I Sail Away

I was waiting happily for crew to arrive, and for the right weather window, and planning for everything to be just right.  But, with TWO potential tropical storms (according to NOAA) brewing in the south of Mexico, it is time to go.

The first storm is brewing off the coast of Acapulco, and the second one a bit further down.  The first has a 20% chance of turning into a hurricane, and it is traveling West, North-West–basically, towards Hawaii.  The second storm went from a 10% chance to a 20% chance, and is traveling North, North-West.  Neither of them currently are pointed towards the Baja . . . but, that could always change, and I am not taking any chances.

Marishanna sets sail tomorrow in the early morning hours.  Yesterday, I provisioned the boat.  Today is diesel, water and all the last little bits that need to happen, and tomorrow before dawn, we set sail for California.  The goal is to be above latitude 27 in roughly three days (approximately 300nm).  Fortunately, the weather looks decent – to good, and even more fortunately, I will be buddy-boating with some neighbors from Alameda (literally, other liveaboards from the same dock, even) and, I think they are sharing one of their crew with me for at least the first part of the trip.

More updates soon . . . .

I am looking for a few good sailors for the return trip. The details of the boat are on this blog, and I will provision the boat–you must simply cover your flight expenses to Cabo San Lucas, and return transportation to your home town.

The trip from Cabo San Lucas to San Diego has no place to get off, although we will be stopping in Bahia Santa Maria, Turtle Bay, and Ensenada for our final check-out of the country–with the possibility of other stops along the way to avoid bad weather. Your help on this stretch of the trip would be for the duration of the Cabo to San Diego leg. Of course, you will have to suffer vistas like this . . . but, you will have your share of watches, too. 4-hour watches during the daylight, and 2-hour watches at night–and, we will be fishing the entire trip.

If we were to sail straight through without stopping, and with perfect weather, it could take optimistically 6 days to get to San Diego. Realistically, it will be more like 10 – 12 days–and, if we have to wait out bad weather, or mechanical problems, it could be another 3 – 5 days on top of that.

Once in San Diego, we will be there for a few days to visit friends, re-provision the boat, and check into the country. The legs are much shorter once we are back in the US–San Diego to Morro Bay (with the possibility of stops at Catalina, and Point Conception between), Morro Bay to Monterey, and Monterey to SF.

If you are interested in getting some sea miles under your belt, please contact me through the website, or email me directly at: timothy@isailaway.net

My cousin was down to be my crew member for the return trip, and after more than a few delays, he ran out of time. Rather than taking the trip solo, I am still here in Cabo–waiting for additional crew. Perhaps another two weeks for me down here until departure time . . . .

More later!

Not everything about sailing is fun, although even the not-so-fun parts can be fun with the right mindset. That is what I kept telling myself through the whole process of repairing the dinghy. The poor little guy had been ferrying us sailors, first the four of us, and now myself, to and from the marina, onto beaches, through crashing surf for weeks and finally, one of his seams let loose.

It came as sort of an emergency. I awoke and was taking my morning survey of what happened while I was sleeping, and heard a loud hiss coming from the dinghy tied to the stern. Even in my groggy state, warning signals blared the full “A-OOOOOGH-A” and raised a general alarm. A 65-pound motor sits on the back of that dinghy, and that hissing noise meant that if I did not do something right away, there might be the opportunity to recover both the dinghy and that motor from the ocean floor . . . .

So, first things first: a quick moment of thought and planning. A big hole would make a “whoosh”–this was a “hiss” and a relatively small hole and most likely only on one side (the two tubes are separate). I would have at least 30 – 45 minutes to resolve this. The biggest problem is getting the 65-pound motor onto the boat–up to my chest when I stand in the dinghy. Was there some mechanical advantage I could use? For example, could I rig a sling and use the end of the boom or a masthead halyard to hoist it up?

I could do all of those things, if I had planned for it. Right now, I would simply have to lift it up and plop the motor on its side on the deck. The longer this process takes, the less air that would be in the dinghy, and the harder this whole thing is going to be. And, with that, the planning phase officially ended.

Cut away the tape that keeps the lifeline gates closed, and open the gate on the port side. Unhook the gas can and put all of the miscellaneous dinghy stuff onto the sailboat. Start the motor without the gas can attached–to burn all of the remaining gas in the engine. (It will be a few days, and gasoline sitting inside the motor will rot out the internals of a motor.) Unscrew the motor clamps, heave, and . . . before I knew it, the motor was already sitting on the deck. Another heave, and the dinghy was sitting on the foredeck, too–already folding awkwardly like a partially-deflated beach toy.

The repair process was not so bad. It took a day for the dinghy to dry out (and for me to scrape the creepy-crawlies off the bottom). It took another day or so for me to select the right dinghy repair kit from the local chandleries. It seems that there is really no in-between when it comes to these kits. There are the cheap “patches” that should actually be used for your partially-deflated beach toy, and then full-blown, serious dinghy repair kits with two-part glues, etc. I opted for the latter because I do not want to spend my time down here repairing dinghies. Do it once, do it right, and get on with your trip . . . .

I cleaned the surface of the dinghy to be repaired with acetone, cut the patch to the correct size, and mixed a portion of the two-part glue. Taped around the area for the patch, painted the surface, let dry for 5 minutes, applied the patch, press really hard for a few minutes, and then clean up the excess glue–while it is still wet. And, then wait . . . for 24 whole hours. All of the remaining glue got used to lovingly coat the seams that had started to pull open in places from the years of use.

I waited the full day, reversed the get-the-dinghy-out-of-the-water process, and was free, once again, to dinghy away from the sailboat–unfettered by the cares of the world (with the exception of that big wave threatening to splash you).

While I certainly missing all of you at Christmas this year, I had an interesting opportunity for a unique way to celebrate the holiday this year.

On Christmas Eve, I recognized another Baja Ha-ha participant–Captain Bob. He sailed down on his 52-foot Beneteau sailboat, named L’Atitude 32. He is a licensed Captain, has chosen to winter down here in Mexico, and has gone through all of the hoops to run his charter business out of Cabo San Lucas. Both down here without our respective families, we decided that we would go fishing on Christmas and do what sailors do–sail.

The boat is luxurious, to say the least. The interior is huge, has an entertainer’s kitchen, a horseshoe-shaped dining table that seats 8 people, two aft cabins (each with their own bathroom and shower), and a gigantic master suite amidship–which corresponds nicely to the most comfortable, least rolling, and most quiet place on the ship. The dark blue hull and ultra-white topsides are recognizable even from a distance.

We met a little after 10am, packed up the gear, and motored out of the harbor. Not far past the famous rocks of Land’s End, we rigged our fishing gear, tossed the lures overboard, and spooled out some line to get them popping at just the right distance behinds us–the irresistible siren’s song singing to the fish swimming below. And, we settled into the important tasks in Mexico: selecting the right music, and what will I be drinking today.

It was, in fact, our original intent to fish all day. The seas were flat, and there was a mild breeze. Neither of us has a schedule–so, if we fished all day, that would be fine. On our two fishing poles, we dragged a cedar plug, a painted cedar plug, a couple of jigs, and later a spoon. Captain Bob got a nice hit on one of his lures. We slowed and waited and the fish took another nibble. And, then, nothing. So, we returned to our conversation and kept fishing.

We made a nice, arcing loop outside of the Bahia Cabo San Lucas. We headed west for a almost an hour, then due south off-shore, and finally circled around back towards Cabo. Just as we had turned back towards Cabo San Lucas, a humpback whale surfaced about 20 feet off the starboard side of the boat. A nice, benign visitor wondering what two sailors were doing in his or her territory on Christmas Day. We quickly decided to reel in the fishing gear and spend the rest of the day whale watching.

That magnificent humpback whale proceeded to put on a show for the next three hours that was absolutely spectacular. Full, out of the water, breeches. Giant splashes. The picturesque tail before the deep dive. It was phenomenal–and, a superb way to spend Christmas. If we had only figured out how to transport the entire family and an apple pie, or two down here–it would have been complete!

Captain Bob charters his boat, and it is a classy, full-service experience. You can go whale watching (they will be here through March), snorkeling, or enjoy a sunset, cocktail cruise–the food, drinks and gear are provided. You can reach him through his website at www.daysailcabo.com, by email: bob@daysailcabo.com, by phone (US): 858-442-2233, or phone (local, Cabo San Lucas): 624-18-24-924

Just found this REALLY great blog about cruising . . . .

http://www.getlostonpurpose.com/

6am came really early this morning. In fact, it was so early, our alarm clocks even missed it (and we all overslept). But, rise we did, and as a race crew, we are already intimately familiar with rigging the boat on the way to the startline. Fortunately, we discovered that the Grand Poobah responsible for the the start had, in fact, overslept, as well. Suddenly, we were like students who were late, but not really–the teacher was behind us . . . .

We had, in fact, rigged most of the boat the day and night before. All of the boat chores were completed. Things were secured. Other things were stowed. It was a pretty tight ship to begin with. In the darkness, however, I spotted the topping lift tha had snaked its way part of the way up the mast–and, that problem required sending someone aloft–and, Nathan was our guy.

After retrieving the topping lift, the wind was already following us and we wanted that spinnaker up as soon as possible. The Grand Poobah informed the fleet that we would have a rolling start, and we got that spinnaker up and the motor off immediately following.

What would transpire over the next few days had a dreamy, surreal quality to it. Nathan caught a second Yellowfin Tuna for the boat–not 45 minutes after sunrise. (We cleaned it immediately, but saved it for lunch/dinner. Sushi at 7am is a bit much.) The wind held steady at the low end of Marishanna’s performance range, and continued to build over the course of the next day and a half.

By the time our nighttime racing came around, the winds were blowing a steady 18knots. The waves were perfect. The angle of the wind was just right. We were holding at a steady pace of 10knots–it was phenomenal. We were smoking.

And, so was the entire fleet. We were all enjoying this perfect sailing weather: high speeds, comfortable rides, warm weather. All of us were ooohing and ahhhing each other on the radios . . . .

As we pulled within 20 miles of Cabo San Lucas, the wind came to a halt. Zero. Nothing. The water became a mirror. Our sails were limp. There wasn’t even a dark patch of water to chase.

In situations like this, the symptoms of someone affected with the racing affliction become most evident. The cruisers would say something along the lines of, “Hey, that wind was good while it lasted and got us really close. Time to turn on the engine. We’ll be there by breakfast.” It is a simple and practical statement. They are thankful for what they got.

Our response is akin to that child sitting at the table who won’t eat his brussel sprouts. “We are NOT turning on the motor. We’ll be disqualified from the sail-only division.” Period. Final. No arguments–from any of us.

And, so we sat. We watched as the cruisers motored past us. Fortunately, no one was close enough to wave, or say kindly things. But, we watched all the boats that he had worked so hard to overtake motor by and beat us to the showers and to breakfast.

And, we continued to sit. After about an hour, we got about 1 knot of boatspeed. And, then it was up to 2.5 knots, and then it was a little higher. All in all, it took us 6 hours to finish the remaining 20 miles to the finish line–our record-shattering attempts were in shambles, but our principles were intact.

We turned on the motor, gave the steering to Otto von Helm (our Auto Pilot), and the four of us sat on the foredeck, cracked beers, poured our offerings to King Neptune, and toasted a fantastic sail from San Diego to Cabo San Lucas, Mexico.

Over the Single Sideband Radio, we had been hearing about a Singles Party. I thought it was a bit odd, but was waited to pass judgement until I learned the details. That morning, over the daily check-in, and after all of other business was concluded, we heard a bit more about the party.

The holder of the party made a direct pleading to boat owners. He said that this party is organized on your behalf. You have picked up your additional crew members to sail with you on the trip. Tonight, would be a great time to take those crew members, send them over to the three rafted-up sailboats with a bottle of booze, and in return, give yourselves a couple of hours of privacy. If you know what I mean?

Once the encrypted words floated on the airwaves, I understood.

Send your kids. Send your crew members. And, you get to have the boat to yourself . . . it’s been a few days, and your on vacation, right?

Nathan and I went over to the party–as we were the only ones who were single, but we quickly found out that we may have also been the only boat adhering to the “singles” part of the party. It was a party for everyone with a lot of alcohol, loud music, and a little dancing on three rafted-up boats (complete with sparkly Christmas-party lights) in an absolutely gorgeous setting . . . .

Bahia Santa Maria is pristine–like a postcard, actually. It is less than a 100 miles from the larger Mexican port, Magdelena Bay, but rather than deal with all of the bustle and crowds, Bahia Santa Maria is quiet–idyllic almost.

After catching up on our sleep, we awoke to a beautiful, peaceful bay. I popped my head out of the hatch (before even having a cup coffee) and went up on deck. The water was like a mirror. A dorado (Mahi-mahi) was chasing a school of smaller fish, and he/she (couldn’t tell) came swimming by as if it were a dolphin: breaking the surface of the water, down into the water, out of the water again, and back down again. The dorado in its rhythms did this between our boat and another one for a couple hundred yards. It was beautiful.

Apparently the town was hit really hard by hurricane this summer. The recent rains associated with the storm are what caused the hills to turn green. The local fisherman, to my understanding, fish here during the week and stay in some improvised housing, and on the weekends, drive back to wherever their homes and families. Of course, there are some who live her permanently, but not many. The only sign of humans from the harbor, in fact, were these dozen or so improvised buildings and a slightly larger structure that I believe was the “town bar.”

We were excited about 2 full days of rest and relaxation (while the rest of the fleet catches up). There were a few chores (our dinghy needed a bit of repair), and, a couple of social events. But, for now, we were excited to take in the scenery and relax.