Day One: La Paz - San Evaristo

After an easy current-and-wind-assisted escape from the dock in Marina Cortez, La Paz, Baja California, México, we waved farewell to our new friend Frank, who leaves for the south Pacific in a few days, and motored to Marina Costa Baja to top off our fuel tanks. Charlie on s/v Juliet told us Costa Baja had the easiest access on their long dock, which is built to accommodate mega yachts. We filled both tanks and topped off the little dinghy gas can and we were finally on our way into the Sea of Cortez (also known as The Gulf of California.)

For me, this was the goal for the season. Well, I had two goals: the first was to catch up with old friends on the mainland of México and spend good time with them, and that was well accomplished. And the second was The Sea. John Steinbeck studied it, loved it, wrote about it. Sailors who've circumnavigated the Earth come back to the Sea and say it was their favorite place of all. But it was my own memories of the incredible sunsets, the stark, colorful vistas, the amazing color of the water, the delightful tiny towns and fishing villages that inspired me most of all - I was anxious to see it again, and see more of it.

Our timing for the northbound trip was excellent - a seasonal Comomuel wind was due to bring wind around the southern cape and up into the Sea, making the journey more comfortable. And, it was magnificent! We glided on a flat sea with a following wind, tipping our knot meter at 9 knots, the hulls so quiet on the water that if I wasn't looking at our forward progress - if I closed my eyes, I'd scarcely believe we were moving at all. Allan put out the two headsails (the jib and the Creature) in a wing-on-wing formation to grab as much of that wind as possible, and we gloried in the passing scenery. I liken sailing in the Sea of Cortez to what it would be like if the American Southwest was flooded. It's colorful, strong, clear, geologically fascinating, devoid of plant life save a few cactus, some scrubby things and the beautiful neon green palo verde.

Charlie, LeeAnne, Bubba dog and their guest Maria on s/v Juliet had left the day before and spent a night at the island of Calita Partida, and we were chasing them down for our rendezvous in San Evaristo. They made it in before us and LeeAnne had a savory chickpea stew ready to share. We like to combine efforts - Fly Aweigh is the bigger boat for group dining, and LeeAnne is a marvelous cook. It makes for a nice combo. I made rice.

Day Two: San Evaristo - Agua Verde

Our goal for the day was a fairly short (5 hours) sail north to Puerto Los Gatos, but first, a short hike on shore for the girls and cute Bubba, who longed for a walk on terra firma. Bubba is a little vacuum, capable of cleaning the floor of any and all food and plant matter like a high-powered and singular-minded Rumba. Even on the dinghy, he was snuffling in the corners and sure enough, wedged behind the anchor and the fuel line he found a squid! He popped his head out proudly with the rubbery, inky thing and LeeAnne barely grabbed it in time to avoid a possible mess. We landed by an iconic cruisers' mecca, Lupe and Sierra's, a darling palapa on the beach, its' walls strewn with hundreds of shells painted with the names of boats that have visited over the years. LeeAnne searched the collection for the one she had painted a few years earlier but it seemed to have gone missing. We took some photos and wandered along the beach, dodging giant fish heads and spines - this is a fishing village, after all, and the pangas often clean the fish and discard the remains on the beach for birds to pick at, and ultimately, to dry in the sun. It was a short stroll - the 9am departure time loomed, so I dropped them off at Juliet and returned to Fly Aweigh to prepare for the next leg.

As we pulled up the dinghy we noticed Charlie was struggling with the anchor chain on Juliet, and after watching to see if he needed some assistance, Allan finally headed over. It doesn't matter how sophisticated or well-maintained your stuff is, things on boat just like to break, jam, stick, corrode, rot, melt and fade. And jam. Juliet's chain had jammed, and jammed pretty good, and despite her strength, LeeAnne couldn't quite get the pull needed from down in the chain locker to break it free, so Allan climbed in there and had the muscle to clear the jam. This is cruising - we help each other. Up came the anchor, Allan zipped back and we stowed our dinghy and soon enough were on our way north. The wind had already begun to blow and we had another wonderful day of sailing, but toward the afternoon it started getting a bit rougher, and Charlie radio'd that he was concerned the anchorage at Los Gatos would be too rolly for comfort. Being about a half-hour ahead of them we ducked into the anchorage to assess the situation, and sure enough we saw a boat that had done the same and was bashing back out for somewhere else. Allan thought things would be nice as soon as the wind laid down at sunset, but that was hours away, and we all opted to continue on to Agua Verde, another 3 hours north. But we did get a close look at Los Gatos, which was very interesting, and made plans to try to visit on our way back south in a month or so.

Sometimes, when we're following Juliet on our AIS (that magical thing that tells us who's who and how fast they're going) we'll notice they've slowed down a bit, and we'll surmise that LeeAnne probably just caught a fish. She's an enthusiastic fisherwoman and sure enough, a few minutes later she announced on the ship-to-ship radio that sushi was on the menu that night. We dropped anchor and wasted little time getting a dinner together - I had roasted some beets in my solar oven on the passage that day, and made a big salad while LeeAnne wrapped her fresh fish into sushi rolls. As the sun sank we all faded early and parted ways, with plans for a hike in the morning.

Day Three - Agua Verde

We woke to find ourselves wrapped in a thick fog, so thick, we could barely make out Juliet, 115 yards away. Everything on deck was soaked, and we once again dug out the sweatshirts and slippers we thought we were done with for the season. Sure enough, our trusty guide book says these fogs are common this time of year, having to do with hot air and evaporation and cool air and water and all sorts of other amazing meteorological physics. It began to burn off quickly, though, and by the time we finished our oatmeal it was a clear, sunny day. I went over to pick up LeeAnne and Maria for our hike and we left Bubba looking forlorn on the deck and our husbands secretly grinning to themselves, relishing some alone-time on their boats.

I'm getting the hang of lowering the dinghy wheels, lifting the motor, and bringing the boat into shallower and shallower water until we finally have to leap out and pull the boat in, hoping the sand is firm enough to give the wheels purchase and not sink into quicksand or get stuck on big rocks. This beach was the perfect landing zone, and it all went well. Not knowing the tide cycle, and knowing we'd be gone a few hours, I tied the anchor line to the bow and stuck the little anchor deep into the sand some yards further up the beach, and off we went to find some goats.

Agua Verde is known for their goat farm, and the goat cheese and milk they produce. I have such fond memories of our last visit here and spending time with the delightful baby goats who wandered freely under the trees as we sipped cold beer and waited for our fresh goat cheese and home made tortillas. This time, well, things change. The goat farm wasn't where I remembered it, the goats were penned and looked a bit too lean, and nobody was about, save a hapless soul who had the task of slopping the angry pigs. So we headed off down the road, making a stop at the tiny tienda for a cold drink for LeeAnne. Tiendas in towns like this are typically run by a family, and are either in a small out-building or in the house itself. Babies and young children play on the porch, the teenage daughter or the abuela (grandmother) runs the cash register, the wares are sometimes small bins of over-ripe bananas, mango, papaya, apples, potatoes, carrots and onions, sometimes perfect avocados, and always a display of canned goods and processed foods like chips, cookies and gum. Some have ice boxes with sodas, ice, and maybe even ice cream sandwiches.

We continued on the dirt road, passing trucks going to and coming from the main highway farther inland. The road wound up the hillside with, at times, spectacular views of the anchorage and the harbor, and we wiled the time telling each other stories of our youth, travels we've been lucky to have, and other distractions. At the top of our hike LeeAnne decided to run - she loves to run and tries to put in 5-6 miles whenever she can - Maria and I walked back while Lee Anne ran ahead, then turned around to tag us, then ran ahead. Trucks and motorcycles passed and waved, and after a 5-mile jaunt we returned back to the beach, pushed the dinghy into the water and headed back to our boats for lunch.

After a quick veggie stir fry and the requisite short nap, Allan, LeeAnne, Maria and I motored out to beautiful Roca Solitaria, a tiny rock island at the entrance to the bay for some snorkeling. Finally, clear water! Fish, starfish, fan coral, eels, nudibranchs - it was a lovely underwater swim, albeit a bit chilly, and gave Maria a chance to try this form of swimming. (She was a lifeguard for years, and is an excellent swimmer, but new to snorkeling.)

Allan and I ended the day with a good boat bottom cleaning - he found more barnacles than he would have liked, but the CopperCoat is still doing really well at resisting furry growth. I scrubbed the waterline, which had become grimy from our time in the marina.

At sunset Allan and dinghied ashore and spent a little time at the teeny-tiny beach restaurant, taking advantage of their wifi while we sipped cold Corona's and then shared a hamburger and some french fries. A hamburger and fries! Not typical Baja food, but sometimes you get sick of fish, and forget about going vegan. So a nice half-burger and a few fries is just the ticket.

Nights have been sublime: calm, quiet, cool. Perfect for sleeping, and so far, save a few gnats, we are bug-free. I occasionally find myself scratching at a bite on my arm or something, but we haven't seen mosquitos or jejenes or even the renowned bees of the Sea. I certainly hope my gloating doesn't have any backlash.

Day Four: Agua Verde

It's so lovely here, with so much to do, we're staying a bit longer. This morning I crawled out of bed a bit after 6 to find clear air, but a thick fog bank hovered just off shore, holding back the sunrise for a few extra minutes. Clad in slippers and sweatshirt, I made my morning hot beverage, wiped the dew-strewn cockpit chair of puddles of water, and settled in to write. Allan joined me a bit later and we watched the fog bank as it slunk closer, swallowing the northern corner of the anchorage, holding fast and thick just offshore. It sparks conversation about our next leg north: our Coromuel winds have subsided, and the north winds will be back for the next few days, making northerly progress more lumpy. Best would be to leave at dawn, but with this fog, that might be a bad idea. We'll talk to Charlie later and see how he feels. They have a deadline to reach Puerto Escondido and the Loreto area in time for Maria's flight home on the 26th. Our deadline is much farther out - May 4th for the 4-day West Coast Multihulls Rally in Puerto Escondido.

I met LeeAnne and Maria at 9am for a ride to the beach and our morning hike, this time over to the north anchorage here in Agua Verde. It was a perfect morning, the air was clear and warm, with a cooling breeze, and as before, the incredible views of the Sea from the high places. Across a small spit of land at the top of the anchorage we saw a massive flock of pelicans fishing, diving straight in with giant splashes and coming out every time with a fish. And then, in a single moment, they all took a turn east and suddenly began diving into what was obviously a large bait ball, it was an amazing frenzy, which I captured on my phone. How they didn't crash into each other in the air and dive on one another in the water was a curiosity. Hours later, from our boat, we could see they were still circling, circling, diving. It must be a very rich and delicious sea.

And speaking of delicious, we had the best meal ever at the little restaurant in the center of the beach, Brisa del Mar, with a wonderful ocean view and a fresh onshore breeze. We ordered fish a la plancha - cooked in a pan - and just after we ordered, a few fishermen came in hauling a huge fish, maybe a yellowtail. 30 minutes later our lunch arrived, fresh and fabulous. We think the long wait was because they filleted THAT big fish for our lunch! While we waited, we linked into their Internet and downloaded weather, books, email, checked Facebook (yes, guilty) (how else do I find out who's getting married, who's in Greece, who's on first?)

A very active day, after lunch we took our 20-minute micro nap and suited up for another snorkeling trip, this time to the nearby Pyramid Rock, which proved to be a magical place. This time I spotted a scorpion fish, trying to be invisible among the rocks, his lumpiness and mottling and bulging eyes perfectly mimicking the mossy surrounds. We admired him for a bit and then swam all the way around the rock, spotting little rays and billions of newly-spawned baby fish. So many, I suddenly felt I had an answer to why the fisherman can come in each day with so much. Still, I wonder: out of 1000 baby fish, how many make it to adulthood? And how many live to a ripe old age without becoming our lunch?

Back to the boat for another shower and then Maria and I took a short kayak around Pyramid Rock, followed by cocktail hour on Juliet, where we had the privilege of trying LeeAnne's fabulous rosemary sourdough bread, which she's just learning how to bake. And which, in this case, was baked in the small tubular solar oven, perfectly. I'm hoping to have similar success at my first attempt tomorrow.

Allan and I closed out the night with defrosted green chile tamales while I dug into the first of The Complete Works of Agatha Christie, which I downloaded for my Kindle at the unbelievable price of $4.99! Quite a day.

Day Five: Agua Verde

This morning when we awoke the fog was wrapping around the hillsides just inland above the beach, and it looked clear out on the Sea, so that might bode well for tomorrows' move north.

Another girls hike on shore - we liked yesterdays' so much we did it again. The little old man that lives on the beach on the north end was in the same place, having breakfast on his front porch, and we again said good morning to him as we passed to check out the pelicans. We went a little further this morning, attempting a narrow path up the eastern shore, but it got unstable and steep, so we turned around. We're not as adventurous as when we were young, and we readily admit it - a twisted ankle or broken leg at any age is tough, but when you're only two on a boat and one is out of commission, and you're already starting to get stiff and less agile, well, we just try to avoid certain risks. All that said, the other day I bashed my knee in the dinghy, cut my heel on a cleat, and conked my arm on I-forget-what, so risks are unavoidable ...

After lunch, we lingered in the warm sand a bit, and Allan fell into conversation with an Argentinian man who was traveling in his camper with his windsurfer. Allan was eyeing the sail and the board hungrily, and sharing his windsurfing past. We watched as the guy launched his rig and easily stepped aboard and sailed off. When he got back only a few minutes later, he admitted there really wasn't quite enough wind, but offered the rig to Allan for a sail around the bay. Yes! We zipped off in the dinghy to the boat and got his bathing suit, gloves, and a few other necessities and were back on the beach in 10 minutes, he was off in 15. It felt so good to see him on a board again. On Fly Aweigh I we had a windsurfing board and 3 sails, but on this boat we don't have the space for them. Unfortunately it was a short sail - within a half hour he agreed - not enough wind to get on a plane and make it fun.

Back on our boats we spent the remainder of the afternoon just hanging out - it got too rough for kayaking so I invited Maria over for a game of Scrabble and then we all retreated to our own worlds for dinner.

Day Six: Agua Verde - Puerto Escondido

Perfect morning for our next leg north - clear, warm, calm. No sailing, but a smooth motoring trip up. We had Maria aboard so she could get a little taste of a catamaran. She'll join us for the next 2 nights before her flight home to Los Angeles. It was a lovely 4-hour trip, I mostly busied myself in the galley making vegetarian meatballs and sourdough bread for our dinner.

The route north is more of the gorgeous New Mexico-got-flooded scenery. We followed s/v Juliet so closely in the glassy water that we actually asked if they had any Grey Poupon.

We settled into a few moorings at the top end of the big anchorage in Puerto Escondido, I positioned my solar oven in the perfect spot for my first attempt at sourdough, and we dropped the kayaks to go for a short trip around the mangrove-strewn perimeter with LeeAnne and Bubba on their paddle board. Big, pale-colored fish with narrow, floppy, pointy top fins swam at the surface, daring us to get a good look at them but vanishing anytime we got within a few feet. Bubba took to his first ride on the paddle board very quickly, wagging his little tail and after a short time feeling confident enough to move around a bit. Allan tended to the timing of the sourdough bread but I was anxious to see if it actually rose in the baking cycle since so far it had been thoroughly underwhelming and I had my doubts. Sure enough, my attempt at rosemary kalamata sun-dried tomato sourdough in the solar oven ultimately flopped, but I'm learning. We ate it anyhow - it was delicious! Just sort of chewy and crunchy, but cooked all the way through and completely edible. Hey, it's a boat. We try not to waste resources.

Dinner aboard was fun, followed by a raucous game of Farkle, a dice-throwing game of chance that pits players against each other to a degree that made Maria, who has a very soft heart, quite uncomfortable. LeeAnne was teaching us the rules: "Okay, Maria, you have to decide now if you want to give Alison her points or try to steal them with a roll of the dice." "Steal them! Why would I steal from Alison? That's not nice!" So Maria played the game her way, avoiding any cut-throat moves, giving me points on every round, and she almost won the game with her nice-guy strategy. Inspiring.

We got Maria settled into her new digs aboard Fly Aweigh - our first overnight guest! It's been a fun and much-anticipated challenge for me to find comfortable and accessible homes for all the stuff that has heretofore resided on that guest bunk, and I did it.

Day Seven: Puerto Escondido

We awaken at 6:30 full of anticipation for the sunrise. The anchorage in Puerto Escondido is like a lake - almost completely encircled by hills to the south, east and north, and the beautiful Sierra de la Giganta to the west. I climb on the roof before the sun crests in the east and watch as the richly layered, craggy and stately mountains slowly come to life: at first, just a soft glow, warming. The very tops of the mountain begin to show their color, and then the details start to pop. I see Charlie next door on Juliet, his lean, tall form stretching out of the cockpit, taking in the morning light. The tiny mangroves at the edge of the water glow a soft green, and fish jump from the glassy surface. A light breeze begins to blow, the surface mottling the reflections of the mountains and boats. Birds begin to chatter, and I think I hear goats, but very far off.

I make myself a hot beverage and climb back into my blue folding chair thing with my laptop to catch up on this blurb, and realize it's dead dead dead. So I go back down, find an extension cord, figure out the distances from this plug, out the hatch, across the roof to the computer, or maybe this plug, that other hatch, and up. I work it out and am back in business as the sun begins to warm the back of my chair.

And so begins our time in Puerto Escondido. We have plans to rent a car and drive into the tiny town of San Javier in the mountains, check out Loreto, take some hikes, and in a few days, head back out to explore the local islands. On the morning radio net this morning the weather report - day after day - was the same: highs in the low 80's, lows in the mid 60's, winds 5-10 kts out of the south. Our mooring is calm and beautiful, and the marina is impeccably maintained, with L'Occitane products provided in the spacious showers, making us feel quite indulgent.

It's nice here, but it's nice everywhere! We're loving this whole México experience, but being in the Sea of Cortez is wonderfully detoxifying.


New photos in the Gallery!!

Position update:
https://forecast.predictwind.com/tracking/display/SV_FlyAweigh/