With the exception of a distinct lack of wind, I couldn't have written a better script for today. This place is so beautiful, all around.... Every island I see, every experience I have here in the Sea of Cortez makes this sailing trip that much more special. I'm so glad I decided to bring the boat to Guaymas instead of bashing back to San Diego.
Why the touchy-feely stuff tonight? Well, it's not actually Sunday anymore, Mother's Day, it's Monday morning at 1 am and I've finally arrived at Agua Verde after 16 perfect hours of motoring (sometimes, even motoring can be perfect). The wind was still absent today, which has forced me to redirect my northbound voyage to Puerto Escondido so I can refuel before crossing the Sea to Guaymas. I didn't count on the wind being so light, so I didn't worry about filling the jerry jugs in Cabo, though I'm not sure another 4 jugs (20 gallons) would have kept me from having to fuel up again, anyway.I left this morning from Isla Espiritu Santo after waking up to a calm, flat morning. Chemistry was the only boat in sight, the large motor yacht from yesterday having left shortly after I posted my last entry. I didn't mess around, as I knew I'd have plenty of flat calm periods along the way for coffee and breakfast. So I pulled up anchor, motored southeast to give Punta Lobos plenty of space, and then headed north. The beach where I stayed, by the way, Playa Bonanza, if you care to follow along on Google Maps, is close to 24 26.3 N, 110 18.1 W. I didn't save my track, otherwise I could be more exact. And looking at the nautical chart only gets me close (most Mexican charts being a mile or so off, unless they've been more recently surveyed like the commercial port areas).On my way north I crossed paths with a big freighter headed from La Paz to Guaymas, and using my AIS I calculated that we were going to be pretty close as he crossed in front of me headed for open water. I slowed down, and then at 4 miles noticed that he seemed to be slowing down, also. I wanted to make sure he wasn't waiting for me to go first, so I radioed him and let him know I had him on AIS and if we both continue our present course and speed he'd pass safely about a mile in front of me. He was cool with that.Anyway... all was well. I was motoring along, eating, drinking coffee, watching "Lawrence of Arabia," and then the fishing reel started spooling. It took me 10 minutes to bring in a big (15-20 pound) black skipjack. I popped the barbless hook out of his mouth and off he went. It was a fun fight, though. A short while later, same thing: a good fight followed by disappointment that it was yet another black skipjack. At that point I decided that those waters were too heavy with black skipjacks, and since my fishing confidence was low for anything but gross fish, I felt like I wasn't going to get a dorado anyway. I pulled in the line and just motored along.Like I said in my entry yesterday, I'd decided I'd like to stop tonight before sundown, so the best place seemed to be Isla Santa Cruz, where there's a small anchor symbol in the Rains guide around the middle of the island at 25 16.7 N, 110 42.5 W. As I was heading that direction, I decided to pop the line back in the water, but this time I let it go waaaaaay back there about 80 yards or so. Well, while I was putting my camera away after taking some pictures of the beautiful islands, the reel started spooling *hard*. I hustled over to it and saw the fish jump, and knew this was no skipjack. Skipjacks don't jump. This baby surfaced, flared its dorsal fin, shook its head and tried to spit the lure. Even from 100 yards away, I could see it was a dorado, and a big one.
I went around the tip of Isla Santa Cruz and got some amazing photos of that island and the sunset, and then started filleting the dorado. Soon after sunset, and after all but one of the fillets was in the freezer (the last was on a plate, seasoned with salt, garlic salt and butter), I set my course for here, Agua Verde, which doesn't mean "green water" in this case, but means the color turquoise. I ate my dorado with some rice (it was spectacular) and then, in another little bit of perfection, as I was approaching the reef at san Marcial Point, I had my head out the cockpit window and was startled by a jumping dolphin. By this time it was dark, 10pm, with just moonlight, and seeing that dolphin jump completely out of the water near my bow was a thrill (after I got over being startled). That jump was followed by about five more jumps by the same dolphin and probably others as they played with me for a minute or so.After the dolphins went on their way, I needed to concentrate. Coming into an unfamiliar anchorage in Mexico, especially a well-protected one like this with rocks and cliffs all around, is slightly nerve-wracking in the daytime with charts being off by up to 2 miles. At midnight, with the half-moon playing hide-and-seek in the clouds, it's scary and challenging, and good proof that in Mexico, your radar is an immensely important piece of equipment.Successfully anchoring after navigating the rocks and unlit reef (there's a light, but it wasn't working), was the capper to an amazing day. I'm here, there are fish splashing and eating all around, and I'm safely anchored in 60 feet of water at 25 31.305 N, 111 04.318 W. 60 feet is way deeper than I'd like (I've got all 240' of my chain out which still only gives me 4/1 scope) but there are a lot of boats in here so I'm farther out than I'd like to be. No problem though; it's flat calm. I need to get to bed so I can wake up and get going again tomorrow. There's still a sea to be crossed, but with the wind that's forecast, it shouldn't be much of an adventure. Yes, I realize that saying this is tempting the gods.TTP.S., Happy Mother's Day to my wonderful mom and all the mothers in my life (and those not in my life).
