Voyage of the Sailing Vessel Maggie B.

Two years ago, my wife, Diana, and I sailed the Maggie B., a 30 foot sailboat that we'd been living on for about 8 years, down the Pacific Northwest coast, from Neah Bay, Washington, roughly 100 miles from shore, as far south as our first stop, Ventura, California. This was almost exactly a two week trip, during which we encountered every type of sailing you'd want, from calms to a gale, and just about everything in between. In Ventura, we took a slip in a marina, and worked for about a year and a half. After that we continued our voyage on south, hopping from harbor to harbor, till we got to the southern tip of the Baja Peninsula. We slowly sailed our way up into the Sea of Cortez, as far north as Punto Chivato, then crossed over to the Mexican mainland, arriving at San Carlos, in the Mexican state of Sonora. There, we put our boat in a storage facility, came back up here to work and to save up some more nuts and berries for the next foray, which began December 20th, 2004.

April 8th, 2005, San Carlos, Mexico

We pulled back into Agua Verde, March 11th, with a couple of items on the mission plan. One was to dive, or at least snorkel, a sailboat sunk in the northern anchorage. We wound up staying there for about 4 to 5 days, waiting for a "Blue Norther" to blow itself out before going north again.

The wreck is a Kettenburg 30, we were told by another cruiser, and it is easy to find, as it's sunk in about 20 feet of water, and a good portion of the mast is visible above the water. I dove down to find that most of the easily removable stuff like anchors and winches are already stripped, which I'd expected. The rig is intact however, with good, strong looking hardware and wire, boom, and mast still in place. So if you need a sailing rig, and you're near Agua Verde, and West Marine won't pick up the phone, just get some dive gear on and have at it. There is a story, as you'd imagine, about this wreck. This story involves a murder, a stolen boat (the sunken one) a botched getaway…really botched by the looks of things, and so on. Sorry I don't have more detail than that.

Item 2 turned out to be swimming lessons. Doppler took one swim during our stay in Agua Verde. The day before his swim, he really wanted to go in the kayaks. So one morning while we were below having our coffee, we heard a twang of the lifelines and then a splash, then the yowling. Evidently, he was trying to jump into one of the kayaks alongside. He missed the kayak and later indicated that he didn't much like swimming. I fell overboard while leaning over to pick him up out of the water and so for a minute we were both swimming. Once everyone was back aboard we rinsed and dried off, which is an all day process if you are Doppler.

April 5th, 2005, San Carlos, Mexico

On March 9th, 2005, the Maggie B. left La Paz heading north bound for San Carlos, sailing north to spend the night at Caleta Partida, just north of Isla Espiritu Santo. Enroute from Partida to Isla San Francisco, a few Sei or Fin Whales crossed our bow at fairly close range, a very nice treat from Neptune.

Later in the day, about 7 miles south of Isla San Francisco, the wind piped up on our nose, and the seas became steep and we started getting pounded. For some reason the seas pound hard in that part of the sea, when a north wind blows. We suspect there is a north flowing current there, which would account for the square waves we were getting. Before long we were only getting about 3 knots over the ground with a reefed main, a staysail and the engine helping out to boot. It was a very wet and sloppy ride, taking spray and waves over the bow the whole time, creeping along, and San Francisco in sight, right there! Over to the northwest of us a small (60 passenger, 30 crew, we later learned) cruise liner was poking around, evidently looking for some wildlife, and no doubt due to the luxury of her sheer size and heft, was apparently oblivious to the conditions. Within the hour they tooled over toward us, maybe to point out to the passengers the hapless fools getting clobbered down there in a small sailboat, there, just below the port bows.

We finally made enough northing to tack east and head straight in to the moon-shaped bay on the southwest corner of San Francisco Island. Once under the high, rocky, lee of the bay, it was as if we changed worlds. Just a few moments ago all hell was breaking loose. Here it was calm and beautiful.. The water was clear, warm, with a nice gently sloping sandy bottom with great holding for the anchor. We'd sleep well this night.

Within minutes of getting the anchor down, I was in the water having a nice bath. A bit later, in came the cruise ship, the Sea Bird. They anchored in the south part of the bay, and within moments disgorged about 50 kayakers paddled by passengers, presumably, and 3 large black inflatable dinghys, crewed by…well, crew, who jetted about to herd the kayakers away from the dangerous bits of that treacherous bay, I suppose.

One of the kayakers came by, and we got to talking. He asked a number of questions about Maggie, and seemed well versed in boats. He looked around 70 or so. After awhile I asked him if he was from the cruise ship. He was quick to explain that it wasn't a cruise ship (no casino aboard, nor shuffleboard nor dancing opportunities) but rather was a regularly scheduled eco-tourism company. His explanation implied that my perceptions or assumptions were somewhat off the mark, and that these were not cruise ship passenger types I was seeing, but a more hardy breed of fellow traveler. No pampered cruise ship ninnys here, thank you very much. Eco-tourism is a great thing, much lower in environmental impact than more classic modes of travel, if not somewhat more demanding of the passengers themselves. More along the lines of the HMS Beagle than the QE2. Well on reflection, that explained the diesel powered ship, all those plastic kayaks, and the big inflatables with the 70 hp motors on the back. All very nice, if basic.

After a while it became evident that the black inflatables had fanned out over the bay (as quietly as you can fan in one of these things), and were visiting the 6 or 7 previously anchored sailboats and speaking a bit with each one. When one came our way, we made ourselves presentable (this means Mike put on some clothes) and a very nice young man came alongside and invited us to a bonfire dinner that the ship was putting on, on the beach that evening. Just bring ourselves, he said, and added that it was ship's policy, for their once weekly beachfire dinner, to invite over the boats that were already anchored when they arrived at the anchorage, to join in the fun. He was very nice as I said, and actually apologized for coming in to the quiet bay with such a grand production. Well nothing makes a body philosophical about big inflatables jetting around the bay, more than free, hot food, and a couple glasses of good wine. We accepted the invitation.

We arrived on the beach about 6 pm, and found most of the passengers already seated in the 'seating area' that had folding chairs set up for them. Soon we were greeted by one of the crew, a ship's naturalist, while yet another, liveried member of the crew passed by, carrying a tray of drinks, the way you see in movies, one of which I snagged…this is on an idyllic beach, miles from anywhere, mind you, and may eco-tourism live forever! The transportable grill setup for the kitchen staff would be the envy of chefs anywhere. And the food was wonderful. A choice of two entrees, ribs and yellowfin tuna (I had some of each) a salad, desert, cookies, bread, trimmings, more wine, and these guys were roughing it for the day. Where do we sign up?

By and by, everyone hushed each other up. 30 seconds of 60 retirees imitating a steam leak. Everyone knew the drill. It was storytime. We heard an amazing bonfire account of an Aztec legend told in grand style by one of the crew, a Mexican fellow who really had a flair for this type of stuff. He was great to watch, and you could see that he was genuinely vibrating to his topic and his audience, and getting warmer and warmer as he went. The story itself was a little hard to follow, but it probably wasn't his fault. It had been my first two glasses of wine in weeks. He'd refered to a document and beseeched everyone to check it out on the internet when they could. I missed the name of the document, and so accosted him at the end of his delivery, just after the applause was dying down and he'd turned my way. You could tell he was so high off the whole thing, just being in his energy field to ask that question was a palpable sensation. Ordinarily just a regular guy who I'd spoken to briefly an hour before, now completely jazzed by doing his job. It was a thing to see. The next day the beach would be empty of all evidence of this group's presence the night before.

I will put up some more highlights over the next week or so, so check back again to see more, if you like.

Beam winds,

Mike and Diana

February 27th, 2005, La Paz, Mexico

We finally left San Carlos the evening of 13th of February. We sailed with good wind non-stop for about 30 hours to cross the sea and find our first anchorage in a small cove at southeastern point of Isla Carmen. The first 4/5ths of the crossing gave us wind in the 15-25 knot range, just forward of the starboard quarter. The seas were up and jumping for the entire crossing, and we stayed clipped on throughout the night, sailing under reefed main and the full jib. The windvane steered admirably, one of our best friends underway. Diana and I stood watches 3 hours on, 3 off during the nighttime hours. During the daylight hours watch standing is a bit more casual, and there often 2 people awake, but always at least one. So we spent Valentine's day at sea, and it was a good one.

About 3 hours south of San Carlos, we spotted a whale spout about 60 feet off the port bow, and it looked like it was headed our way. We had the mains'l prevented out to port, and so were able make a quick turn to starboard without upsetting the applecart too much. However for the next 2 hours or so, we kept dodging this guy(s) and couldn't seem to lose him. We did a number of jibes and zig-zagged all over the place, but he kept coming up for air right about where we were at the time. I think there were at least two, and I suspect they were playing with us. "OK…now they're turning left again" says whale number 1, "so now you go up ahead and turn and face them again!…Goodness, I haven't had this much fun since they were out here two years ago!"

Thankfully they figured out something else to do and left us just before dark. We had a waning quarter moon, I think, and so it was a fairly dark night…just like in the beginning of the Snoopy novel.

The next day we motored in a flat calm down to Agua Verde, about 7 hours worth, long enough to eat another thermostat, and hung out there for a couple of days. Changed the thermostat. Agua Verde is as poor a little community now as the last time we saw it. It is all dirt roads, hovels for homes, wonderful people, and free ranging farm animals. There's no electricity. There are a number of big holes in the ground, wells I'd guess, with little gas-powered pumps beside them for getting the water out. The little school is in a bad way and we resolved to buy up some school supplies when we got to La Paz, to deliver on our way back north. Paper and pens go a long way in places like Agua Verde.

While in Agua Verde, we met Steve and his crew, Mary, who were anchored on a Tom Colvin Gazelle-class, junk-rigged schooner, the Bu' Kwiss. The name Bu' Kwiss is from an indigenous dialect from near Steve's home on Vancouver Island. It basically means a small hairy fellow who inhabits the forest and uses various stratagems to lure mariners into the woods to keep him company. Once the mariners meet up with this Bu' Kwiss, everyone has a nice time, keeping each other company. That's it. Sorry, I wish there was more to it than that, but there just isn't.

We'd both bought a kilo of shrimp from an anchored shrimper, and later had a kind of a progressive dinner between Steve's boat and ours. Mary made the chiviche and we did up the garlic butter version over here. We had music aboard. Steve didn't have his guitar unfortunately, so we passed mine back and forth. He is quite a player.

We were able to sail most of the way from Agua Verde to Los Gatos. We kept our anchor down in Los Gatos for at least 2 nights. There is a flipper, once belonging to a Humpback Whale, lying on the northern of the two beaches. As Humpback flippers go, it is a fairly short one, measuring about 8 or 9 feet long. It has been calcifying in the sun for a while now, and you could get up close to check it out.

At Bahia Los Gatos, we finally met the famous Manuel. In his panga, Manuel visits the anchored boats, offering them fish, lobster, beer, ice, what have you. He had on board, at the time, the forward half of what earlier had been a 15 or so pound Yellowtail. He passed it to me, I passed it to Diana, who took it below and cut off enough for dinner. We settled up after I passed the remaining fish back to Manuel. We asked him for some lobster for later, and he said he'd bring them the next day. He did, very late in the day, and was very apologetic because they were fairly small. He wouldn't even say how much he wanted for them as they must have been below his usual consideration. I got him to take his previously stated rate for a kilo - 60 pesos (about US$5.50) and asked if he would bring us some ice the next day as we planned to leave early. Now why we asked this, I can't tell you, since we don't refrigerate our food anyway, and never use ice for anything. Well he brought the ice the next morning, an entire large ice chest full, and I emptied as much as I could into a bucket, and put a beer in there (we had one Pacifica, a ballena-size from Mike and Margi's visit in December). Manuel also offered us an entire fish as a gift, a Sierra, good eating, and so now we had an even better reason for the ice. I paid him 50 pesos for the ice, since he'd brought so much of it, and clearly all for us. As he was leaving, he asked if we had any treble fish hooks. I gave him an entire lure that had treble hooks on it and some other hooks and leaders as well, para un hombre muy bueno. I am sure they will do him much more good than us…we never catch anything, except from the panga fishermen like Manuel.

Sailing off the hook at Los Gatos, an hour later found us ghosting south toward San Evaristo. Often, in a sailboat, you don't actually go to anywhere. It is more like you go toward things. It's more general. After a couple of hours of light air sailing on flat seas, the wind died completely. We decided to motor, and did so for a couple of hours more until just north of the San Jose Channel, which cuts between Isla San Jose and the Baja Peninsula. By now it was about 2 in the afternoon and the wind was picking up from the north and funneling down the channel. Once more, Maggie enjoyed a boisterous ride, this time wing on wing (one sail extended out on either side of the boat, with the wind directly astern) for a number of miles. By the time we got to the entrance of San Evaristo, the wind and seas had increased to the point that we had to pay close attention and actually work out a plan just to get the jib in safely. Usually, with the wind astern, you can just blanket the jib with the main, and then pull it down without much forethought, but with higher than usual winds and waves, what with all the extra motion, and far less than the usual amount of hairspray aboard, this channel gave us a couple of good lessons in deliberately working the sail handling chores through. San Evaristo is a very snug harbor and we enjoyed a calm night at anchor. It's amazing sometimes how close a calm can lie to what, a few moments before, can feel like a roaring tempest.

We raised the anchor and left San Evaristo under sail, then worked our way over to San Francisco Island. There is a little moon-shaped cove near the south end of San Francisco, world famous for "puka shells" on the beach, from which little wrist and ankle bracelets can be fashioned. The water continues to get warmer as we work south, and we finally had a great swim on the beach and off the boat. Up to this point jumping over into the water had been a teeth-gritting, water-saving, bath-taking necessity, but today we did it just for fun. We'd thought to spend the night at San Francisco, which offers protection from nearly all directions but southwest, but the wind clocked southwest about 9:30 pm, and so we yanked up the anchor before the waves got too big, and scooted over to Evaristo again, and had the anchor back down by midnight.

We left San Evaristo the next morning and sailed into Caleta Partida that afternoon. Most of the day's sailing was under sail with good wind. We monitored the world situation from Partida for about 2 days, then sailed south again, and into La Paz, which is where we are now, re-provisioning, and getting quite a bit of walking in on the Malecon.

We plan to base out of La Paz for at least one trip back up to the islands north of here, and likely returning to re-provision prior to working our way back north to San Carlos, where we will be by late April.

Love to all.

February 4 th, 2005, San Carlos, Mexico

It is February 4th, and we are still in San Carlos. Maggie has been plagued by engine problems since we launched and we are still stomping them out, as they come up.

We've decided that the furthest we will go this year, if we go that far, is Chacala, Mexico. Chacala is south of Mazatlan, and a little north of Puerto Vallarta.

On the other hand, the weather here is very nice, very pleasant, and we have been getting quite a number of important projects done.

As fickle as we are, we could wind up in the South Pacific, though it is unlikely at this point.

Highlights so far: Meeting some very great people here. Day-sailing outside the San Carlos bay with great winds and plenty of seas, and seeing whales and porpoises, which are hanging right outside the harbor entrance this time of year. Also watching the Sea Lions cavort while anchored outside San Carlos. Diana's fish tacos.

Diana and I have had the best time being basically joined at the hip for the last couple of months. We've played music, even entertained some folks aboard, done an awful lot of hiking and rowing together..

Oh yes, I sold another CD! It is always a thrill when someone wants to buy of them. That makes TWO sold, to date. Of course, I've given a gob away to friends, which was the original intent for making them. But it's a thrill when someone wants to lay down hard cash for one. Be sure and tell all your friends that there are still CDs available, LOL!

Diana reports that today was one of the best days in San Carlos for her. She did lots of little projects around the boat, took herself for a nice long row in the dinghy, chatted with lots of folks, and, of course, made some of those amazing fish tacos with fresh Yellowtail Tuna.

If we didn't have such a low threshold for entertainment, it's likely that we'd be bored out of our minds here, waiting around for things to happen, getting Maggie's engine going. Clearly we are cheap dates.

Hope you are well and happy.

Beam winds.

December 26th, 2004, San Carlos, Mexico

We are thrilled to be back on Maggie and on the water. Diana and I splashed Maggie into the water a few weeks ago, went back to Albuquerque, and just got back to San Carlos by the 19th. We had 2 days for scrubbing and stowing. Then, at about 2 am on the 21st, Mike and Margi from Olympia arrived and we spent a great week exploring San Carlos, and even got a shakedown sail in.

We are still stomping out little fires such as a dirty fuel tank, a leaky cooling water connection, a cranky key for starting the engine, but the sails work great, the anchor works great - which we found out when the engine quit due to the dirty fuel - the heater works great - the temperature is very cool in the evenings here, and the head works great. The head is the toilet, and Iwill try to not throw too much sailor jargon around.

Doppler (the cat) appears to be adapting well to the whole boat thing. He only threw up three times when we went sailing the other day, and besides that hardly complained at all. The wind was nice and the seas were fairly boisterous, and it was a wonderful sail for almost everyone.

For Christmas, we went over to a very nice meal at the San Carlos Yacht Club, which was our very first experience of a yacht club function. This club is more of a community center for the boaters and homeowners around these parts, and the meal was very nice.

Between now and the third, Diana and I (and Doppler, once we figure out how to get some work out of him) will be organizing the boat, cleaning more stuff, installing some gear, and generally tweaking on things. On the third, we will haul out for a week or so, to do the bottom (sand, paint, raise the currently hidden waterline stripe). After that, we should be about ready to head south toward Mazatlan and beyond.

Beam winds,

January 30th, 2003, Magnelena Bay

We are currently in Puerto Magnalena, in Maganalena Bay. This is a ripe Grey Whale meeting and breeding ground, and we've seen several already. Local word has it that there are about 800 or so due to arrive with the next full moon, in about 2 weeks. We probably will not linger here that long, as we really want to get further south and work our way up into the Sea of Cortez.

Some highlights up to now.

Left Oceanside, CA 16th of Jan. Passed by San Diego during the night, to the great interest of Navy helicopters, and the next day, ghosting just south of Ensenada, yet another Coast Guard helecopter evidently couldn't pass up the closeup photo op. Our first actual stop in Mexico, was the northeast anchorage of Cedros Island, which is on the map, for those of you at home. Started seeing whales just north of Cedros. We anchored in quite close, and the seal lion colony was on station, arguing their nonstop abstract political viewpoints, all of it very loud and unintelligible. It was a marvellous thing to hear, an all night fillibuster.

We were about to stop at the old historic port, a bit further down the east coast of Cedros, La Palmita, but it was too rolly where we needed to be, so we continued on thru the night to Turtle Bay.

Turtle Bay has the best waterfront catina in the world. Run by a man named Carlos, who is the social director, host, and all around great guy. His wife does the work, cooking, and daughter is the waitress. There are about 4 tables, plastic lawn chairs and a dirt floor, which is appropriate after you've beached your dinghy on the sand. Met Ernesto, the fuel guy, gave us a math lesson and some spanish lessons. Also some fuel.

After a couple of days here we headed on down to Assunsion for the night, then up the next morning early start for Punto Abreojos. From the anchorage here, we got a panga driver to cart us to the mouth of San Ignacio Bay which is a premier whale ground. Saw whole bunche of Greys up close just outside the mouth, and inside (we switched pangas on a beach, as you need govt permission to boat around inside the bay and watch the whales.) Spyhops and breaches were the highlights of the day.

Sailed from Abreojos to Santa Maria Bay, got the anchor down just before dark, got a good night's sleep, and the next morning, left in dense fog for Bahia Magdalena, here.

We caught our first fish yesterday! A Pacific Mackerel. He or she made a great lunch breaded with crackers, and lots of lime.

We are about to dinghy in to check in with the Port Captain, our first time ever at this drill, and it seems fairly relaxed here. They probably do not have internet access here so not quite sure when this will go out. There may be quite a bit more to add before it does.

Diana and I are both fine, and are making a great team, sailing in Maggie B. This has been a very happy voyage so far, and we are looking forward to more.

March 1st, 2003, La Paz
Hanging in La Paz I

We are in La Paz right now. From Mag Bay, we traveled on south, harbor hopping, to Cabo San Lucas, where we topped off water and fuel. Made Bahia Frailes, idyllic. 2 days there. Saw many Humpback Whales, jumping Mantas, traded some magazines to fishermen for a 40 lb. tuna, resorted to a hacksaw to get the thing's head off before we realized the critter had been frozen. 40 lbs of tuna and no refrideration gets you sushi, grilled tuna, bakes tuna, tuna hotdish, tuna surprise, tuna with canned aparagas, canned corn, and about half of a tuna to give away to the other anchored boats. Kayaked parallel to a Humpback mom and baby for about an hour at sunset, baby loved to breach, and did so many times.

En route to Bahia de los Muertos (don't ask) we sailed right by two humpbacks going crazy. Onewas tail slapping, over and over, Diana quit counting at forty, and the other was breaching and combining spins with the breaches, again, over and over. Something we never expected to see, anywhere. Have to say it: these whales were way too big for their breaches...but it doesn't stop them, you gotta respect that.

More to come. We will be exploring the islands and bays up to about 80 miles north of La Paz for the next few weeks or so. Hopefully we will have more to say. I am sure we will.

Beam winds,

Mike y Diana

March 30th, 2003
Hanging in La Paz II

Diana and I are safe and sound back in La Paz after a short foray up as far inside the Baja coast as Agua Verde.

A few highlights:

First stop La Paz. We did not get far the first trip. Was very sunny and nice as we upped the anchor and sailed up the La Paz channel with a nice southerly breeze. Within fifteen minutes we noticed the sky getting very dark to the south, and boldly (or a different adjective of your choice may be inserted here) pressed on. We made it up almost as far as the northern mouth of the channel, when a couple of misadventures involving Maggie's keel and the bottom of the bay occurred convincing Maggie to tuck her tail beneath her transom and beat back to La Paz where we anchored within 100 feet of where we started, beneath a pouring, and roaring, thunderstorm. We checked the calendar, to make sure it wasn't Friday, and then relaxed the rest of the evening. All well.

We got a good start next day and wound up at Balandras Bay, a beautiful spot with good northerly protection. After snorkling for a half an hour, the wind filled in from the west, which it never does here, making the anchorage untenable. We had a wild ride, shifting anchorages south by a couple of miles to a commercial hurricane hole I still cannot pronounce, (in old Spanish, the name means something along the lines of: Galleons beware!...there are bloodthirsty Dutch pirates in there and they wish to come out and plunder your ungainly ship as you try to get through this current-swept, narrow, unmarked channel. Source: certainly not the AAA guide) and then got a great night's sleep.

Finally off to Isla Espiritu Santo! Spent two wonderful days exploring various coves and bays along the more protected (in usual weather) western side of the island.

Then up the San Jose channel, the water between San Jose Island and the Baja coast, and anchored at Los Gatos. The scenery at Los Gatos is stunning. We had this idyllic spot to ourselves for one calm, blissful, star filled night. Of course the stars were overhead. But the water itself...well we have already described phosphoresence, but typically this phenomenon requires the water to be disturbed in some way to get the photoplankton to show their stuff. In Los Gatos we saw something we've never seen before. In the darkness, all around Maggie in the water, at various depths, was a twinkling lightshow, and lots of it, like a marine version of a Snoopy Christmas! The water itself was flat calm, and still we had this sparkling all around us, which meant, when combined with the stars in the sky (we are miles from any city's light so you see all of them) we were completly surrounded by stars. We celebrated our Fifteenth Wedding Aniversary here.

The next day was more of the same, except we were joined by three Catalina 34's travelling together, all identical boats, and very similarly equipped. At first we asked if it was some sort of flotilla charter operation. Actually, one contained the parents, in their 80's, one boat, the daughter and husband, 50's, maybe, and the final one, friends of the family. All were very nice folks and we got to meet up with most of them on the beach later.

Calm night, but next day, blew like crazy from the west, which it never does here, then north all the next night and all the next day, so we all mostly hunkered down at anchor to wait it out. Los Gatos is quite rolly with swells refracting around the point, when the wind goes north, even though you have good protection and holding during the westerly and northerly winds. By the way, it never blows from the west here.

Diana and I have been kayaking like demons in our inflatable kayaks. During the blow in Los Gatos, we kayak-surfed in to the southern beach (the one the waves were breaking on to), without wiping out, this is very exhilliarating!... Diana found "some very cool shells" on the beach, and somehow we made it back out through the trains of breakers and back to Maggie. We have not launched the hard dinghy since La Paz, and we've been able to tow the kayaks quite nicely, even when the seas are up. We are getting quite some excercise.

Back on the topic of shells, also, in the perfect little crescent cove on Isla San Francisco, just south of San Jose, we found enough puka shells to make an ankle bracelet in no time flat.

Getting Some Fish. I've gone thru all of my lures except one high speed one, which of course is not suited to this boat. We have caught two fish, and traded for others from the Mexican fishermen who are easy to find around here. Mostly they want beer or cigarrettes, which we do not have, but everyone likes juice, ramen noodles, fruit, and magazines, so on average, one fish will cost us the equivilent of two to three dollars, US. With fishermen, our money will buy nothing, as they fish in cooperatives. They only want to trade stuff for the fish. They tell us what they want, we tell them what we have, and at some not very distant point from there, a deal is struck. Then Diana always throws in a few extra things, like incredible canned items we can't bring ourselves to eat, tupperware containers, or once, Ghiredelli chocolate mix which we seem to be too lazy to mix into some milk ourselves. We will get more lures when we can. On the other hand, going thru lures is a pricey way to have fish on the table, (the two we've caught ourselves are running about $20 US each, in lures), and we have never really fished before, but are finding using our hand line towed astern thrilling to do. Especially when there is a fish interested in us.

We made it as far north this foray, as Agua Verde. There was a shrimping boat in the harbor while we were there, so we did the standard trade that they do, 100 pesos for one kilo of some huge tasty shrimp. We just finished eating seven out of eight meals of shrimp, since we have no refrigeration or ice on board, it is shrimp, breakfast lunch and dinner. We gave a red snapper to the one other boat in the cove, and then they gave us some amazing feta, wild and rangy, made from the local goats' milk, the ones you hear bleating ashore. The fish was meant to be a gift, but it turned into a fabulous trade. Nowadays, we listen for goats in these little one-store (in someone's house) villages.

Later we gave them some of our fresh shrimp, and the lady aboard brought over some fresh baked brownies, another gift turned into an amazing trade.

Besides the brownies, we do not keep sweets or other yummy treats on board, as we know from experience, that Mike doesn't get to eat any; after the first stressful moment, they somehow all dissapear. (In two thirds of the anchorages, there is quite a bit of stress, especially when entering harbors at dark, lead-line-ing for your depths, avoiding reefs and such, lasting the critical few moments, which through some bizzarre law of nature, causes the sweets to evaporate. We finally got our depthsounder to work about two weeks ago, which has helped lower the stress markedly. Still no goodies unless we get a gift of some! Poor, deprived, Diana.)

We got back to La Paz in a couple of jumps, stopping at San Evaresto, which is shaping up as one of the holy grails of anchorages protected from western winds, which never occur here this time of year, of course, but they did there, for us. We also stopped at a beautiful unnammed cove, just south of Partida, on the western coast of Espiritu Santo, which was not recommended by any cruising guide, so we had it to ourselves, and spent an incredible afternoon enjoying the sun, surf, and each other. That evening, around 11 PM, a couple hours after beddy-bye, the wind came rushing into the mouth of this cove, from the west, and we bailed out, and decided to sail through the night to finish our route to La Paz, a nice rolly beam reach from that cove. Wound up hove to just north of La Paz by about 3:30 AM, waiting for sunrise, in order to enter the channel, and also to avoid the unlit anchored shrimpers in the bay, (these shrimpers were only unnerving little radar blips which corrosponded with nothing on the chart until a bit of daylight) then as we got closer, at sunrise, all bleary-eyed and worn out, we were treated to a close-up, and energetic breaching show by two exuberant Humpbacks! This made the night all worth it. Got our anchor down in La Paz in time for Carnival, which is blaring just outside the door of this internet cafe right now.

Time for laundry, groceries &etc. After hopefully meeting up with some friends we last saw in Los Frailes, we plan to leave here in two or three days, and push north as far as Isla Tortuga, before crossing the sea into Guaymas / San Carlos. It is unlikely we will find internet between here and San Carlos, based on what we've seen so far of the villages en route.

Entonces, adios for about a month.

Beam (non-west) winds,

Mike, Diana, and Maggie

3-27 to 4-1, Punta Chivato

We are anchored in the lee of Punta Chivato. It is blowing about 40-45 knots. Beats being at sea in this kind of wind. Diana doing little projects to fill the time. I am trying to read to take my mind off the anchor. Although it has held admirably, (the anchor, and my mind) I still need to learn to not take each gust and heel personally.

After this blow dies down, we plan to cross the sea to San Carlos, where we will haul out, "summerize" the boat, and head for the airport in Hermosillo.

While anchored in San Juanico and in Conception Bay, we dove for clams.

Diving for the Famous Chocolate Clams: We learned this method from a fellow in San Juanico bay while waiting around for a weather window. Before the day we got our first bunch, we'd never heard of these very appropriately named little denizens of the not very deep. Here's how:

Water depth, 5 to 10 feet. Snorkle along til you find the telltale "two little holes, right next to each other, about the size of small peas." hyperventilate from pure excitement, and also to prepare for the dive. Dive straight down. When you reach the bottom, dig in the sand next to the holes with your hand. The clam will be about 2-3 inches below the sand. He or she will not want to leave the sand, and are often very difficult to get out of the sand, so, kicking with your flippers to stay on the bottom, as your body starts to scream for air, you now engage in a duel to the death, hopefully on the part of the clam, to get that clam out and then make the emergency express rise to the surface. When you get to the surface, breach like a Humpback whale with the sheer exhilliaration of the hunt, don't forget the characteristic Humpback "blow" using your snorkle, and put the beautiful brown and white swirl-patterned clam into your goodie bag. Finally, "log" on the surface, getting your strenghth back until you see your next pea-sized holes. Repeat as needed for a really good dinner.

Speaking of breaching, something we've never seen before entering Conception Bay, there were dolphins doing whale-like breaches around us, unlike their typical nose-first entry from the jumps out of the water. These guys found it more fun to simply flop back onto their backs, as if they'd seen Humbacks doing it and decided to get in on the action. The dolphins were almost doing it in formation, one right after the other, almost in a straight line.

Back on the subject of whales, we had a two very close encounters with whales this month. The first was just south of Agua Verde, a couple of miles to seaward of some offlying reefs. We were motor-sailing along in a dying breeze, trying to make Agua Verde before sunset (about 2 hours hence), when the diesel engine stopped running. Just quit. Sputtered to a complete halt as if starved for fuel. As it turns out it was starved for fuel, but we won't talk about that. Just as the engine died, the wind (our next to last remaining source of propulsion) also died, leaving us dead in the water. Just in that quiet, still, breathless moment, a sound erupted immediatly behind us. We thought one of the kayaks had suddenly exploded, but it was a Sei Whale about 40 feet long, about 30 feet off our stern, who had just picked that moment to really check us out. It was his or her blow. We had wanted to whale watch, and Diana got some valient efforts in at it, while messing with the sails, and sculling with the rudder (both to no avail) while Mike took apart the fuel system, reassembled it from other parts from other things, like the diesel heater, &ct. A couple hours later, after dark, at the end of our wits, and slowly drifting toward the rocks, we checked the fuel level in the main tank. Empty. Unbelievably and monstrously empty. It is still a mystery why the tank was empty. As Jack London once wrote: "I am not asking you to believe me. I don't believe it myself. I am not telling you what I believed. I am only telling you what I saw." There is no leak, and we paid to have it filled in La Paz, so there you are. Another Mexican math lesson at the fuel dock. We had a couple of jerry jugs which we dumped in, got started on the first try, and got into Agua Verde in what is becoming our typical style, after dark, before moonrise, and feeling around in dimness for a good spot to drop the anchor.

Whale Encounter Number Two. We had left Punta Pulpito about sunset for Conception Bay. We wanted to 1) give ourselves plenty of time to get there, 2) sail in the full moonlight due that night and 3) take advantage of a fairly rare southerly breeze. Pretty well-reasoned-sounding for a split second dicision to just up the anchor and go. By around 9:00 PM we were ghosting nicely north, and were about 5 miles north of the point (very slow progress, but the sailing was absolutly blissful). We started hearing whale blow noises behind us and to shoreward. We couldn't see the whale yet but from the direction of its blows we could tell that its progess was crossing our stern and heading seaward. Meanwhile at least two other whales were on our starboard quarter a couple of blocks away. Those we could barely make out. Those whales crossed our stern and started moving ahead of us (not hard to do at our speeds) when suddenly an entire pod of about eight whales surfaced all around us. They encompassed us at distances of 30 to 60 feet. These whales were large and noisy in ways we'd never heard before. You could see, in the clear moonlight, the bow wave from at least two of these (gentle? hope so!) levathians. More importantly, you could actually *hear* the bow wave. That part was unnerving. We passed up this incredible Jonah style opportunity and started the engine to 1)alert the whales to our presence in case they were not already aware of us and 2) get the hell out of their way. But which direction? As we diverted to the left, there were two new whales right off our port bow. These appeared to be with babies, bad news to get between a mom and her baby. Diana ran below, tossed Mike his tether and harness with a "hook yourself to something" then closed all the ports and hatches in the event we got knocked around...hey it was Mike's watch...and he got to see the whales, real close-like, while we got out of there. Finally, we just gritted our teeth, held a course for about 5 minutes and were away from the center of the group and beyond. Again, and suddenly, (this stuff's not over yet) Diana poked her head up through the main hatch just in time to get a blast about 3 feet off of our port quarter. A dolphin with a really bad sense of humor or timing, which left Diana hyperventilating for a couple of minutes. You haven't lived till dolphins leave you gasping with fright. And they kept doing it for a couple of minutes after that! Dudes!

April 6th, 2004, San Carlos, Sonora, MX

Hello all. We finally made it to the end of the trail. We are tied up to a dock at the Marina San Carlos, enjoying quite a bit of walking, mostly to the nearby restaurants.

Our last overnight passage across the Sea of Cortez was certainly the grand finale.

In Punta Chivato we waited out a 3 day norther, which is like a gale, and we were very grateful to have good protection and a good anchoring system. Once again we were re-assured that our purchase of 200 feet of hi-test 5/16 chain for the heavy bow anchor was a good one. (Chad take note.) Nevertheless, it still feels unnerving to have Maggie shuddering and dancing at anchor, in the chop, as the wind veered and backed between northwest and west for 72 hours straight. Though Maggie was secure, it was too windy to leave the boat for 2 days. Diana did some sanding projects which she is very excited about, Mike read to keep his mind off the wind, and made some biscuits. After the wind died down, we waited one more day, pleasantly, to give the seas time to lay down outside, prior to crossing over to San Carlos, about 70 miles on the other side of the sea. When the wind blows like that from the north in the Sea of Cortez, the seas become very steep, tall, up to 12 feet, and very close together, Maggie's (read: Mike's) least favorite combo when trying to go in any direction.

Lightning Storm. Next day, we set off at 0930, motoring in no breeze, under a clear blue sky, just like in the shiny brochures. Our daily weather forecast from friend Jim on s/v Cindy was quite optimistic and promising.

After motoring for 4 hours, we had a lovely sail-only, sail for 5 hours.

When we were about 30 miles northeast of Punta Chivato, we kept hearing explosions to the north. Some friends had told us that there were going to be some explosions on San Marcos Island, just to the north of us, for some reason or another, and to not be alarmed if we heard some. As sunset came, we were sailing in a dying breeze, and we saw that they weren’t explosions, but thunder, as we could now see quite a bit of lightning, gorgeous flashes and occasional bolts, against a brilliant red sky, to the north and west of us. Lots of ooo-ing and ahhh-ing took place.

As if on cue, as the brilliant colors were fading to twilight, we saw the spouts of at least 3 Sei whales at about a block and a half distance, which is our ideal viewing distance for whales. We turned off the motor that we had just turned on, so that we could not only see, but hear the whales as they spouted and breathed down our beam. It seemed a good time to drift for an hour, to time our arrival in San Carlos to coincide with the dawn. There was no sea running and it was quite pleasant. However, as dusk became darkness, our attention now focused back on the lightning, flashing forward of us, all along our port side, and behind us.

Mostly at first, the lightning was "sheet lightning" or the cloud-to-cloud variety, so we were able to reason away any actual fear that we were in for any sort of near or direct hit. However, drifting didn't seem like such a great idea anymore. It seemed more prudent to "move along, nutin' to see here folks, show's over," even though we’d end up dropping the hook, for the "really last" last time, in darkness.

As we watched and "wow"-ed to dozens and dozens of lightning bolts seemingly in competition with one another, we became increasingly apprehensive. We started thinking about Maggie's forty foot tall mast, and that it was the absolute tallest object for twenty miles in any direction, on the flat sea. Indeed, according to the radar, it was the only object at all within twenty miles.

In our favor, the wind was blowing from the opposite side of the boat from the thunderstorms, thereby keeping them far from us. But how far? As I could never remember that little math formula for calculating the distance of the actual lightning, Diana supplied the answer with the math she'd been using since childhood: "1 second delay between lightning and thunder, for each mile of distance." So using that, the storms were a good 20 miles away, in any case, so we tried to stop worrying and re-focused on enjoying the incredible light show, the beauty of the elements at their wildest, smack in the middle of the Sea of Cortez.

By 8:30, the light show was ramping up to Pink Floyd Concert proportions, as well as Pentacostal intensity. The wind had shifted and was now blowing from the direction of the storm cells, and the lightning itself flashing various sizes and geometric shapes of bolts surrounding us by about 180 degrees, the now well-formed bolts hitting the ocean and appearing quite a bit closer. Still, the math put the storms a good 10 miles away, so the question was becoming one of whether or not the storms would fizzle out before they traveled the final distance to us. The thunder was awfully loud though, and things were getting more and more ominous, what with the black darkness, and the stark lightning and fairly sharp sounding thunder, and Maggie's forty foot tall mast being made of metal, so I asked Diana to get into our "Eyewitness Books" weather primer for kids, and turn to the page about lightning. Seemed like a good idea to confirm that math. While trying to find the correct little text blurb with a line attached to a piece of beautifully painted cloud, she came across several other enlightening blurbs such as: "As a lightning bolt flashes through the air, the surrounding air becomes five times as hot as the surface of the sun...” and other reassuring tidbits of knowledge, which she thankfully kept to herself till the next day. Finally she found the math part, and we learned that instead of one mile for each second, it is actually one mile for each FIVE seconds. Well, this put the approaching bolts in a new light, so to speak. Somewhere between 2 miles and almost here. No wonder the lightning seemed so close to us. We took this moment to adopt the concept of having a ditch bag in the event we were hit and un-pumpably holed somehow. (Mike read a sailing article about this years ago.) Inside went: wetsuits, wallets, gallon of water, half of a small jar of peanut butter, Mike's first attempt at biscuits, now three days old, hats, sunscreen, lip block. And oh yeah, flares. (Unfortunately, Diana’s flute and recent beloved sanding/rock project seemed surplus to survival requirements. Mike realized, also, after years of experience at singing in showers, that a guitar in the rain doesn’t work out that well either…) On top of everything was our sharpest knife, the fish fillet knife, still quite sharp from underuse, for cutting lines holding the dinghy onto the bow, should we need to change addresses in a hurry. Then [she] went below to continue the radar watch for unlit shrimpers and other vessels, to chant, and to create a bubble of protective energy, which she later reported was "100 feet all around and above us." On hearing this intelligence, the first thing out of Mike’s mouth, out in the cockpit, was "how about 200 feet." So she popped back below to work on it some more, but really 100 feet was enough. The fearful part for Mike, was the storm cells’ approach from that point until they were directly overhead. At that point, either due to science, the timing of the life cycles of storms in general, but methinks most likely, it was that good-energy bubble doing its thing, by the time this cell of the storm was overhead, which lasted for about an hour, it went into its deluge phase and all we had to do was secure ports and hatches against the biblical-style downpour. The lightning was still all around us, and close, but the closest cell overhead, the garden hose of the gods, had turned out the lights. Diana told me later that while looking at the storms on the radar below, quite a thing to see in itself, the one overhead was the granddaddy of all of them, extending 4 miles in all directions, but by then it was all rain and no sizzle.

We had good wind for most of the rest of the crossing, and with reefed main and stays'l Maggie bore up under the gusts that punctuated the remaining miles.

By 1 AM, the long line of thunderstorms which had been to windward of us, had mostly all moved to leeward of us, so Mike got to go off watch and get some shut-eye. At 3 AM Diana called him back on deck to confirm a freighter on a converging course…of course it was converging…it’s always converging. Just prior to executing our classic, and well-seasoned big ship avoidance maneuver “the Turn Tail Method,” the freighter, about two miles away, turned on his high-beams and all the other beams, indicating we were on the same page, in more ways than one. After showing him our opposite side nav lites, the high beams went back off. Isn’t it gratifying to be noticed? He finally passed about a mile astern of us. Whew! Ray Stevens says: “sure beats the hell outta snifin’ burlap!”

Ships are Diana’s nemesis. But since Maggie insists on being a ship magnet, this made the eighth ship since leaving Neah Bay, Washington, for whom we’ve radically altered course, in a near panic, to avoid collision during high seas, thick fog, darkness, or combos thereof. It has got to be good therapy for something.

Happily the last three hours of this trip were uneventful, other than the now enjoyable lightshow to leeward until dawn. We got the hook down just after sunrise, near the beautiful Catch-22 Beach, named after the movie filmed there. We crashed for five hours, before shifting anchorages to San Carlos. Been here ever since.

We will leave Mexico soon to return to Washington. Diana will first visit her Grandma while Mike stays behind to pay some close attention to Maggie’s bottom for a few days. On return to WA, it is: get jobs, become respectable citizens, and dream and scheme about the next time…

Writing all of this down has made us realize that it is time for another cold cerveza, and the nearby cantina beckons.

Adios, beam winds,

Diana, Mike, and Maggie