I lost track of the days. I thought it was our third there in Ensenada de los Muertos. We hadn't yet taken the bait that tempted so many others to scurry north ahead of the predicted "storm". It really didn't even sound like a storm to me, ...20 to 25 knot north winds and two to three foot waves. More of our friends had pulled their boats out, though, and pressure mounted for us to move on. Kevin decided it was time for him to go and I was compelled by my use of his son's crewing services to follow suit.

I had experimented again with a stern anchor to hold Mabrouka's hind quarters against the cross wind and her nose pointed up swell. The late morning wind was still brisk, so it took some effort to loosen our hold on the Los Muertos sands, but we managed and soon set the main and mizzen to motor sail past the mansions on Punta Perico to the passage between the mainland and Isla Cerralvo.

Turning northward, we decided there was nominally enough breeze to shut down the engine and unfurled the genny, too. We set the hand line for what would turn out to be a fruitless fishing day and settled in to a long tack between mainland Baja and Isla Cerralvo, heading toward a left turn through Canal de San Lorenzo at the southern tip of Isla Espiritu Santo.

That was it for the majority of that day, ...whatever day it was. The setting remained idyllic, but Zach was pensively plotting how to make cruising into a career and the day passed quietly. We sailed some, we motored some. We experienced our most exciting moments as we nosed our way through San Lorenzo and a small bat ray decided to entertain us with a couple acrobatic jumps.

We'd decided to make Puerto Balandra our next anchorage, holding onto paradise for one or two more days before getting to the relative bustle of La Paz. Andante, which always makes the most dependable progress as the only motor vessel in our little company, diverted to check out Playa Bonanza as an alternative. My guidebook flaunts aerial photos of all these places, pictorially bragging turquoise water and white sand beaches, and Bonanza was no different. The other temptations of Bonanza were a shorter day and nominal protection from the building northwest wind, but Kevin pronounced that his recommendation remained with Balandra, so on we went.

We passed through San Lorenzo and turned left for the short southerly leg to our anchorage, arriving well after dusk. We set anchor in about twenty feet of water a hundred feet from a rocky cliff that seemed a little imposing, but not ominous. Reflecting back on the sheltering cliffs of Desolation Sound, it seemed almost protective. The water was calm and the wind only moderate. Odds and ends were scrounged up for dinner and I settled into the remainder of a bottle of wine, treating Zach to a concert of Tom Waits and Keb' Mo before bed.