set an alarm so I can look around every so often. It's quiet all night, though around midnight I need more than just two blankets. As dawn approaches, I wake M. and we set the sails for shore. We've drifted further than we wanted because the wind changed in the night from the southeast to the norhtwest. There's not much wind now, barely enough to tack the boat, but we do and have a leisurely sail, gybing back and forth, toward shore. The dockmaster brings a fishing boat out to tow us, bringing us in easily.

So here we are at Puerto los Cabos Marina in San Jose de Cabo. It's quite a high end marina, though still under construction. We're the poor folk on the block, but we still have to pay big boat prices. This wasn't in the budget, but we're not going to worry about it. The Lord always provides.And we believe He has a purpose in all things, so we give Him praise.

As I've been writing this, M has discovered that we have more than a head gasket issue. One of the pistons shot a valve and destroyed a cylinder.That's a picture of the cylinder up there. Oh, me. But, hey, glory anyway.

I'm looking forward to figuring out what's next.