2008 Baja Ha Ha 11.4.08
04 November 2008 | Bahia Santa Maria
Author: Paul; Weather: nice and sunny
November 4, 2008 - Tuesday
First, there was no email from November 3 as I sort of tacked that on the end of the November 2 email and this one won't get sent until November 5, so we should have a new president by the time you get this email. I voted via absentee ballot before I left so I am glad I got to participate while at the same time missed all the last minute advertisements. I'm sure that they'll fill us in with the results during tomorrow morning's net (the check-in/roll call thing). In fact, you may recall that we are using VHF 69 for the net and this morning they asked people to use channel 18 to keep the fleet posted on all election results - those with Sirus will relay results they are able to gather.
As you know, we have a very irregular sleeping schedule between the middle of the night shifts and then a day here and there at anchor. Last night, though was pretty close to my normal routine and it was nice. We were all tired from having sailed two days to get to Bahia Santa Maria so we went to bed by 9:00 p.m. I woke up by 6:00 a.m. and made coffee and sat on deck for a bit - it was post card perfect. First, we are surrounded by another 100 + boats and they are all gently rocking at anchor in response to the swells that are making their way to shore. When the swells get there (maybe 200 yards from our boat), they break, not with a California type roar, but with at least a pretty good crash. The sun was not up yet, but its glow was obvious as it approaches the horizon. It did not appear as though anyone on the other boats was up yet and I have not heard the fishermen go by on their panga boats yet. It is like I have the whole place to myself.
At 6:30, the outdoor temperature was 72 degrees and the water temperature was 83. This water temperature is a couple degrees warmer than normal. Again, the amount of green vegetation on shore is pretty amazing. However, I have only been here once before, so maybe the green is normal. On the other hand, this is VERY much a desert down here, so I think that this must be a result of the hurricane. In case you were wondering where Bahia Santa Maria is, look on a map of Baja. You should see two "hook" type places where the coast first dips to the east and then juts back out to west. The first (northern most) of these two is at Turtle bay (maybe � down baja?) and the second (the most southern of the two hooks) is where Bahia Santa Maria is. If you do look at the map, you will see a massive bay called Magdalena Bay and Bahia Santa Maria is just north and adjacent to that huge bay - they are separated by only a narrow strip of land.
We took the panga to shore about noon or so and although it was still fun, it just wasn't as good as last year: the sand bar has changed and the tide was up, so the waves weren't as challenging. I filmed the ride in. We went up to the makeshift bar and had a beer. I came back to the boat and had my naked swim in the ocean, wrote for a little bit, and then went swimming again. I must say that I could get used to this life. The boat is gently rocking and in the distance I can hear the waves breaking on shore. More close at hand, the wind is blowing pretty good and I can hear it whistling through the rigging on the boat. I have some music playing on the computer. The others are still on shore so for the time being this is a clothing optional boat.
We take off for Cabo early tomorrow (by the time most of you get this we will either be in port or near it) and it will take about a day and 10 hours to get there.
I again apologize for the boring entries, but I guess the joy of cruising is the days all blending together and there being no pressing choirs to attend to. Even on a "regular" vacation there is some museum to see, or some attraction to get to - Lord knows I'm as guilty of that as anyone. With cruising, even when you are getting to where you need to be (for instance leaving on the last leg of the voyage to Cabo in the morning), you don't do it quickly and have hours and hours to kill while getting there. Again, for instance, on the leg we start tomorrow, we will have about 34 hours to fill. You read, write, work (if you have work to do) at your leisurely pace. If the water conditions are rough enough to warrant taking sea sickness pills, you get drowsy and might slip off into a 15 minutes nap now and then, wake up, and resume whatever you were doing when you fell asleep. The way I describe sailing it sounds horribly boring, but it isn't and it has been wonderful.
Alison had a great analogy the other day in that she said a night watch on a clear, moonless night must feel like space travel She. On one of my shifts (the night the radar was broken, which if I didn't mention, is fixed again) it was so dark I could not see my hand at arms length from my face. There is a trick that if you see a distant boat, you hold your thumb up (outstretched arm) and cover the boat with your thumb. If the boat "emerges" from the "front" of your thumb, the boat will ultimately cross your bow (front). If it emerges from "behind" your thumb, it will ultimately cross your stern (back). If it just stays hidden behind your thumb, you better do something because you are on a course where the two of you will collide. This may sound obvious to you, but it is true even if you are not pointed right at each other. When it is dark out, you would be amazed how hard it is to tell what direction a boat at a distance is traveling.
Anyway, because we all had to pay special attention on the night the radar was out, there was one time when there was a boat to the front and right of me (off my starboard bow at 2 o'clock) and I tried to do the "thumb" test, but it was so dark, I couldn't see my thumb! I could not see the horizon (you might think that the sudden absence of stars would indicate the horizon, but due to the atmosphere and the humidity at the horizons, there is not a real clear line. Rather, the stars slowly fade as they get to the horizon. The only thing you can see is the stars and the lights on any boats in your area. In the absence of boats, the only thing you see are the stars, thus the astronaut analogy.
That's it. I'll stop rambling.
Paul.