I left Ensenada this morning around 11, intending to just head over to Islas Todos Santos to anchor for the night before starting out early for San Diego. I would have just stayed in the Baja Naval marina again, but the surge is so bad in there, and the rows of slips so crowded together (the "fairway" so narrow) that there's no way I would have been able to get myself out of there safely tomorrow solo at 4 or 5am. Then, while heading over to Todos Santos, I started thinking... "You know, Todos Santos is to the southwest, which is the wrong way." And after so much time getting here, I just couldn't go the wrong way. It would be like passing everyone on the freeway for hours and then having to go to the bathroom and wondering how many of those slowpokes are now passing you back. Well, it's not really like that, but anyway, it's the wrong way.
I thought about stopping at Puerto La Salina - a newer marina at Punta Salsipuedes (sal si puedes = "Leave if you can") that's about 20 miles NW of Ensenada and 35 miles from the border. But after a year of mostly anchoring, when I think about docking now - especially potentially tricky docking in surgy conditions - I feel like... someone who's been anchoring for a year rather than docking. Not that I'm horribly out of practice, but I'd rather just anchor. Okay, and I'm a little out of practice.I was worried about getting here in the dark (I hate anchoring anywhere unfamiliar in the dark), but I had my waypoints and by now I'm prepared for anything. As I was approaching Isla Coronado Sur, I saw a big fishing boat with tons of lights. From miles away I assumed it must be a government vessel of some sort looking for drug smugglers, but as I got closer I saw the big purse it was closing around its catch, and then I saw I was heading right for some tiny blinking lights of fish pens or some sort of aquaculture. I'd seen the lights before, but thought they were somehow attached to the island because there wasn't supposed to be an aquaculture thing here. But I weaved through those, then dodged a couple of lobster pots, and as I was trying to get my mainsail down a second fishing vessel dislodged itself from the mother-ship to investigate me or maybe see if I'd run anything over that they needed to yell at me about. But at this point I was still thinking everything was Mexican Navy and had already prepared my self mentally to get boarded by dudes in masks with machine guns (they do that to conceal their identities so drug smugglers can't pursue retribution against them or their families if they recognize a face), so one more angry fisherman wasn't going to bother me a bit. I want about my way dropping the main in between weaving around gear in the water.This was about 45 minutes after sunset, so there was barely any light sky left, and after I made it through the buoy obstacle course, to get to a spot to anchor I had to rely on radar and the coordinates of this anchorage given in the Rains guide. Well, I'm not exactly sure how close I am to shore, but I'm still a ways away. I'd like to be much closer, but when I first got here there was zero wind and the water was flat, so it didn't really matter. I ended up dropping anchor at 32 24.329 N, 117 14.366 W in 35 feet of water and calling it good. And all *was* good until about 20 minutes ago when the wind shifted to the north and now I've got no protection whatsoever. The whole point of coming here was that there were NW and W winds, and the lee of this island would be great for the night and then I'd head into San Diego Bay in daylight (my last nighttime San Diego arrival was uneventful, navigationally, but there's just nowhere to go if the Harbor Police dock is full). But now I'm thinking if the wind or chop gets too bad I'll have to head into San Diego anyway. Which, if I end up pulling anchor at midnight, means an almost certain visit from the Coast Guard helicopter as I cross the border into the States.I'm thinking I'll be able to stay here, though. I let out more chain, so there's 200' out there in 35-40' of water. That's a lot of chain but I don't know what the bottom is like here. I've got the Nobeltec working with a boundary circle, so I'll know by the loud "boing-boing-boing" that I've started to drag. I'm not really worried about going anywhere - even while sleeping I'm pretty in tune with the movements of the boat and the sounds of the wind, even the waves and the seals on shore. And of course if I *were* to get blown towards shore, that 200 feet of chain just gets a bigger and bigger scope, and has to catch at some point.I keep feeling like there needs to be some sort of final I'm back to reality; here's what I learned from everything I've done sort of entry coming up here. It's been almost a year since I left San Diego, and so much has happened. Maybe it needs to be tied up in a neat bundle, but that sort of writing - the deeper thinking and the more essayistic stuff - just isn't at the top of my priority list right now. As verbose as I am, for the past two weeks I've written nothing but entries about sailing and location details (well, very little sailing, really - this has been more about moving along with a purpose where the motor was almost always running). And more importantly, it takes a lot of work to take those details and create something bigger. The details are there, though, so I'll let them stew for a while and I'll gain some distance and perspective. Maybe then I'll revisit and get more of the things out of these experiences that have something to say about the bigger things - the human condition (blah). Hell, I could do it in a second if some book publisher would see some potential here and step up, but for now I've gotta find a way to pay some bills more immediately by writing code.TT
