Lack of wind forces the diesel to take over and I spend a noisy day in calm seas 60 miles south to Bahai de Los Muertos. Arriving just before sunset (as planned for once) and have a peaceful night. Los Muertos is literally "Bay of the Dead" but ahs other meanings. The locals are apparently trying to change the name to Bahai de la Suene (Bay of dreams) for development purposes. That said, the only development is a small restaurant, but developers usually get their way.

The next day finds me winding down to Los Frailies (The Friars) which is the jump off point for the southern crossing to the mainland. More wind today so motor sail for the morning and just sailing in the afternoon. Sedating the motor with the pull of a switch, the noise deadens and peace returns to Carpe Ventus. At least until the first few drops of rain hit the roof. The first in Mexico, followed by a few more, then a deluge for 2 hours that soaks everything, mi capitan included. Awesome to watch, but the extra water seeps into dried out port holes, down torn canvas holes and everywhere it can discover entry. By the time I anchor, moisture rules the day, and turning the heater on in 20 C weather suddenly makes sense.


That night, as I ponder life in the cockpit, I hear a mammal breathing near the boat. The flashlight reveals an entire ecosystem under the keel. Thousands of small creatures (plankton?) swarm to the light, turning the ocean into a stew. Which attracts a swarm of 6" fish that feast on the stew. Which has attracted the mammal that I originally heard. A 6' long sea lion is hiding under the boat and feasting on the other fish. I can almost touch it as his tail is above the surface and he occasionally turns, breaths, eats, then hides again. This goes on for 30 minutes until I turn my attention back to my upcoming 3-day journey.

The next day I have the time to fix the leaks, but one of the panel meters seems dead. I can make do on just one meter, but the tally of the deceased is mounting. I take some time off to snorkel over by the rocks Los Frailes is named for. The recent winds make visibility bad but still hundreds of fish swarm about me as I invade their home. Back on board alone with a glass of wine and my worries, the sun slinks off to bed; while the sea calms. Nothing for her to do now but shudder with a few fish jumps, and wait to reflect the luminous moon. Tomorrow, I venture across the Sea.