We left Ensenada after breakfast on Saturday, November
28. We were hardly past the dock when
Doug noticed something wrong with the propeller so we turned back. There was a diver on the docks servicing
another boat and we thought our luck was with us, but it turned out to be a
double edged sword. For $100.00USD the
diver took less than five minutes to ascertain there was a ball of line wrapped
around the propeller and remove it.
Although we were grateful to be on our way again within the hour, and
that Doug did not have to enter the dubious water, we still felt a little like
we had been ripped off.
As I mentioned in my daily posts en route, we had a variety of
sailing conditions on our way to Turtle Bay.
From motoring in relatively calm conditions, to galloping along in 25+
winds we were kept busy managing the boat throughout our day and night
watches. We continued to have the .5 to
1 knot current against us and this current, combined with tides and wind, kicked
up a very uncomfortable sea in the passage between Cedros Island and Turtle
Bay. We passed the San Benitos Islands
in a rosy dawn remembering from our previous trip how extraordinary a place it is.
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| Isla San Bonitos in the dawn |
We were making better time on this passage than we had
expected and, as we neared our destination, we believed we would arrive just at
dusk. However, we were about to learn
that bad luck happens in 3s, and there are silver linings. About two hours before dark we were sailing
along at 6 knots when we picked up a trap line which tangled itself in our
rudder. After heaving to we used our
extended boat hook to get most of it off, but were left with about 8 feet of
line flowing behind, making it next to impossible to back up without wrapping
it around our propeller. (We usually
back up to set the anchor.) With all the
fussing about freeing ourselves we lost valuable visual time and realized we
would now be anchoring in the dark, dragging the line. Luckily, Turtle Bay is an enormous anchorage
without too many hazards. However, when
I went to drop the anchor, the windlass down switch did not respond – it had
broken. However, after consultation,
Doug was able to drop the anchor from the cockpit switch while I stayed to the side watching for the 10 meter marks on the
chain with my headlamp. In the end, we
dropped way more chain than we could ever have needed, right smack in the
middle of the bay, far from where the other boats had come to rest.
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| Anchorage at Turtle Bay - village along the shoreline |
In the early morning light, Doug donned his mask, jumped
into the 22 degree clear water, and was able to hold his breath long enough
under the boat to cut us free from our unwanted tail. After a hot breakfast he was in the anchor
locker replacing the switch circuit, soldering wire while Ka’sala pitched up
and down in a 20 knot breeze and two foot wind chop.
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| Not too impressed |
By lunch time we were ready to move into the main anchorage where there
were about 7 other sailboats waiting to make passage north and south. One of them remarked as we came in that we
had won the prize for the most cautious entrance! That afternoon we launched the dinghy and
headed to the fuel dock with our three jerry cans which we filled with very
expensive diesel ($5.00 US pg) and returned to Ka’sala without ever going
ashore.
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| Fuel dock - well, fuel pier - we brought the jerry cans up this ladder. |
The next morning we left after
breakfast for Bahia Santa Maria with gusty 25 knot winds howling through the harbour
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| Dusk at Turtle Bay |
Once we were around the corner and on our way south again,
the winds settled down and we had a spectacular sail for the 49 hours it took us to
reach Bahia Santa Maria. The days continued
sunny and warm and the nights starry and clear.
The water temperature inched up by degrees. We dressed in shorts and T shirts, wearing
only light sweaters when the sun went down.
In the late afternoon on the second day we were crossing a large bay
with clouds overhead and no land in sight, coasting along in flat seas at four
knots on a beam reach. When the sun set,
there was such an explosion of colour that I felt we were in the heart of an
enormous natural prism. To the west thin
layers of gradual colour in the yellow to red spectrum were revealed and to the
east the light undulated intense to pale blue, rose, purple, and green while the
dome of the sky reflected a light white and the sea mirrored it all. As these vibrant colours faded, a brilliant
quarter moon arose among an indescribable number of stars and shining
planets. All night we watched the
constellations move from east to west across the glossy sky. I find it hard to
express the emotion I felt as I sat alone in the cockpit, but it was like a
religious experience, a revelation that cannot be put in words and certainly
cannot be captured in a photograph.
We didn’t see a lot of wildlife on this passage, though I
expected we might see a lot of whales as we were transitting their great birthing place. The three large lagoons on the
bay are where the grey whales migrate to in the fall. From mid December until the end of February
they bear their young and nurture them, court and conceive, before returning
north for the summer. We saw a few
spouts in the distance, but that was about it.
On the morning of the second day, we did have a tiny visitor – a small
bird of some sort – 5 inches long, predominantly yellow in colour with some
black and white striping through it. Its
little beak curled like a budgie’s.
After giving us a frank and curious look, It hopped from the dodger, to
the rigging, to the lifelines and finally settled at the base of the mast where
it rode along with us for a few hours before disappearing as mysteriously as it
arrived. We were about 20 miles off
shore, so it was a long flight!
That
same morning we saw our first frigate birds circling in the sky. These elegant flyers, with enormous black
wings and a long, trailing tail, were a clear indication that we were now in a
different climate zone.
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| Magnificent frigates |
We rounded the spectacular break off Point Hughes at Bahia
Santa Maria about noon on the second day and dropped the hook in translucent,
26 degree, green water in about 8 meters. We could clearly see the bottom.
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| Approaching Bahia Santa Maria - Point Hughes to the right |
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| To put the landscape in perspective - can you see the lighthouse on the left? Look for the tiny white speck. |
Once Ka’sala was squared away we had a marvellous swim
around the boat – so different from the last time we were here, at the same
time of year five years ago, when we were dressed in our woollies. Nothing feels quite so wonderful as a fresh
water shower in the cockpit in skin temperature air.
We stayed in Bahia Santa Maria for three days. Several sailboats and powerboats came and
went while we were there - the huge bay is a major staging point in the
journey up and down the Pacific Baja.
There are a couple of rustic Mexican fish camps behind the break in the
lagoon at the head of the bay. Each day
the pangas zoomed in and out to tend their traps and go
fishing. Twice while we were off the
boat we saw a panga stop to sell us some fish, and were chagrined at not being
able to make a purchase.
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| Ka'sala at anchor in Bahia Santa Maria |
We launched the kayaks to explore the bay, something we had
been wanting to do since our last visit.
Doug wanted to go into the lagoon, but when we approached the break and
fast current I lost my nerve.
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| Doug views the breaks at the entrance to the lagoon |
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| Fishing panga entering the lagoon |
Instead,
we followed the shoreline and reefs almost out to the point. There were some pretty big swells coming in
and our Costco kayaks rolled up and down them.
We observed birds, hovered over lobster traps and picked out potential
landing points for the walk we would do next day.
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| Pelicans and cormorants on the reef nearby |
Next morning, armed with backpacks, sunscreen, a packed
lunch, multiple bottles of water and camera we headed ashore. It is a lot easier to draw kayaks up on the
beach than a dinghy, so we were on our way without fuss. We walked along the ridge, past the breaks
and by the little fish camps in the lagoon.
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| Fish camp in the lagoon - note huge area of dunes in the background - the beach was on the other side of them |
It was a Sunday morning, so things were quiet, though we did see some men
working on their nets and traps, a shy woman waved hello from one of the shacks
and we could see evidence of children by some of the toys scattered around, but
did not actually meet one.
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| Looking toward the anchorage over the mangroves in the lagoon |
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| By the mangroves on the dusty path |
We continued
on the access road, which is little more than a sandy track, to the enormous
beach on the other side. When we visited
it five years before we found partially decomposed whales, this time, other
than the last remains of a sea lion carcass we only found the white washed
bones of long dead animals, as well as the sad remains of a wrecked sailboat
and freighter.
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| Sad end to a sailboat - we think this is the remains of the boat that initially went aground during the 2010 Baja Ha Ha. |
It was hot and the sun pounded down on us. We were partway along the beach when we heard
the noise of an engine and looked up to see a full sized 80’s Ford Bronco
barrelling down the beach toward us. I
must admit I was first a little frightened when I saw it coming, filled with Mexican men. We were
pretty isolated out here. But they
turned out to be very friendly and well spoken.
One of them spoke English very well and said that when they saw us that
they were concerned we may be in trouble – hurt, or without water. When they realized we were fine, they suggested we
check out a sea lion rookery further back and were on their way. I expect it might have been shift change at
the fish camp! After our picnic we
trudged back to the boat. Even though we
had brought four bottles of water with us, we were still dehydrated when we got
back. However, after a cooling swim, a warm cockpit shower and
an ice cold beer, we were felt fine.
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| Salting fish indigenous style |
We were feeling the tug to move on and the weather forecast
continued to be favourable. We lifted
anchor, after listening to the weather on the Sonrisa Net, and headed for Cabo
San Lucas at the very tip of the Baja peninsula. Thankfully, this was an unremarkable passage
– half we sailed, half we motored – rounding Land’s End just after sunset on
Tuesday, December 8.
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| Cruise ship passing us in the early morning - this beomouth would later crowd up the bay at Cabo |
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| Approaching Cabo Falso |
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| Approaching Land's End |
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| Resorts, condos and mega homes line the Cape |
Cabo is such a
shock to the senses after travelling 700 miles of isolated Baja – extensive
housing and resort developments, lights, noise, boats everywhere. We came into the bay to see an enormous
cruise ship obscuring the anchorage. By
the time we were ready to drop the hook it was dark and it took a bit of work to pick out a free
space as there were about a dozen boats in – some with lights,
some without. The tourist havens along
the beach were pumping out music full blast and boats floating past flashed
coloured lights while writhing figures danced to 70’s disco tunes on
their foredecks. Surreal!
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| Anchorage at Cabo |
Right after breakfast the next morning we launched the
dinghy and headed into the marina. We
left it at a dock under security for $3 USD.
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| Marina area at Cabo San Lucas |
We walked along pristine streets, so unlike Ensenada, and headed to the
outskirts - looking for a large grocery store where we could provision in one
stop. We found a new MEGA and were delighted to discover it had even more North American products than it had five years
before. The other pleasant surprise was
to see that the prices were also a lot more reasonable than they had been in the U.S.A. Perhaps our budget would stretch a little
farther here? Loaded with groceries, we caught a local bus for 13 pesos
back to the marina. Once everything was
tidied away we went for a swim in 27 degree sapphire blue water – almost too
warm to be refreshing! After an early
dinner we went straight to our bunks after setting the alarm for a midnight
departure.
Traversing the East Cape of the Baja presents its own
special series of problems and sailors must be mindful of them in order to have
a comfortable passage to La Paz.
Contrary currents, tides and winds, combine to make very uncomfortable
and sometimes dangerous sea conditions.
The prevailing winds are right on the nose and can accelerate as the day
progresses, whipping up waves like brick walls.
We had a 2 day forecast of winds under 15 knots, so we decided to make a
run for it and get as far as we could.
We left Cabo just after midnight and motorbeat our way along, passing the
Los Frailes anchorage just after dawn and continuing on to Los Meurtes to
arrive late afternoon.
We were in the
company of ½ a dozen other boats making the same decision. All of us spent a quiet evening in Los
Meurtes. We were up again at 2am, this
time with the idea we would push all the way up the Cerravelo and Lorenzo
Channels to Bahia San Gabriel on Espiritu Santo. The plan worked flawlessly, and as we entered
the bay of La Paz, we heaved a big sigh of relief, shut down the engine,
unfurled the headsail and enjoyed an hour of quiet, easy sailing before picking
our way into the deep anchorage at the southern corner of Bahia San Gabriel. What an enormous sense of relief to have
arrived at the destination we had envisaged when leaving Comox six months
before. It was Wednesday, December 11
and we had travelled almost 1000 challenging miles in under two weeks. Yes, I guess we deserve a rest!
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| Ispiritu Santo - San Gabriel is the large bay at the lower right |
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| Ariel view of Bahia San Gabriel - yes - the colour is just like that! |
