Well, I passed on my chance for an easy day, bypassing Los Frailles about 5pm and deciding to continue on to Muertos or possibly even through the night to Isla Espiritu Santo, the place I’ve been dreaming of since I left last December. I spoke to the boys this morning before leaving Cabo, and I just couldn’t miss them more. It hurts so much being so far away, being so unsettled and financially screwed up, and all I want now is to just be closer, no matter what happens. When I went to San Diego in January, the intention was to try to find a job. And I did try, but for five months there was nothing, not in San Diego or anywhere else in the world I tried. So I guess I proved that location doesn’t matter at the moment as far as a job goes, but what does matter is how far I am from my boys. They’re growing up without me and I’m missing so much. So despite the fact that my plane reservation is set for June 1 out of Phoenix (after a Tufesa bus ride), I feel in a hurry to get to San Carlos and get ready to go. Plus, I guess, there’s the familiarity of San Carlos.
Partially, I suppose, I feel like I’m rushing because I want so badly to just anchor in a quiet, empty cove and have time to enjoy it. When I came down in December, my best memory was my day spent at anchor in Calelero Cove on Isla Espiritu Santo. Amazing diving, beautiful all around, and crystal clear water.
It’s 7:30 and the sun is getting low, and I see fog or haziness on the horizon. I’m already a little tired, so I’ve decided to just head into Muertos (I’ll get there about midnight) and then get up early to make my way to Isla Espiritu Santo. It will be a nighttime anchoring, which is always a joy, but it will also get me some rest and keep me out of the Cerralvo Channel on an unfavorable tide.
Well, Muertos is a no-go. It’s blowing from the south – not bad, but bad enough to make it lumpy in there. I didn’t get close enough to look closely but based on my conditions five miles out, it wasn’t worth poking my head in. I’m motorsailing towards Cerralvo Channel at 7.7 – 8.5 knots. I’ve got 5-10 knots apparent on my starboard quarter right now, but it’s a little flukey. I’m under full sail with the motor at 2k RPM. I could be content to just sail at 5-6 knots, but the longer I wait to get into the channel, the worse the current is going to be on the outgoing tide. And 2k RPM is really taking it easy on the engine anyway.
So I guess I’ll be tired, and get into a quiet cove on Isla Espiritu Santo and sleep as much as I can given the heat, but I don’t like anchoring in unknown places at night in the first place, let alone if I don’t expect it to be a comfortable anchorage. I’ve just made some coffee and turned on the wifi (and wifi scanner, “Network Stumbler.” I expect to run into a wifi connection here near Muertos - either the Giggling Marlin or a development.
Well, weather changes everything. I was really looking forward to Espiritu Santo (as you can probably tell) but about half way up Cerralvo Channel it started to howl: 20-30 knots right on my nose. I gather this is a famous La Paz “Corumel” wind, which often picks up at night and goes until the morning. I decided that as nice as the days would be, I didn’t want to put up with that at night, so I bypassed Espiritu Santo and am now approaching Bahia San Everisto, which is a gorgeous place I anchored on my way down in December but didn’t spend enough time in. So I made 160+ nautical miles in 24 hours, on not much fuel since I had decent wind most of the way. I’ll enjoy a few smaller anchorages up this way that I haven’t been to before, or I’ll just get to San Carlos earlier.
Pretty tired now, though, and looking forward to setting the anchor. I hope I can sleep – it’s pretty hot.
Woke up from that nap and had a good dinner and nice relaxing evening, and woke around 2:30 to lots of swell coming into the anchorage, but luckily no wind, so there was no worry about getting blown onto the rocks. Still, I was very rested as I went to bed about 9:30 and probably fell asleep immediately, so I got up and am now sailing with about 16 knots on my starboard quarter doing a fantastic broad reach north into the San Juan Strait, which divides the mainland from Isla San Juan. I was thinking of finding an anchorage on Isla San Juan because it’s unpopulated, used to have deer but now only snakes and supposedly 6” scorpions. I’d love to get a picture or two of some 6” scorpions, but don’t think I want to get that close either on purpose or accidentally. And I’m sort of anxious to get back to San Carlos to Internet and get more job things working.
Such a great boat – we’re doing 6.5 – 7.8 knots under main and yankee (O.V. Jr. steers a slightly imperfect course that gains/loses a lot of speed – if we were racing I’d be hand-steering at 7.8 knots pure), no motor at all as I expect I’ll get to run that later to cool the icebox so for now I’m taking advantage of the free ride. I also expect the wind to straighten out and turn behind me more soon as we get farther into the strait, so that I’ll have to take down the yankee and may need to motorsail as we’re going upcurrent a bit.
This could work out well, actually, though I expect one of these times to find an anchorage that protects from the southerly swell and lets me sleep to the morning, but I sort of enjoy waking up at 3 and getting to sail – taking advantage of the La Paz “Corumel” rather than having to motor all day in the hot and windless day. Not to mention the privilege of getting to see the sunrise and doing a little morning fishing. This may be the only morning I get to leave anchor just because of a bumpy anchorage, actually, now that I think about it, because I’m going to stop today in Agua Verde, which has southern protection. It’s also 48 nautical miles north, so it’s farther from the Corumel and who knows if the wind will happen up there at night. We’ll see. Okay, concentrating now as the wind starts to turn behind – don’t want an accidental gybe.
Wing in wing up San Juan Strait! No, she doesn’t really like it. Tough to keep that yankee full and we’re only doing 6 knots. But the wind had died down to about 10-12 knots, and we’re heading right down the middle – not heading for rocks… so there’s that.
I’m getting pretty frustrated on the fishing front, and have resolved to get a dorado today on my way to Agua Verde. With that goal in mind, I’ve re-routed around Isla Santa Cruz, where the bottom contours come up from 4,000+ feet to 500 or so. This is also where I got my bull dorado last year, and I’d love to get another one like that right now. It’s about 30 minutes after sunrise, and I’m not sure I have the right lure on – it may be too bright. I read a short book this trip that talked about lure selection as it relates to the time of day, sky conditions, temperature of the water, and optimal temperature for a certain species of fish, and it was useful in that respect (though it hasn’t helped yet), but the book was written by an egomaniac who came across as a complete asshole, and he also recommended using scent made of PVC that sloughs off into the water. Yeah, use plastic that adds plastic to our water – great idea. Dickhead. It’s from “The Master Angler” series and called “Using Color Technology to Catch More Fish” by Phil Rabideau. It’s worthless outside of the bit of science regarding color / temperature, and that could have been covered in brief article or blog entry, but this guy wrote a book full of self-congratulatory stories and information about lures his company makes. It really makes me want to throw it overboard and never buy any Mepps™ products, ever, because we see his company (Mepps™) about five hundred times in the book.
Still no fish in this fish-rich area, so I’m going to take my white squid off and try a swimming lure. Sure wish I still had that old cedar plug that caught anything and everything five minutes after you threw it in.
No, no fish on the Mexican flag-colored squid, either. I decided against the swimming lure but now I’m almost convinced it doesn’t matter, like the dorado just aren’t biting down here – maybe the water is too cold? The water is 77 degrees right now here in Agua Verde. Agua Verde means literally “green water,” but in the case of this town it also means the color turquoise, according to the Rains cruising guide.
I just came in from a sunset cocktail and book-reading in the cockpit that was distracted for the most part by a dazzling show of pelicans dive-bombing their dinner. So incredible to watch, these ugly brown pelicans as they soar about thirty feet above the water not looking terribly interested until suddenly they just alter course and nosedive into the water but only seem to go down maybe six inches. And then they just sit there casually on the water for a few minutes and eat what they dove on. Talent.
They distract me from a book that requires intense concentration: David Foster Wallace’s Infinite Jest. It’s a 1000+ page tome (with footnotes, also fiction) that’s so far pretty awesome, though not something you just pick up and progress through as James Brown is singing “Shoot Your Shot” and brown pelicans are reminding me why this is such a special place (The Sea of Cortez) – the nature all around and so incredibly … natural. As I came near Agua Verde from my roundabout voyage around Isla Santa Cruz I came through another gang of dolphins, who happily or aggressively confront the boat and swim all around me like Hells Angels, jumping and surfing, escorting me through their right-of-way towards the anchorable harbor but in just being there telling me, ostensibly, not to bother trying to catch any of their tuna, because even if magically I got one on the line, they’d steal it as soon as it started struggling. And at sunset I was approached by a little duck-like thing – maybe a baby pelican, that couldn’t fly but did a waddly sort of swim up to me, with occasional wing-flapping to try itself and then some head-dips and whole-body shakes. “Hey there,” I said to him. “Did you just come out here to show me how cute you are?”
Last night in Bahia San Evaristo right before I went to bed I went on deck and just watched for a while, and listened. There were waves crashing into the rocks and caves around the anchorage, but the most pronounced sound was the movement of water around the boat. I looked down and watched the spots of luminescence as fish disturbed water at the surface and dove below, their agitated wakes creating “Starry Night” swirls in the water, Van-Gogh’ing all around me. I have no idea how to effectively describe how amazing it is – to watch the millions of sparkles in the water and the streaks and swirls as the fish move around the boat, sometimes casually and sometimes jetting suddenly, creating ever brighter streaks of light. This is why I asked so urgently for friends to join me in this; it wasn’t that I needed companionship or help sailing, but that there are beautiful and amazing things here that are just impossible to describe.
This only goes to drive home the perception that I’m wasting time, that I’m just having fun down here. And it’s true, I am really living, thinking, doing and seeing some incredible things, but at the same time I don’t feel like I’m on vacation. To say (when I was) “I’m at anchor in Cabo” always sounded a lot better than it felt, as I don’t feel like my attitude matches the perception of a cavalier adventurer living the dream – I’m too poor for the dream, and I miss my boys too much. It’s hard to describe but those who know me best will understand that I’m trying to make the best of a horrible situation, and my failed attempt at connectedness in San Diego (full-time Internet / telephone) did nothing to enhance my job prospects in four months, and now in order to keep my boat as cheaply as possible while still feeling something other than desperately broke and unemployed I’ve returned to a place where I can feel quite a bit richer, if only spiritually, while I move closer to another long visit with my boys, and look forward to an ever-improving economy, more complete ventures on my laptop, more book-chapters written every day, and a life’s dream that’s still alive.
Well, I finally landed another fish, but it was yet another bonito, and I’m sorry, though this one was the biggest one yet (probably 15 lbs) I let him go back to the sea to fight another day (hopefully, if his lip didn’t hurt too much). I’m using a swimming lure that shakes and wiggles with a small inclusive diving plane on the front, to get it down 10 feet or so when it’s trailed about 120 ft off the back of the boat. This bonito really hit it hard, and took off like a shot – he actually spooled me and the way he fought I thought it was going to be even bigger, but because he didn’t jump I knew right away it wasn’t a dorado. I’ve never seen yellowtail in the Sea yet, but clearly I need to do some bottom fishing and just drop a line in 100’ for a while and try to get some snapper or flaky whitefish.
I’m on my way to Las Islas Coronados, currently running wing-and-wing with the genny along the west side of Isla Carmen, feeling absolutely beautiful and I’m sure if there were any yachties around they’d say we look spectacular, too. The gennaker is blue, aqua and white with orange trim, and is huge and full, as we are under sail only with about 10-12 knots dead astern for a little while, until I can turn and get the wind of my starboard quarter. It’s been a very nice set of conditions (with the exception of the run through the Canal de San Lorenzo in the Corumel) since leaving Cabo, with generally southerlies – just perfect conditions for getting north, and I’ve bypassed Puerto Escondido because I don’t need (and can’t afford) more fuel. My plans are flexible, but at this point it probably makes sense to cross the Sea early tomorrow morning with an easterly that’s supposed to get up to 21 knots. In an easterly, the farther south I start crossing, the better. That direction will put the wind on my beam or starboard quarter the whole way to San Carlos. If I make more northing, then that easterly will be on my beam or higher – possibly on my nose if I were to leave from up near Santa Rosalia or Bahia Conception as I’d planned. I’d love to see some of those anchorages, but the truth is I’m very anxious to get to Internet and take care of some things. It’s sad to say, but yeah… this isn’t yet time for the relaxing cruising of my future – still too many things require communication right now.
Anyway, I’m going to shut down the computer and give it a break for a while, as it’s quite hot and the charting isn’t really necessary as I know exactly where I’m going for the next couple hours. And besides, sailing at nearly 7 knots wing-and-wing with the gennaker makes me want to crank my “Just Great Shit” iPod playlist and just dance in the cockpit and enjoy.
I didn’t end up dancing, much – instead I used the relaxing sail to start cleaning stainless steel. I just did a fresh water rinse / scrub of the stantions, the cockpit enclosure supports and the radar arch, and will polish it with stainless polish later. For now, the freshwater rub-down did wonders. And I’m working on being less tan, so I tried to stay under the solar panels in the radar arch most of the time, and otherwise I’ve got lots of sunscreen on. Seriously, I saw a photo of myself recently, and I’m frighteningly, oddly dark.
This entry is getting really long. Generally I’d cut this up into several different entries, but whatever – the <hr>s make these chunks bite-sized, usually.
I took some video here at anchor at Islas Las Coronados – of the sunset, the other boats, the scenery, and I’m copying that to my computer now. I’ll get more video tomorrow while sailing. Wish I would have thought to take some video of the gennaker flying today, especially wing-and-wing, but oh well – I’ve got some gennaker sailing video already from when I left San Francisco ages ago. Nothing’s changed about the sailing part but the warmth.
So I’ll be leaving here soon – 3am or 4 or whenever I wake up. It’s about a 12-hour sail to San Carlos, and of course I prefer to arrive anywhere before dark, but I’m familiar enough with San Carlos that it won’t freak me out if I have to approach after sunset. It will be nice to … oh, man – the wind just shifted and is now coming out of the northeast. That could totally suck, and could delay my crossing of the Sea and make me move more north first. Hopefully it’s just a temporary thing. Anchor-wise, I’m in here pretty tight in the corner, so I’m fairly protected from swell from the northeast, but if it shifts much more and keeps up, I may get some swell. There are several other boats who would all be way more uncomfortable than me, however. Gonna watch a movie and see how the wind develops overnight.
The wind is not good – light from the northwest. :( And the worst part of it is that I’m motorsailing through fog, and have had fog pretty much since I left Isla Coronados. I just passed two pangas fishing out here – about 10 miles north of Isla Coronados and 6-7 miles offshore of the Baja peninsula, so I need to keep my eyes open (those pangas don’t show up too well on longer-range radar). Anyway, the southeasterly I was hoping for didn’t show up, so I may alter plans and head to an anchorage up north for a quicker daytime crossing. At this point, since I didn’t leave Isla Coronados until 7:30, I wouldn’t arrive in San Carlos until 10pm or so (very dependent upon the winds / my speed across). I’ll still be fine with fuel – I have probably 50 gallons and burn about a gallon an hour at 1800 RPM and 6.2 knots (1.2 gallons/hour at 2200 and 7.5 knots), but I’d just rather sail anyway. We’ll see – I don’t have to make a decision yet, as I’m heading north generally along the contour of the shoreline and could at any time turn west and go into an anchorage up here.
Well, the winds turned and did indeed start coming from the SSE, so I’m now about half-way across the Sea of Cortez on my way to San Carlos on a very fast but bumpy broad reach, with about 20 knots on my starboard quarter. I was flying the gennaker for most of the way to this point, but recently took it down because it was getting too breezy and that big sail was pulling the boat out of balance and the autopilot couldn’t keep up. I’ve got a post-gennaker-take-down video I recorded which I’ll post eventually, but for now I’ll just say that it was an adventure taking it down, and that’s why singlehanders don’t often use flying sails like spinnakers / gennakers – they’re tough to manage when the wind picks up. In this case, I thought I’d turned the boat enough to get the sail in the mainsail’s wind shadow, but I didn’t and when pulling the sock down over the sail a gust came along and filled the sail which ripped the control lines through my hand and gave me a good burn before I could let go. Ouch. Well, I got it down eventually, and now the yankee is up and we’re still doing 8.5 knots. Flying.
It’s about 3:45pm, and at this rate I’ll be in San Carlos around 10pm. I imagine it will be more like midnight, as it will surely mellow out a little after dark, but we’ll see. I’d take this all the way to San Carlos even though the swells on the quarter make it a pretty uncomfortable ride as they turn the boat all over the place and the autopilot tries to recover. We’re getting there.
I’ve stopped fishing, as going this fast would make reeling in a fish very difficult, no matter the size. And if it were a big dorado… man, way too difficult to be worthwhile. If the wind dies down, I’ll fish again, but it’s not like I’ve had much luck, anyway.
Just three hours out of San Carlos now, with the sun just down and a navy ship dead ahead as well as a shrimper dead ahead and another shrimper on my port beam. I don’t imagine the shrimpers will be dickheads tonight, with the Mexican navy out here. Still, I’ve brushed up on my lingua for certain nautical things if the navy ship wants to board me or whatever. It’s probably the same navy ship that helped out the American sportsfisher yesterday that had hit a whale and needed a tow into San Carlos. I think they just pretty much waited until help came from San Carlos to tow the guy in – I don’t think a 200’ ship is equipped to pull a tiny boat into San Carlos – it’s not that big a harbor – and there were probably liability issues. Anyway, the guy could have benefited by a bit more Spanish. I think I can safely say that I’m conversational, though not fluent since I speak so much better than I understand.
No wind for the past couple hours. I took down the gennaker a while ago and now we’re just motoring at 2k RPM and 6.6 - 6.8 knots in still bumpy seas – but the seas have leveled off quite a bit since the wind died down – this is just residual wind chop. So at 6.6 knots I’ll be into San Carlos right at 11:30. Looking forward to it, and to waking up for the morning net and checking in with the crowd there. Dark now – I could probably use some coffee after I haul in my empty fishing line.
