The Pier in Altata, Mexico

It seemed to take forever to get out of Mazatlan!! After we found that we wouldn't have to replace the chainplates, Richard said it was time to replace the impeller. I helped him get the old one out of a place only a double-jointed gymnast with tiny hands could easily get to in the engine compartment. That was hard enough. Then he had to install the new one. That was hard enough. Then he had to insert a gasket and put the cover back on before the gasket fell out!! Well, not exactly, but close. He worked on that for two days and it continued to leak. He finally called for assistance. This was on Friday of course and Monday was Benito Juarez Day and a holiday, so finally about noon on Tuesday, a mechanic from the boatyard appeared. He knew what he was doing and in a couple of hours we were set. We prepared for a 9:00AM departure the next day.

Wednesday morning, we easily made it out of the harbor at high tide (Mazatlan harbor is tricky at mid to low tides) and were on our way to Altata. Richard does not want to go on any more treks where we have to be out at sea for more than one night, so going directly to La Paz from Mazatlan was not possible. That trip takes two nights and we would be going directly into the predominant wind and current of the Sea. It was our first overnighter in a while, but it was calm and an easy ride. We arrived in Altata at about 9:00AM, the best time to enter the channel leading to Altata. The channel is known to be a bit treacherous. We had spoken to someone who had recently been there who gave us explicit directions and gave us confidence that we could manage the entrance if we followed certain waypoints and the green and red entrance buoys.

Richard and I have been very simpatico these past five months on a boat, but when we are trying to figure out the best way to enter a harbor, it can get contentious. First of all, this is one of the wildest looking entrances that I've seen. From a great distance one can see waves breaking far from any sight of land. So when it looked like we were headed directly into those breakers as we entered the channel, I thought we were doomed and was screaming to not go that way!!! Richard kept checking the waypoints and insisting that we wouldn't run aground or feel any effects of those breakers...and it turned out, happily, that he was right. Once we got through the entrance, which really wasn't bad -- it just looked scary, we calmed down for the next 8 miles to Altata. It took us a couple of hours to go up the river to the city and anchorage. We arrived on Thursday morning of Semana Santo -- the week between Palm Sunday and Easter -- and the town, and the river was alive!! We were the only sailboat and only boat anchored in the anchorage located just off the main dock, but the river was filled with pangas pulling loads of laughing, screaming kids on big tubes up and down the river.

We had to check in with the Port Captain, who was handily located across the street from the main dock. Richard didn't want to put the motor on the dinghy, so we rowed to the dinghy dock where we were helped out of the dinghy by some locals on the dock. We left our dinghy and walked to El Capitanía's office. The lady in the office, spoke no English, so I got to practice a lot of Spanish!! However, when we asked about being able to get diesel fuel in the area, I couldn't understand the answer and we were ushered into a dark inner chamber of the office, where a young woman in a tank top and shorts sat at a large desk. She was in her late twenties, I would guess, and her blond hair was pulled back in a ponytail. She smiled and told us to sit down. This was certainly a different type of port captain than we'd encountered up to this point. She was very nice and used a translation program to help with communication. She spoke a little English. It turned out that there was no diesel available in Altata!! Several options were provided -- these people were soooooo helpful!! We could somehow travel by car for an hour with our jerry cans, fill them and carry them back to the boat and empty the cans into the tank, or it turned out to be a better option, (I think) to contact Roberto at the marina, another four miles down the river, and he would get the diesel for us and we could pick it up there. We spoke to Roberto on the phone, but weren't sure what to do at that moment, so we told him we would call him back.

Back to why we had come into the office in the first place, we needed to check in and with that check in, we should get an official document that we take to the next port. We were told that it would be just 5 minutes more, while the young woman "port captain" and the woman in the office spoke in Spanish, trying to figure out what to do. Obviously, they don't have many visitors. We waited. Then we were told it would be just 3 minutes more. We waited and looked out the window at the lively scene, where kites were flying and different food and souvenir booths were strung out along the street. We spoke in English and Spanish for a few minutes with the "port captain." We were told to wait just 3 more minutes. We were finally told to come back tomorrow!!!!

Leaving the office, we walked right up to the first booth we saw and had fabulous raw oysters for 5 pesos (35 cents) a piece!! As we continued to walk along the street that ran parallel to the river, we tried to find a taco stand, but couldn't. The specialty of the town appeared to be the oysters and a concoction that we tried made with coconut water, raw coconut, cucumber, shrimp juice and shrimp. It was very delicious. We didn't want to go into a restaurant at that point because we wanted to keep an eye on the boat. There was a brisk wind and we wanted to make sure we were really set. When we tried to return to the boat in our dinghy, we decided we'd have to wait, the wind was blowing so hard, that it would make the row (even though it wasn't that far) difficult. Standing on the dock, trying to figure out what to do, a man came up to us who spoke English. He told us that he was part owner of a sailboat -- Island Girl -- at the marina and before we knew it, we were on a panga, with our dinghy tied behind, and were being dropped off at our boat!! Really nice people.

We stayed aboard the boat until it began to get dark and then, this time with the motor attached, went ashore for dinner. The dinner was disappointing, but the night's entertainment was definitely not!! The malecon was lit up as bright as day with many lights arching over the plaza-like malecon. There were hundreds, if not thousands of people, young and old and many families all enjoying the evening in Altata, with its food booths, kites, restaurants, merchants, general raucousness and the music!!!! Every twenty or thirty feet there was another band. People would congregate around the different bands and often there would be one or two couples dancing to the music of a particular band. The basic instruments were drum, cymbals, trumpet, and trombone, but some bands had guitars and others had clarinets. One woman beckoned to us to come over to where she was sitting. The way she looked, we thought she might be American, but she wasn't and I got more chance to practice Spanish. We spoke a bit and I learned a little about her family who was there dancing to the music. She told us to be careful. That it was very dangerous. She said that most people are good, but there are a few bad ones and that we should be very careful. I guess it's all part of still being in the state of Sinaloa. I've put up several pictures of this wild party that I hope somewhat convey the atmosphere that evening. The party went on well into the wee hours of the morning, long after we had returned to our boat.

The morning was cool and quiet and we dinghied to the dinghy dock about 9:00AM. We were running low on fresh fruit and I wanted to find an abarottes tienda. Walking into the town off the malecon, the paved streets disappeared and revealed one of the poorer towns that we've visited. It did, however, have one of the best general stores we've seen, where Richard was able to find an allen wrench kit that he needed. We continued to explore, and arrived at a house on a corner that was selling fish. I wasn't sure about the fish, but we did see some crabs and finally decided to get a couple. Just then an open car, perhaps a RAV, pulled up to the house. Four young guys -- two in front and two in back -- looked out at the fish market while music from their car blared. They were so full of youth, themselves, and the holiday spirit of the town, we smiled at them in their exuberance. I thought that they were kind of playing around and couldn't be taking themselves seriously -- a caricature of young Mexican macho kids. But when their demeanor never changed, I began to realize that these guys had seriously come to collect what they felt was their due. They shouted something to the owners of the fish market and suddenly all hands were working preparing fish for these guys. We had become invisible. After a few minutes we left the fishermen as they frantically worked to satisfy these bullies.
After walking a few more blocks, we found a little fresh fruit and a larger, more traditional fish market and were able to buy some fish.

Next, we stopped at the Port Captain's office to pick up the necessary paper. This time, not only was the young woman in the tank top there, but her father -- the real port captain -- was there too. We were told to have a seat. I'm thinking, "Oh, boy. Here we go again. Five more minutes, three more minutes, and pretty soon it'll be an hour!" However, it was only about 10 minutes before we were given the paper that we needed and we were on our way.

When we returned to the boat, we called Roberto at the marina to order the fuel that we needed. He said that he'd have 64 liters of fuel for us. We said we'd be there in about an hour-and-a-half. Richard asked if we would be able to get to the marina easily with all the shoals and uneven shallow bottom along the way. Roberto assured us that we would be o.k. We made it to the first set of buoys fine, but couldn't see the next set. All we saw were unmarked sticks. As we were trying to figure this out, moving slowly, we ran aground!! I was at the helm, and I don't like that feeling. Richard took over and got us unstuck. We called Roberto and he sent a pilot out to help us. The pilot boat guided us through the shallow spots with vacationers passing us left and right in power boats. After docking at the marina, three young men appeared with two huge containers of diesel fuel. A young woman came along with Roberto and stayed with us while the fuel was being emptied into the tank. When they were done, I asked the woman how much it would be. Roberto came back and told us that we had purchased 100 liters (not 64??) at 15 pesos per liter (not 16 as we'd originally been told). He said it would be 1500 pesos. I knew there must be some kind of charge for the pilot boat and a charge for going to the gas station and transporting the fuel to the marina, but neither Roberto or the woman would come up with a price. We decided to give them 2000 pesos (about $120) and they seemed happy with that. I know this is the Mexican way of doing business, but it's way too vague for me!!

Once we were taken care of, I kind of felt like we had been forgotten, but after about 2 hours, the pilot reappeared to help us get out of the marina. It was amazing to be gliding along on water with a depth of 16 feet and look ten feet to the starboard or port and see sand bars!! We went back to our original anchorage spot for the night, and left the next morning for an overnight trip to La Paz. The Sea of Cortez was like a lake as we traveled east towards La Paz. It was a gorgeous day and Richard flew his new kite that he had gotten at the festivities in Altata. Though the wind did pick up a little, it was another easy overnight ride, arriving Easter Sunday in La Paz.