Mazatlan to Matanchen Bay

Mazatlan is an easy city to get around in thanks to an excellent bus system.  We took a bus across town with Rick and Rosanna of Tension Reliever to explore the marinas and buy some boat parts.  On the way home, we had a late lunch at La Canoa where we enjoyed live music and two-for-one margaritas.  The rest of the day was lost, but we found our way home on the bus.  On a more productive bus trip, the four of us took a bus to go shopping for provisions and easily got our groceries home on the bus.

Lunch and margaritas at La Canoa

We eat out very infrequently.  When we do, we try to make it an event.  During one of our walks around town, we took a table for lunch at a beachside restaurant called El Faro where we were waited on by Jesse, the owner.  Jesse once lived in California and we enjoyed talking with him.  After taking our order, he came back to our table with a surprise - a Southern Mexico delicacy, fried crickets.  They were tender with a smoky flavor.  Trisha ate one under duress.  I ate the other three.  My enthusiasm was rewarded with a second helping of crickets. 

Derrick sampling a fried cricket

On Saturday the weather looked pretty good for making the passage south to Matanchen Bay.  We were mildly concerned because it was going to be windy, but we would be sailing downwind.  By 1130 we were out of the harbor and on our way south.  The first four hours were great sailing with winds at ten to fifteen knots and moderate following seas.  In the late afternoon, the wind piped up to fifteen to twenty knots and we shortened sail.  The seas were building to six feet ore more on the starboard quarter.  It wasn’t the most comfortable ride, but we were happy to be making way under sail.  It was almost midnight when the wind died and we had to resort to motor sailing.

It was a dark, moonless night and the stars were shinning brilliantly.  We were amazed by all of the celestial details we could see.  Looking low in the southern sky it was a treat to see the Southern Cross, a constellation we have seen before but only when visiting the tropics.   At about three in the morning, our friend the moon peeked over the horizon and helped light our way.  Dawn approached just in time to help us navigate through the unlit fishing boats pulling in their nets.  By 0930, we were at anchor in Matanchen Bay.

Mazatlan

Stone Island anchorage was a nice place to rest so long as the wind was blowing.  The first two nights we saw fifteen to twenty-five knots from the northwest and the boat was steady.  Each day we made the spirited dinghy trip out of the protection of the anchorage into the open water around Isla Chivos and on to the Club Nautico facilities behind the breakwater.  The return trips were wild rides with heavy afternoon winds blowing us home over large following waves.  Trisha wasn’t the big fan of either direction.  On our last day at the anchorage we took the dinghy ashore on Isla Chivos, explored Stone Island Beach, and had a shrimp and garlic pizza at Pizza Benji’s.  That night the wind died and the absence of northwest wind waves allowed a southern swell to enter the anchorage and we rolled the night away.  It was time to move into the harbor.

Trisha made a new friend

Mazatlan harbor is a busy place and the entrance is quite narrow.  Port control manages the traffic and requires that vessels contact them for clearance before entering or leaving the harbor.  With my weak Spanish this was an intimidating proposition.  I put together a little script for the occasion, knowing that I would be in over my head if things got complicated.  Fortunately, when I hailed port control in English a thick accent responded in English.  We were soon anchored in the calm waters of Old Harbor ready to explore the city.

Old Harbor had it’s hey day in the years before the marinas were constructed (ten or more years ago?).  The sailboats at anchor here now are, what Trisha likes to call, scrappy cruisers.  There is no charge for anchoring and the only available dinghy dock is at Club Nautico.  The club charges fifty pesos (about four bucks) a day for dinghy docking, internet, taking trash, and showers.  This is definitely the other side of the tracks.  Five miles away is the marina harbor were a slip for Interabang would cost more than forty dollars a day.

Trisha studies the map of Old Town

The cool thing about Old Harbor is its proximity to Old Town, a well maintained historic district, and the light house.  We enjoy shopping for groceries in the open market, a building that takes up an entire city block and has about a hundred vendor booths inside.  The space is organized by product type and grocery shopping requires wandering through the vegetable, meat, and packaged food areas.  As if we aren’t doing enough walking already, we climbed the steep hill to the lighthouse for exercise.  There we met a New Yorker that lives in Mazatlan.  He gave us an interesting local history lesson, provided some sightseeing and shopping tips, and took our picture with Interabang at anchor in the background.  

Interabang is the boat closest to the left of Trisha's head

The Crossing

The five mile trip exiting the La Paz channel brought back vague memories of limping in during heavy weather two weeks earlier.  Once out of the channel, the wind was on our nose as we motor-sailed across the bay and past the hazards of the San Lorenzo Channel (named for a ship that was lost there).  Finally, we turned south and twenty knots of wind and a strong current were pushing us on our way.  It took all day to sail the sixty miles back to Los Muertos and it was dark when we dropped anchor.  Now we needed confirmation that the weather window was holding for the 200 mile crossing to Mazatlan on the mainland.

We got the green light the next afternoon.  The forecast on the cruiser’s net called for forty-eight hours of favorable winds and seas in the southern crossing.  In addition to the weather, we were concerned about avoiding the notorious fishing nets in the waters around Mazatlan.  We calculated that the passage would take thirty hours.  Leaving at 0400 would have us arriving with plenty of light for dodging fishing nets. As nightfall approached, big waves began rolling into the anchorage causing the boat to roll wildly and making sleep impossible.  By midnight we had enough and decided to get and early, sleepless start on our passage.  Within the hour, the anchor was up and we were headed for the mainland. 

The first half of the passage was uneventful with light winds and a fair amount of motoring.  At the halfway point, the wind and waves were building out of the southeast.  We were beating into fifteen to twenty knot winds with four to six foot waves on the forward quarter.  It was a rough ride.  With the strength of gusts increasing, we were fearful that we might be experiencing the leading edge of a storm.  Trisha thought to tune in the afternoon weather update on the cruiser’s net.  Next thing I knew she was having a conversation with Don Anderson, the weather man located near Los Angeles, and two other boats making the crossing within a hundred miles of our position.  Positions and weather conditions were compared and Don concluded that his forecast was correct and the winds would be decreasing.  His personalized forecast was a huge relief.  Over the next several hours it became reality.

We were happy to see the sun come up after the second night of our passage.  Each of us had only about three hours sleep over forty-eight hours and the sleep deprivation was causing some minor hallucinations.  We were twenty miles from Mazatlan when I noticed a black flag bobbing in the water about fifty yards ahead.  We were about to hit a fishing net.  I turned off the autopilot and turned sharply to port.  There were black flags every quarter mile or so with barely visible floats in between.  We traveled along the net for a mile and a half before we could get around it.

Second highest lighthouse in the world

 Once back on course, the mainland soon came into view.  By late morning we got a clear view of the second highest lighthouse in the world.  We were in Mazatlan.  We picked our way into the Stone Island anchorage and dropped the hook.  Interabang was the only boat at anchor.  We tidied her up, took showers and relaxed.  As the sun went down the sea and the sky were just beautiful.  A couple of pangas quietly fished behind us and dolphins swam all around.  Maybe it was the relief of having completed the passage, or maybe the sleep depravation, or maybe it was just as awesome as it seemed, but sitting there in the cockpit enjoying the scenery in the twilight was magical.

Leaving La Paz

 

After just a couple of weeks in La Paz, we came to understand why many cruisers end their voyaging here.  It is a sweet place to call home.  La Paz is also a great place to prepare for the next passage.  Despite our weak to nonexistent Spanish, we were able to locate most all of the parts we needed to complete a long list of boat projects.  After scavenging at a dozen or so hardware stores where no one spoke English, we had developed our own style of communication.  The combination of Spanglish, physical animation, and sound effects was not always successful but was always appreciated by the locals, frequently earning a smile and a pat on the back.  The boat was soon made ready for the trip.  For provisioning, the challenge was moving the booty from the store to the boat.  Choosing to minimize expenses and maximize exercise, we refused to take a cab.  Each day one or both of us would make the three mile round trip to the Mega store carrying back as much as we could handle.  Life got easier when Trisha negotiated a deal with Judy on Pura Vida, a pair of shoes in exchange for a little handcart and a few other items.  The little red cart significantly increased our capacity for trips to the store.  On the first trip, the cart returned with a load of beer, milk, rice, canned goods, etc.  Little did we know, negotiating the bumpy sidewalks and dropping off of the high curbs was taking its toll on the cart’s wheels.  On the second trip, the wheels were done.  Broken and wobbly, they barely made it back to the boat.  That afternoon we went to our favorite hardware store and found a stout pair of replacements.  With some minor modifications, the new wheels were installed and the cart was back on the track.

We had planned to spend more time in the La Paz area exploring the many islands, but the weather was not cooperating.  It was an unusual weather year.  We had seen heavy rain twice during, what should be, the dry season.  In addition, Northers were blowing through regularly.  With each system, the wind would blow hard for two to three days and then it would take an additional day for the seas to settle down.  The tropical weather of the Mexico mainland was calling our name.  The islands of La Paz will have to wait for our trip north next spring.

We had been in the marina for a couple of weeks and it was time to move the boat.  Should we just start our passage to the mainland?  The weather forecast showed a favorable weather window for the next couple of days.  High tide was mid morning.  After that, the current would carry us south.  All the ducks were lined up.  It was time to start our crossing to Mazatlan.

La Paz (The Peace)

We were happy to have the 150 nautical mile gauntlet to La Paz behind us.  It has been said that sailors have a poor memories.  Why else would they subject themselves to the same miseries over and over again?  After a couple of nights in a peaceful anchorage, the memories of the wild times faded.  We seldom discuss the really scary parts of the experience, except when we meet other folks who were also anchored in Balandra Cove the night of the pineapple express.  In those conversations we wear the experience like a badge of courage, vividly recalling every detail.  We pulled out in the middle of the rough stuff at 0400, we explain.  “That was you?!” is the typical response.  No sense dwelling on the anchor dragging part of the story.

No better way to convalesce than with a ‘Welcome to La Paz’ beach party.  Several marinas, restaurants, and shops sponsored a great party for us new arrivals.  It was held at Stella’s, an Italian restaurant right on the beach.  The first twenty-five boats got in for free.  I think we were number two.  The margaritas were great.  The food was fabulous.  The mariachis were entertaining.  There were awesome folk dancers.  We danced and laughed with new friends.  We won a bottle of Don Julio tequila in the raffle.  It just doesn’t get much better than this.  That storm wasn’t so damn bad.

With Rick and Rosanna of Tension Reliever and
Jackie and Leif of Dodger Too at the beach party

La Paz is a large city with small town charm.  The people are friendly and easy going.  Gringos love La Paz and there is a large population of gringo retirees and cruisers.  After three days at anchor, we pulled into a slip at Marina de La Paz and enjoyed much easier access to the city and an unlimited supply of electricity, water and internet.  The space available was in the high rent district next to a 161 foot mega-yacht.

Interabang with mega-yacht Ostar 

We look forward to the challenge of shopping for groceries.  Obviously, everything is in Spanish and that can be a challenge.  Many of the US products that we are familiar with are available but costly so we either find a Mexican substitute or get by without.  The chicken is outstanding, whether barbequed or cooked in the pressure cooker it is much more flavorful than anything we find back home.  Vegetables are limited so Trisha has to get creative.  Finally, beer is $4 a six-pack and tequila (100% agave) is $10 a liter.  Nice.  Since it is a three mile walk round trip, what we buy is limited to what we can carry.  

Mexican folkdancers at the Welcome to La Paz Party

The Pineapple Express

After the first little sprinkle, there was another then another.  As the sun was setting a light rain began to fall.  We hoped that the rain would be heavy enough to rinse off the layer of salt that covered everything on the boat.  There were little streams of muddy water running down the white decks as the rain washed away some of the dust we picked up in Turtle Bay.  The salty windows on the dodger were getting clear again.  The crew on a neighboring boat scrubbed the decks.  Another boat hung out the laundry for rinsing in the rain.

We were tired after getting little sleep before rising at 0330 that morning.  We ate dinner and went to bed.  Trisha was nervous after our Los Muertos experience.  She was up and down checking on the anchor and the weather conditions.  At 0100, we were awoken by heavy, heavy rain.  We peered out from the cover of the dodger and saw rain falling harder than we had ever seen.  The wind was still light so we tried to ignore all the noise and get back to sleep.

At 0400, it hit the fan.  The wind had clocked around to the unprotected side of the anchorage and piped up to twenty to twenty-five knots.  Four to five foot waves were rolling in and the boat was rocking up and down like a hobby horse.  The wind and waves were pushing us toward shallow water.  The boat anchored behind us was unusually close.  It must have come in during the night.  I turned on the instruments, went to the helm, and began studying changes in GPS position and the depth.  The boat behind seemed to be getting closer and the depth of water under the boat was decreasing.  We were dragging anchor and it was time to “get the hell out of Dodge”.

As the engine warmed up we planned our escape.  Thankfully, the sky had cleared and a nearly full moon provided light for our task.  Trisha took the helm and began to motor us away from the boat behind.  As the boat moved forward, the anchor chain went slack and we were at the mercy of the wind and waves.  The wind caught the front of the boat and blew it around ninety degrees to port.  Next a big wave came in and pushed the boat sharply over.  We were barely keeping control.  Trisha turned the boat back out to open water.  I made my way forward on the rocking deck to pull up anchor.  The snubber was cleared quickly, but I was only able to retrieve a small amount of chain before the windlass stalled under a heavy load.  I looked over the side to see the chain angling back behind the boat.  Trisha was doing a great job getting us out of the anchorage but the boat’s engine was pushing us forward while the windlass was trying to pull us backward to get up the anchor.  I went back to the helm and asked her to throttle back long enough for me to get the chain up.  The wind caught us again.  Back on the bow, I bounced and waited with the windlass switch in my hand.  Each time a wave rolled through, the bow would drop, the chain would slacken, and I would take up as much chain as I could.  It was a tedious process.  Finally, the anchor popped out of the sandy bottom and I quickly got it up and in the bow roller.  Time to go!

I raced for the helm not taking the time to tidy things up.  The dinghy was not tied down, but we were free to go.  We motored slowly out of the anchorage and into the wind and big waves.  It was so nice to put land and the other boats at a safer distance behind us.  With howling wind and building seas, we clawed our way out to sea waiting for daylight.  Trisha wouldn’t let me go forward to secure the dinghy.  We hoped it would hang on.  The boat came off the top of one big wave with a huge splash that covered the entire boat with sea water.  Damn, we just got everything rinsed off.

The hours passed and the sky began to brighten in the east.  At about 0600, we turned the boat with the waves and headed for La Paz.  Waves were breaking on the shoal as we navigated the tight and complicated channel.  Miraculously, the dinghy was still on board.  In my hasty work on the foredeck, the dinghy’s painter got caught in the bathroom hatch and under the door to the anchor locker.  It wasn’t going anywhere.

At 0800, we listened to the cruisers net on the VHF radio.  The weather segment of the broadcast focused on the previous night’s rain and the Pineapple Express system that had blown through.

Needless to say, we did not pause during all of this to take pictures!

Los Muertos

Weather can ruin your whole day.

We got out of Cabo San Lucas early one morning because the forecast said a ‘norther’ weather system would move down the Sea of Cortez the following day.  The boats that made the trip to Los Frailes the day after us got hammered.  The weather kept us pinned down at anchor behind a mountain for five days.  On the sixth day, we made a sweet passage to Ensenada de los Muertos.

Los Muertos is a nice little anchorage well protected except from the east and southeast.   After a good night’s sleep, we went for a long walk on the beach and ate lunch at the cantina.

On the dinghy ride home we noticed that the winds had increased and the seas were building.  It was a wet ride.  To make matters worse, the wind and waves were coming from the east, pushing the boats at anchor toward the beach.  It was a bad scene.  We sat in the cockpit for hours making sure that the anchor was holding and monitoring wind speed and direction.  There was no improvement as daylight faded, so we stowed gear and prepared for a quick escape.  Just one problem, it was way too rough to get the dinghy back on board and towing in these conditions is a bad idea.  Getting the engine off and hoisted to the rail in four to six foot waves would be risky.  Pulling the dinghy on deck with a halyard in twenty knots of breeze would be like flying a kite.  We waited and hoped for the best.  Several boats raised anchor and got out of town, but so long as our anchor was holding we thought it best to stay put.  No sense trying to find our way into a strange new place in the dark if we don’t have to.  The good news came about 2100 when the winds lightened up considerably and shifted to the southwest.  Boats were no longer headed for the beach.  The bad news was that the waves to continued coming from the east.  The dinghy got stowed and we dreaded a sleepless night with wild rolling from side to side.  We radioed our friends Rick and Roseanna on Tension Reliever to discuss an exit strategy.  The plan was to take off in the morning at 0400 thereby catching the flood current that would speed us along to La Paz. 

Making great time with the current, we had covered more than forty miles by late morning.  As we neared La Paz, the flood ended and we decided to avoid navigating the tight and unfamiliar La Paz channel against an ebb tide.  We tucked into Balandra Cove, a beautiful little place ten miles short of our destination.  The Los Muertos experience seemed far away.  Trisha went below to read her book and I enjoyed a cigar in the cockpit.  Things were swell.  Suddenly, I felt a sprinkle of precipitation.  But this is the dry season?!