After watching the weather predictions for two weeks, I had a short two day space in which the northerlies that have been streaming down out of the Gulf of California would subside somewhat. Taking that advice, I left La Cruz at first light on Monday morning. A beautiful sunrise over the mountains behind Banderas Bay bid me farewell. I also got a wave from a playful young humpback cavorting off to port near Punta de Mita. It all seemed a like a great omen for a good passage. And in most respects, it was.

I used some waypoints provided by the cruising guide to motor around the rocks near Punta de Mita. Once well clear, I set a course for Mazatlán. There was still some wind out of the north, but not a lot and the sea state was still a bit sloppy from the previous wind. All in all, it was quite tolerable.

And then my electric autopilot, which I thought I had repaired in Puerto Vallarta, began to act up. Eventually, it would not hold a course at all. I suspect that having left out a step when purging the system, I did not do the job well enough. Once I understood that step, I should have gone back and redone the job. But the combination of its inaccessibility and the fact that it worked for a couple of hours in Banderas Bay, dissuaded me. Now I was going to pay the price.

So I began to hand steer. Actually, I would steer to a point on the horizon. When I thought I had the sweet spot where the boat would stay on course, I would set the wheel break. Altere would hold her course for four to five minutes and then gradually, due to the effects of waves and wind, begin to wander off. Then I would repeat the procedure. For a couple of hours during the night, I lay on my back in the cockpit looking aft at a bright star (possibly a planet) and steered to that. Later, I used the two lower stars of Orion. In the wee hours of the morning, when I was beginning to “hit the wall” with fatigue, I kept the big dipper in place relative to the boat, this time looking forward.

There was a three quarter moon and the sea was lovely. It gradually settled down as I motored northward. When the sun came up, I seemed to get more energy. By noon, I could see Mazatlán ahead and a bit to starboard. Very encouraging. By 2 pm, I had passed the commercial harbor and was passing the city and three islands that border its western shore.

At 3 pm, very fatigued and ready for a rest, I called the Marina El Cid, the first marina just inside the entrance. Bad news. I had arrived at low tide. I was asked to wait for two hours before entering the narrow entrance. I had no choice but to roll with it, both figuratively and literally, as the wind had begun to come up and waves were building. I drifted downwind until the appointed hour and then entered the harbor.

The entrance was not only narrow but included some turns. Waves were breaking in front of a reef to starboard and also on the jetty dead ahead. Altere surfed just a bit as we hit the harbor entrance and then I found myself caught in a powerful flood current. It was like a giant vacuum cleaner had sucked the boat up. I had a moment of insight, thinking back to the map showing a vast estuary that lay behind this portal, and then I had my hands full maneuvering the boat. Very quickly the river of current swept me inside and I was passing Marina El Cid rapidly. I managed to get lines and fenders out while avoiding drifting into large objects, including the water taxi, which kept crossing where I was working. Finally, I was directed to a dock where some others took lines. Given the wind and current, I would have had my hands full to dock by myself in that spot. I was thankful for the help. And then, suddenly, I was tied safely to the dock and the adrenaline stopped flowing.

I went up to the resort to have a hamburger and a beer. Then I went back to the boat and fell into a comatose like sleep.