It’s hard for me to believe that just a few days ago, I was sitting on the back of a whale off the coast of the Mexican Riviera. Things have been moving so quickly that there has been little time to write much more about the Wendaway leg of this adventure. So I’ll back up here and fill in a few gaps.
When I arrived in La Paz on Minggat, I put the word out on the cruiser’s net that I was willing to crew for someone who might be heading to the mainland, and Mark, Wendaway’s skipper responded. He was looking for crew to help him take the boat, a cutter-rigged Norseman 44, from La Paz to Puerto Vallarta. He had already recruited Frank, a friend of a friend, who was flying in from San Diego, and he needed one other person to make the trip comfortable. We met, exchanged expectations and sailing resumes, and I came on board on the 26th.
Frank arrived on the 26th after Mark and I had done some grocery shopping, and we took off on the 27th after Mark had given us his customary safety briefing and we had stowed our gear. So, from the beginning, we were three perfect strangers, brought together by our mutual love of sailing. Frank had a lot of experience with local and offshore racing out of San Diego, but had never done any serious cruising. Mark had owned many boats over the years, and had spent a few years sailing in Mexico. I was looking forward to doing a passage that would require night watches, since I anchor up every night in my northwest cruising. I had expected a simple 3 day passage, but Mark was interested in making the experience a true cruising adventure, with side trips to Isla Isabel, San Blas and Chacala. Both Frank and I were overwhelmed with Mark’s hospitality, his organization and his genuine interest in making sure that the trip was fun and safe for all of us.
As a former OD consultant, I appreciated the fact that Mark convened the morning meeting to allow everyone to lay out their hopes and objectives for the trip, as well as the strengths that they were bringing to the team and what they wanted to learn. I was really happy to hear about Frank’s racing experience, esp. when he said that he was the mainsail trimmer – mainsail trim is something I want to learn more about, since my first boat was junk-rigged. Over the course of our trip, we had a few intervals of fairly boisterous sailing, and there was never a time when I did not feel confident in the abilities of the people I was working with to sail the boat. When I reported weather helm in 30-knot winds, Frank and Mark were right on the main, working together to reef the sail and increase twist to spill the wind. We were all conscientious about clipping into the jack lines whenever we went forward to clear a fouled line or set up a preventer. And it was very satisfying to have Mark say how much he appreciated having people on board who knew what they were doing.
There was really only one time when we had any kind of scramble, and even that is kind of humorous…Single Side Band radios use a lot of power when they are transmitting, and transmission quality is affected by inverters and refrigerators. So, those appliances have to be turned off when transmitting…requiring everyone to remember to turn them on again. Unbeknownst to me, Mark’s SSB consumes enough power when transmitting to trip the circuit breaker for the autopilot. So three days out, Frank and I were in the cockpit chatting while the autopilot silently shifted the helm to left or right to keep us on course. Sitting under the canopy, engrossed in conversation, shielded from the sun, with no land in sight, we were startled when the boat suddenly jibed and we realized that the boat was no longer on course. Frank and I scrambled to tack the back-winded genoa, and tack again to get us back on course before we could figure out what had happened. Mark, hearing the commotion above decks, poked his head out to find out what was going on, and realized that he’d blown the autopilot breaker when he’d decided to participate in an SSB conversation. From then on, I kept my ears peeled for SSB static when I was on watch!
The Mexican Riviera has been an unexpected pleasure, much different from the arid Baja coast. The mainland landscapes are lush and jungly. Instead of craggy, iron rich mountains, there are rolling foothills, cloaked in a verdant tapestry of banana plants, coconut palms, mango trees and mangroves. From the water, viewed through a haze of humidity, it looks like the coastline Gilligan dreamed of. Although Baja is a desert, the daytime winds and nighttime cooling meant that I needed a jacket more often than not. On the mainland side, by contrast, we swam daily from the boat and showered on the back deck. That’s cruising in the tropics.
Arriving in San Blas, after the whale adventure, Frank and I spent an afternoon scrubbing the water line and diving on the rudder to scrape off barnacles. Mark was reluctant to leave the boat unattended, so he ferried us into the town and I had ample opportunity to practice my Spanish picking up a few groceries. While in town, Frank and I hired a panga to take us through the mangrove swamp, where we saw a variety of tropical birds as well as at least a dozen crocodiles. Unfortunately, 2 of the boats in the anchorage with us had their dinghies stolen overnight. Outboard theft is a problem in Mexico and cruisers are cautioned to bring dinghies up on deck or into davits overnight. It can ruin your day when you find out that you now have no way to get to shore.
The last leg of our passage was a fitting sendoff. We left Mantenchen anchorage with a light southerly and soon found ourselves in 25 knots from the SE. As the wind built and the gusts came in at 30 and 35 knots, we put on life jackets and shortened sail for a boisterous ride to La Cruz. Along the way, we were treated to the sight of dolphins swimming alongside, as well as humpbacks breaching, spouting, sounding and enjoying their time in the south. I wondered if any of them were the same ones I had seen in Icy Strait in 2008. Frank was clearly no longer on the humpbacks’ black list, as he saw them all as well.
And then the trip was over. With Wendaway tied to the dock in La Cruz, we pitched in to scrub the boat, wash salt spray off the stainless, do laundry and vacuum cushions and carpets. Frank took a taxi to the airport, dropping me off in Puerto Vallarta on the way.
I’m now finishing this entry over breakfast in Guadalajara – a word I LOVE to say! The silent G and silent J, and the rhythm of the word evoke Mexico for me, even though I have never been here before. Arriving in mid afternoon, I only had time for a walk around the historical central district close to my lovely colonial hotel.
What a city! Founded in 1530, this city of 6,000,000 astonished me with its vibrant inner city life. There are more church bells per block than Starbucks in Seattle. Standing on any corner, I could see church spires every direction, all of them centuries old. Cast iron benches line the plazas, occupied by ardent lovers, book-bound students and old folks feeding the ubiquitous pigeons. The city literally teems with life – people selling, walking, arguing, preaching, photographing…the energy is amazing.
Today I head for Guanajuato, again by bus, to start another two-week immersion program.
