When one lives in such a limited and measurable environment as we do on the boat, it is easy to see how much living on land we are set up for luxury and downright wastefulness. We have about 45 gallons of water capacity on the boat, and we carry three 5 gallon jugs with us, to be filled when we make longer passages. We fill our tanks whenever we get a chance, but we have not yet come even close to running out of water. We have always been careful how we use our fresh water, and since Eric installed the salt-water pump we wash our dishes in salt water when we are under way. With the foot-pump working at the galley sink is a lot easier and more economical too. But since we had to carry our water onto the boat on our own backs in Ensenada, as opposed to just turning on a hose at the dock, we have become even more conscious about how we use it. So, for our conservation-minded friends I want to offer a little comparison of what is comfortably possible: we wash our dishes from dinner in five to six cups of fresh water, in less when we can use saltwater; we wash our hair in about the same amount each (and it does look clean!); we cook pasta and potatoes in one part salt and two parts fresh water; when we are not in a marina, we take sponge baths only, in four cups of water. In Ensenada, we brought 10 gallons of water to the boat from town (we were happy our jugs were not more voluminous and heavy than the 5 gallon capacity), and it covered our entire five-day stay at San Quintin, and our trip and stay at Cedros Island.

On Wednesday morning, when the tide got high enough, following our GPS trail we carefully traced our way back out of the San Quintin channel. Crossing the bar was quite different from when we came in. Either the sand on the bottom had shifted in height by as much as eight feet during the five days, or the tide action was much greater than I had estimated, but we mostly encountered water of only 20' depth. Once we got going, we had to motor for five hours but in the early afternoon we encountered a decent, steady breeze and calm seas. We set our course at 146, dropped the windvane rudder in the water, and enjoyed the ride. At Punta Baja, the north extent of Vizcaino Bay, again, the air at once became noticeably warmer, much to our delight. And twice we got surrounded by hundreds of dolphins, everywhere the eye could see they were jumping and frolicking, but obviously intent to get somewhere fast.

We sailed down wind with an average of 4.5 knots for about 20 hours, all through the night. In the afternoon we were hailed by another sailboat, "Freedom," whom we had met in Ensenada. They were behind us but they were obviously faster, and we expected them to catch up with us in a few hours. We watched them here and there, but when night fell, we lost the sight of them as they did not turn on a visible light. Since our wind was steady and we did not have to steer manually, we decided not to sit all night in the cockpit on our watches, and spend time in the cabin and pop out for a lookout every ten minutes instead. At 22:00, just as the moon was setting, we encountered "Freedom" again, this time approximately 100 feet to our port, and on a collision course with us. They must have been sound asleep and not paying attention to their course, because there is no way they would have not seen our light as they were approaching. In the dark, however, it was impossible for us to see them until the very last moment. We forced our boat to starboard and they eventually took a sharp turn to port, and all was well, only we were a little shaky. We guessed correctly that "Freedom" would zigzag along our course all night long, so we decided to stay in the cockpit on watch full-time.

In the morning, the wind had fallen and around 0800, after nearly 24 hours of sailing, we started the engine. Dolphins appeared by the dozen, and whales lolled around lazily. Seagulls stood on rafts of kelp. In time we raised steep-to Cedros Island, so named because the conquistadors, who were evidently not botanists, thought the few stands of oaks, junipers and pine were cedar.

The last thirty miles felt like an eternity, but eventually we found the anchorage, a roadstead at tbe north end of the island. Steep cliffs protect boats from westerly and northwesterly winds and waves, and a sea lion rookery produces astonishing sounds of barking and groaning. By the time we arrived (1500 hours) we were so tired that we took desperate naps and turned in early. It would have been nice to stay up and enjoy the quiet and the intensely phosphorescent glow of the wakes of the sea lions as they swam by, but our eyelids just wouldn't stay open. Before we turned in we got a visit from two local fishermen on a panga, asking for candies for kids. They did not offer a fish for dinner in exchange.

We raised anchor at 0430 the following morning so as to get to the much better protection of Turtle Bay, just 55 miles to the south. Sea lions and dolphins accompanied us out, leaving glowing phosphorescent streaks in the water behind them.

As the sun came up we realized what we were missing by spending so little time at Cedros Ialand: Beautiful, steep rocky cliffs of many colors, and deep arroyos leading to inviting beaches at the edge of the sea. A beach called La Palmita has a grove of two or three palm trees that mark the spring where Manila galleons used to water.