All the Ways We Anchor

S/V Galapagos here checking in once more from, you guessed it, Puerto Escondido. Yes, we’re back for a lovely visit and a little civilization after spending the last two weeks exploring the islands close by. ‘Anchor’ is an interesting word. There are so many ways that we anchor ourselves in our lives. We consider Puerto Escondido to be one of our ‘anchors’ here in Mexico. It has everything we need and we can let ourselves rest and relax here.

To be ‘anchored’ somewhere is to feel a connection and be safe both physically and emotionally. We were both excited as heck to have some family visit for awhile this month. As much as we truly enjoy this life we’ve created, we miss our family dreadfully. Family is definitely an anchor for us. My sister and nephew came to visit us for a week of fun and family time and it was fantastic. Before they got here I wanted to be sure we knew excactly which anchorages were going to be best. They were only here for a week and I didn’t want any loser anchorages. We left Puerto Escondido to explore a bit.

Nice show of dolphins at Los Coronados

After spending a night in Honeymoon Cove our journey took us up the outside of Isla Carmen because a north wind was coming and we needed protection. Probably we should have turned around and gone back into Puerto Escondido while we had the chance, but why take the easy way out? We went in search of safe anchoring.

We knew the wind would be over 25 knots from the north/northwest and that meant the waves would be killer from the north. What we didn’t count on, because we just aren’t experienced in these waters yet, is that we would have to deal with large swell from the south on the outside of Isla Carmen; uncomfortable conditions that I get tired of pretty quickly. Very little wind, not enough to move the boat, and big, fast swells make for an irritated Melissa.

Both anchorages, Punta Colorado and Bahia Salinas, on that side of Isla Carmen provide protection from north swell. But only Punta Colorado provides protection from north wind as well. It was our first choice. However, it’s a smaller anchorage and the shoreline is rocky. The bottom is sand with rocks that can interfere with holding. With a south swell, we would be on a lee shore until the wind clocked to the north. For the non-boaters out there, that’s a bad situation as a rule. It means that the swell and/or wind is pushing the boat toward land.

Another day we returned to Punta Colorado during a smaller blow and it was perfect. I was fortunate to spot this big fellow high on the ridge and capture him with my long lens. I saw three of them and feel so lucky.

While we have excellent anchoring gear, we did not feel safe there with the swells as big as they were. As they say here, ‘No bueno!’. We faced the choice of carrying on to Bahia Salinas, a few miles up the island, or turning and going back to Honeymoon Cove. Somehow the idea of going back to Puerto Escondido didn’t even come up, which it should have. Seems like everyone else ended up there but it was a blind spot for us. We didn’t even discuss it.

Our guidebooks said that Bahia Salinas offered good protection from swell but the wind could come across the land because that’s where the salt flats are. We figured we’d handle the wind and chose to carry on up the island. We probably would have been better off sticking it out at Punta Colorado, but hindsight is always 20/20 and no harm done.

Bahia Salinas is a huge, sandy bay where there is plenty of room to let out a lot of chain. You can swing wildly, drag impressively, and still not hit anything if you’re the only boat there. We were. We anchored in swells way too big for our liking but far enough from land to feel safe. Honestly, the swells were easily 1.5 meters at 6 seconds. Big and fast. Fortunately, there was enough south wind to keep us pointed into them so the motion below was not too bad. Had we been beam to the seas, it would have been untenable. We settled in and waited for the wind to shift.

Walking to the salt flats at Bahia Salinas. See why the wind comes through there? Yeah.

Right on time, the boat turned 180 degrees and the fun began. Yes, the wind DOES come screaming across the salt flats there. But more to the point, we’ve never seen that little fetch, maybe 1/2 mile, create such big waves. What gives with that? We figured we’d get some whitecaps in the bay, but we were startled at the sheer size of the swell and wind waves that developed between the shore and our boat. I honestly cannot imagine what it must have been like on the other side of the island.

We did puzzles, read books, and ate bad food. Occasionally we’d poke our heads out, confirm that it still sucked out there, and then go below. We checked our anchoring gear. We realized we’d left our Mexican flag up and it was getting a real beating. Oh well. That was not going to come down until after the storm. The storm blew our man overboard pole out of its holder. We got to that before any damage was done. We discovered a halyard that was clanking against the mizzen mast. We lived with the clanking every time the boat turned a certain way for the duration of the storm. Galapagos dodged and weaved her figure 8 anchoring dance like a boxer facing a viscious opponent.

Looking towards shore as the winds start to increase. Already too sporty out there.

We were stuck there in those conditions for 2 1/2 days. The motion below was not great but could have been worse considering that being outside, even in our protected cockpit, was not an option. One thing we both love about our boat is the many choices we have for sleeping areas. When the boat motion is nasty in one part of the boat, we move to another part. I’m never going back to small boats after this, I tell you. It makes a big difference when you can get a little sleep during a storm.

Part of the ‘ghost town’ at Bahia Salinas. Sorry, no ghosts present.

We saw winds over 40 knots, higher than the predicted 28. The first night another boat came in after the wind started. They anchored an experienced-cruiser distance away. Checking with them after the storm they reported winds of 50 on their anenometer. I don’t know, that seems high to me but what do I know about wind speed? What I do know is there was this sense of solidarity that every other cruiser in the Sea of Cortez was hunkered down somewhere riding this storm out. Somehow, that was comforting to me.

Our big Mantus anchor saw us through once more. We have a lot of faith in that anchor now, but we have learned that it will drag when the conditions are right. Those conditions appear to be a sandy bottom and a change in wind direction. I guess that’s reasonable when you set the anchor in one direction and then the boat turns. The anchor must reset itself. This anchor generally does. I say generally because once at an anchorage down on Isla Espiritu Santo we had to pull it up and reset it when the boat began gently drifting for some unknown reason. It had been firmly set. We always, 100% of the time, back down on the anchor and make sure it’s set firmly. And yet, this one time it dragged in really pretty benign conditions. But that’s another story.

The storm eventually died down, as storms do. We reset the anchor closer to shore and went to explore the salt flats and the ‘ghost town’. There are no ghosts there, by the way. The only invisible beings that presented themselves were the NoSeeums. They will eat you alive. I guess it’s part of the adjustment to warmer weather that we now need to just go ahead and DEET up before we go to shore anywhere. I had easily 50 bites on my arms and they took more than a week to go away. I discovered that rubbing a raw lime on the bumps helped with the itching considerably. The relief lasts for several hours, then you just do it again. Limes: the new Coconut Oil. There’s your cruising hint for the day.

A lovely nudibranch from Bahia Ballandra.

Nudibranch, Bahia Ballandra. The colors of the animal are true, but the background is grayer than it should be. A beautiful thing.

Here are a couple of updates: the holding tank is leaking again. Fortunately it’s not as bad as it was before, so the tape is helping quite a bit. We have a containment system for any overflow, so we won’t have to do massive cleanup if it fails completely. We can get almost a week of cautious use before the leak happens. We’ll have to put in a new tank at haulout. Put that on the list.

Remember that ‘short term’ fix we did on the leaking hatches about two years ago? It’s still holding. But we rebedded one anyhow as the tape was starting to look ratty. Good stuff, that aluminum tape. I love good tape. That’s two for three done.

The water is warm enough for swimming now! It’s lovely to be able to swim without a wetsuit.

We’re going home! That’s an exclamation point of excitement. We have a kid getting married (yes, that’s two for two in two years) in August and want to be home to help with wedding preparations. We have to renew our visa in July, so we’ve decided to just go home July 2. Actually I am quite excited to go home for awhile.  I look forward to getting the garden spiffed up and doing a few home-owner projects, not to mention seeing people. We’ve lived there so long that I cannot help but feel anchored to that place and all the folks we know. We will have to decide what to do with our house now, a decision that is harder than it sounds like it should be. To rent it or to sell it outright. We struggle with this probably more than many people would.

We’ll be leaving Galapagos on a mooring ball here in Puerto Escondido. It was a hard decision as it would be cheaper to put her on the hard across the sea in San Carlos or Guaymas. Lots of people do that. Many people also stay in La Paz, but we ruled that out early. We like the idea of leaving her in the water, but not the idea of leaving her on a dock. We like this place. It’s like a fortress with the mountains surrounding it on all sides. The moorings are new and we have hired someone to come check the boat every month, turn on the engine, and make sure the mooring is sound. He will also provide us with a stronger shackle and pendant. Anytime you leave your boat there is a risk, but we feel pretty confident that she will be safe here. For once, we’re just doing the easiest thing for us. We can fly out of Loreto and be home in less than 9 hours.

I’ll leave you with a couple of fun photos from a recent visit to Bahia Ballandra on Isla Carmen. A nice place, that.

S/V Galapagos, Out!

Mike and our nephew Reid fishing at Bahia Ballandra.

That fishing trip resulted in this delicious albacore tuna. Fish tacos!

 

 

Mission de San Fransisco Javier de Viggé Biaundó

We’re still hanging out in the Puerto Escondido general area enjoying being with friends from S/V Blue and S/V Slow Motion for just a bit longer. Sometimes you meet people who just click with you. They are both hauling out and putting their boats on the hard for the season at the end of the month, so we’re enjoying some last few days with them. We never know what activity we’re going to be doing when we meet up with them, but we know whatever it is, it’s going to be fun.

A game of Goat Spotting, aptly played by Lynn.

Yesterday our friends Curt and Lynn Browlow on S/V Slow Motion rented a car that turned out to be a Jeep Cherokee. This is not the usual rental car offered for 40$/day through the marina. Those are generally the ‘plain vanilla no power anything’ vehicles that are basic transportation. Since they had a comfortable vehicle with air conditioning, they invited us to come with them up into the mountains to the almost ancient Jesuit Mission de San Fransisco Javier de Viggé Biaundó, built in 1744.

We really enjoy a good historical church, and do our best to focus on the love and care that went into the building of such a place. But even so we are not immune to the sorrow we feel as we think about how much pain and suffering the missionaries generally bring to the native populations of places where they feel compelled to go in order to ‘save the souls’ of otherwise happily existing peoples. In this case, the Jesuit’s goal was to christianize the native indians who had lived on this land for centuries, hunting and gathering in their nomadic lifestyle. The missionaries planned to change all of that way of life for the native people and, alas, the population suffered dramatically, as is so often the case, and many died of imported illnesses such as smallpox.  Still, the building is fantastic and at this point, it’s all water under the proverbial bridge. We can’t change what is done.

Such a beautiful place.

So, a drive through a mountain pass with air conditioning, ending in a visit to an interesting and beautiful ancient mission? Browsing-goat spotting on the way? Yes, please! We weren’t sure if it was 45 miles, 45 kilometers, or 45 minutes of driving to get to the mission, but whatever, let’s go!

The road to the mission is actually a good road with hardly any holes, a good thing in a winding mountain road. Curt made the driving look easy as he slalomed up the switchbacks and over low areas where mountain springs trickled across the road. I hardly ever had an opportunity to put my foot through the floor on my imaginary backseat brake or white-knuckle the convenient handles installed above the doors. Hardly ever.

The road ends at the small town where the mission is located. Sighting the mission domes through the palm trees we were already enchanted before we parked and approached the door. Mike was met immediately by a local man who gestured for us to follow him and proceeded to give us a small tour of the grounds far behind the church. I don’t think he was a ‘tour guide’ per se, but he was a man who had discovered a way to make some money by giving tourists a view they wouldn’t ordinarily get otherwise. We decided to follow along.

He explained that he lives right next to the mission and that the town has 180 people, a number he drew in the sand to be sure I understood. He represented his town as a peaceful place where people get along and there is no crime. The path he led us on ran right next to his own cornfield.

We put a donation into a small wooden box at the little palapa where a young man sat at a desk with a book for us to sign. We put our names, where we were from, then whether we were men or women. Interesting, that.

Following our guide along the trail, he led us to a magnificent olive tree, planted when the mission was founded. This tree alone was worth the donation fee. If you are sensitive to old trees, you’d appreciate the feeling of this one; a long and slow thrumming just beneath the surface. It still bears olives, although none of us could understand enough Spanish to know if they harvest them.

This olive tree! Have to admire anything with the determination to live this long and this well.  Here we are with 2/3 of the ‘gang of 6’: Curt and Lynn Brownlow.

At the top of the rise, he showed us the irrigation methods the Jesuits used. This is an area that has a natural water source and it’s an oasis in an otherwise hostile land. There are fruit trees and fresh water fish are in the cistern. They even grow water-hungry roses by the mission. Water comes in through a channel at the high end and trickles out through a channel in the low end, allowing for irrigation of crops and fruit trees.

The original irrigation cistern has been repaired over the years but is still going strong. It took the Jesuits a number of years to finally locate the mission here, where there was enough water to grow crops.

At the end of our tour our guide stuck out his hand to be paid for the tour. Huh? I thought we paid at the palapa. But this is where traveling in Mexico and not knowing much of the language yet leads to misunderstandings. It’s better to just pay the small amount of extra and move on, not really knowing if we’re paying twice or not. It was still a bargain. We each paid him about 1$ for his 20 minute tour and put about 1$ into the ‘official’ money box.

By the time we were ready to go inside the mission and look around the temperature had risen. With its cool and shady stone interior, the mission offered respite to its congregants from more than their spiritual suffering. I can imagine on a hot Sunday, people might be OK with the minister going on and on from his pulpit.

This lizard lives in one of the Mesquite trees on the property. Photo is courtesy of Curt Brownlow, who does great lizard photographs. I believe this is a Collared Lizard.

We ended our great day by meeting Kevin and Cressie Baerg of S/V Blue back in Loreto for ice cream and a trip to the local grocery store. As cruising days go, it was about as perfect as you can get.

The ‘Blue’s and the ‘Slow Motion’s were supposed to be leaving the dock today and making their way north to Guaymas and San Carlos to haul their boats out for the season and go back home. Alas for them they were delayed a day as they needed to fill up with water from the dock before they left and the water to the dock wasn’t working today. That’s a good example of how plans go awry with this lifestyle. Sorry for them, but glad for us: we got them for an additional evening of convivial fun!

We’ll be hanging out in this general area for awhile as my sister and nephew are coming in the middle of the month to spend a week with us on the boat. We now know enough about schedules and cruising that we are playing it safe, sticking close to Loreto until they get here to be sure we are here when they arrive. We are so excited to have family visiting!

A few more photos from the day:

The cool stone, the simple lines, the colorful icons – I find these things to be soothing and peaceful.

A tiny staircase leading up to the bell tower is locked. Dang it.

 

There is a small graveyard, names and dates engraved on iron crosses. One man lived to be 100 years old. Must have been doing something right.

Behind the mission.

S/V Galapagos, Out.

 

 

 

 

Everything Here Will Kill You

Hello, readers! We’re still in the Sea of Cortez, sometimes hunkered down against weather, sometimes snorkeling in clear waters, sometimes hiking through rough and tumble arroyos and scrambling over rocks. What we aren’t doing lately is updating our position page. It’s not that we are going dark on you, at least not by choice. It’s that our illustrious Iridium Go, the unit we pondered over for months before making a decision, the unit that has given us updated weather while at sea, has allowed us to post to Facebook while off grid, that dependable unit, has gone bad on us. One day it worked fine and I posted an update to Facebook. The next day it began an ‘Initializing’ loop and refused to connect to the satellites. The magnitude of our irritation cannot be overstated here.

Cordón Cactus

This is a significant piece of communications equipment for us and while we should be grateful this didn’t happen in the middle of the fricking Pacific Ocean, its steadying presence keeping families apprised of our position, the ability to send them emails, and the ability of family to contact us if necessary is sorely missed. There is no cellular service in the Sea of Cortez unless you are close to a population center. The population centers are few and far between. If there is anything we have learned in our travels here so far, it’s that most people who live in this region live a very remote life. Back home you have to travel pretty far to be ‘remote’. Here, it’s a matter of a day of sailboat traveling. It’s easy to minimize this fact when you are looking at a map, or when you are talking to people who come here on their boats but hang out, really, at the population centers like La Paz or Mazatlan.

We’ve been making way toward Loreto, where we know we can get cellular service, so we can work with customer service on this Iridium Go! issue. Meanwhile, since we have no way except VHF radio to contact the outside world, we’ve been grateful to notice other boats here and there and to stay in VHF contact with some of them. At least we know that in an emergency, we could get help if necessary. This is not an unimportant point since everything in this environment is made to kill or maim, if not through active aggression, then through passive resistance to being touched or encountered. You have to be careful out here. All the time and energy spent stocking our medical cabinet was well spent.
We like to hike the arroyos, scrambling over rocks, doing small amounts of chimney climbing, giving our old bodies more of a workout than they are accustomed to.

Mike views the cactus with the awe it deserves. And keeps his distance.

During one of these forays into the hot desert Mike found an interesting spider web, a dessicated lizard caught in its sticky web. He began poking the web with a stick, hoping the spider would come out. In my mind, I’m thinking, ‘Oh great, this is a spider that is big enough to eat a lizard, we’re out here completely alone and my husband is poking the thing with a stick to make it come out and defend its territory.’. I compelled him to stop. I’ve seen the Harry Potter movies. I know how big spiders can get. We moved on.

The rocks here are magnificent. I love them almost as much as I do the ones in our Four Corners area of the desert southwest of the United States. But they will maim you and if you are not careful worse things could happen. Actually, even when you are careful things happen. That’s why they call them ‘accidents’. On another one of our scrambles up an arroyo my knee punished me severely for pushing off a rock to reach another rock. It wasn’t that I was doing anything wrong. I had apparently just done too much of a good thing and it decided enough was enough.

One mile up the canyon, I felt a disconcerting pulling sensation which immediately, in my brain, translated to, “Shit! This is going to hurt later.”. The word ‘later’ here means in about 60 seconds, when it truly registered that I had hurt myself in the middle of a hot pile of rocks. Make that ‘in the middle of nowhere’. Calling for help would not have been an option. Why? Because the damned Iridium Go! was useless, bringing home to me just how vulnerable we were out there in the desert. The mind began to wander towards Mike having to leave me there and go get help, helicopters having to land in the Outback to transport me to the nearest medical facility, tears running down my leathered cheeks. Thank goodness we bought that DAN Diver’s Network emergency evacuation service. I told my mind to shut the hell up and,  blessedly fortunate that I could technically still walk, ‘spider monkeyed’ down that arroyo on all fours mostly and back to the boat. I’ve given birth to a 10 pound baby. This was nothing to me.

For the record, this right knee has been hurt many times. By the time you are our age, you’ve collected a number of injuries over the years and some of them create weakness in a body part. This right knee has to be babied a bit and I forget that in the joy of rock scrambling, which makes me feel really alive. So it’s very unlikely I’m going to give that up completely. It’s no good telling me to be careful. Just ask my mother.

Can you blame us for wanting this view?

This is such a hostile environment. You know, we’re from the Pacific Northwest. Barring an encounter with a disgruntled bear or cougar (rare as rare) nothing there is going to hurt you much. You can climb up rocks and scurry down paths without being cautious about where you put your feet, your hands, etc. Fortunately, my parents are both from Texas and growing up they instilled in us that you don’t put hands anywhere in the wilderness before checking first. In this desert, this is very good advice. Due to their excellent tutelage, and the solid memory of my mother grabbing my sister’s hand and running screaming down the hill away from a rattlesnake sunning on a stump, I am constantly on the lookout for snakes, but I’ve never so much as heard one here. Yet. I carry my snakebite kit. Perhaps they know this and move on. Their venom would find no purchase in us. I’ve seen the original  ” True Grit”, starring John Wayne. I know what to do. A whole generation of movie goers knows what to do.

Snakes are one thing, but even things that are not poisonous are sharp and pokey. From the tiniest little grass-like plant to the scrubby shrubs, everything is protecting itself from something else. Hiking up a hill, it’s sometimes necessary to use a small shrub or tree to stabilize yourself. Look first, touch second here. Otherwise, you are likely to get a nasty surprise.

Beautiful flower. Don’t touch.

Even the fish have spines and stingers. Shuffling my feet through the shallows, I’m grateful for my time as a child at the beach at the Gulf of Mexico where I learned about stingrays. We don’t have those in the Salish Sea. You can walk a mudflat without worrying about anything worse than hypothermia.

Here we’ve seen all kinds of rays, all of them with stingers we never want to encounter. (I understand my snakebite kit is useful for stingray stings as well, but I don’t want to test that.) We shuffle through the sea with abandon. The sea here is glorious, full of life and with water warm enough that you can encounter creatures previously enjoyed only through the efforts of Jacques Cousteau. Just don’t touch anything if you don’t know what it is. Snorkeling on Isla Espiritu Santo we saw 5 Moray Eels in one day. The next day it was two octopi, plus eels. It was the best snorkeling ever. Mike got ink-squirted by an octopus. He’s the ‘chosen one’.

Thanks to Curt Brownlow on S/V Slow Motion for taking this photo of us in the blistering sun. Why yes, I actually do carry this parasol with me on hikes. The sun will kill you, too.

Anyhoo, as I write this up we’re sitting pretty in Puerto Escondido with the gang all here. Kevin Baerg on S/V Blue, whom we haven’t seen since Thanksgiving back in San Diego, is here. Hurrah! His mate Cressie will be back on Monday and we can’t wait to see her. Curt and Lynn Brownlow on S/V Slow Motion are here. They tried to escape us but we keep finding them. The folks on S/V Passport and S/V Grey Goose are both here. Nice to see them, too. Just when I think I can’t go another day without being in touch with something or somebody familiar, we enter a port and find a ready group of good friends. What a blessing that is. I say to Mike it’s like being in college without the threat of school failure if you don’t spend more time studying. We’re so glad to be here.

Puerto Escondido will be seeing a lot of Galapagos. We love it here. There is just enough ‘civilization’ here with the nice little tienda selling gringo stuff from Costco, plus some fresh fruits and vegetables; the wonderful pizza restaurant up top, the helpful staff at the marina, where you can rent a car for 40$ a day all included (except gas). Loreto is just 14 miles down the road. The islands are close enough to touch. The water at the dock is potable and the pumpouts are free. It’s like living in a medieval fortress with the one narrow entry, surrounded by tall mountains and the sea. It’s absolutely the best place we’ve been so far. I think we’ll stay awhile.

Mike considers: Will this sea cave eat us up? Or will it play nice? It was a nice cave, but we didn’t tempt fate.