Sequitur

During the afternoon on Friday the blustery winds had begun to diminish, and by evening the gusts were gone and a gentle breeze had replaced the strong winds of the previous two days. The latest gribs confirmed that the wind storm was near its end, and further validated our decision to head north on Saturday.

We enjoyed a dinner of scallops in ginger and garlic, wokked together with white onion, celery, carrot, broccoli, poblano, zucchini, green pepper, and Roma tomato, all tossed with al dente rotini in oyster-flavour sauce and freshly toasted sesame seeds. We used the last of our ginger root. Had we realised how difficult it is to find here, we would have laid-in much more; the next time we see it, we'll stock-up.

While we were finishing our breakfast on Saturday the 16th, we bade our farewells on the 0800 VHF net, and then I went up top to begin shortening-in while Edi squared away below. Just before the anchor broke-out, Kip motored over in his dinghy to bid us a personal farewell; we really enjoyed the time we had spent with him and Mary.

At 0820 we weighed and motored out of The Waiting Room at Puerto Escondido in a very light breeze, with near glassy seas and skies clear, but for wisps of cirrus at the horizon. Our ten days here was a longer stop than in any place except San Francisco. We realized that we needed the time to rest and recover from all the physical activity we had undertaken in the two-and-a-half weeks in Espiritu Santo, Partida and other anchorages
since leaving La Paz.

As we rounded Punta Coyote and shaped our course northward toward Caleta San Juanico, we encountered 8 to 10 knot winds and half-meter seas from the north, so we motored into the wind, making water as we went. I had expected larger seas to be left-over from the last two day's blows, but found instead that Loreto Bay seemed to be protected by Isla Coronados on its north and Isla Carmen on its east. For the first three hours we were in rather gentle conditions; however, once we had passed over the shallows between Isla Coronados and Punta Baja, we were punching through two metre seas.



At 1410 we came to 20 metres on the Rocna in 4.5 metres of water at low tide in Caleta San Juanico. We were nicely tucked-in, sitting between two rock formations that stand near-vertically thirty or so metres out of the water, and we were protected by them from both the swell and the wind. The formation half a cable to our west is a large block of conglomerate rock, considerably taller than it is broad. Its top is covered with cacti, and it is connected to the beach at low water by a rocky isthmus, which is barely awash at high tide.



Half a cable to our east is a group of thin, spire-like rocks about thirty metres high, and on their cliff ledges and spire tops are eagle's nests. Perched atop the slimmest spire is a nest somewhat larger than the rocky summit. Particularly when viewed from our anchorage, the spire appears to be wearing an slightly oversized Cossack hat.



We launched the dinghy and took a circuit around the anchorage to shoot some pictures. The rocks to the east of us appear to be the remnants from the erosion of some vertically tilted strata, and there are some rather improbable formations. The strata making-up the slimmest spire have a gentle undulating curve, and the spire is so thin that in places we could see right through it.



As we were passing under the spire, one of its residents returned to the nest, and I captured a shot of it on its final approach. I would think these eagles feel safe in their aerie; I cannot imagine how a predator would approach.

Back onboard we relaxed, and in the evening enjoyed our first sampling of the yellowfin tuna we had purchased in Loreto. I seared the thick fillets, then let them finish in a bit of butter and served them with basmati rice and a julienne of fresh vegetables. This was accompanied by the 2008 Clos San Jose Sauvignon Blanc from Valle del Maule, Chile we had bought on our first trip to the ISSSTE in Loreto; even its cheap price could not justify its quality.



On Sunday morning we took the dinghy ashore to the shrine on the beach a cable-and-a-half north of our anchor. At the edge of the beach is a tree, and hanging on it and laying beneath it is a broad selection of mementos, ranging from the simple Kilroy-was-here type scrawls on stones, shells and pieces of wood, through notes in bottles, banners and bone carvings to a primitive-art wooden rendition of a dog. From the mementos we saw, this place looks to have been used by cruisers for decades to mark their passing through, and sometimes to honour the memory of departed friends.



When we had seen in the guidebook mention of the Cruisers' Shrine, we thought this would be an appropriate place to honour our departed poodle, Chianti. I wrote her name on the breast of one of her favourite toys, a stuffed frog, and we hung it in a protected spot near the trunk of the tree.

We headed out from the shrine to do a circuit of the northern and western parts of the Caleta, and as soon as we had left the lee of the rocks, we were steep, sloppy seas. Earlier in the morning there had been bands of cirro-stratus and cirro-cumulus decorating the sky and foretelling a change in the weather, and now the northerlies of the past few days had veered around to the east and were blowing unimpeded into the bay.



There were breaking waves along the beach as we approached it, so we cut short our explorations and headed back to Sequitur. Back onboard, we were nicely protected from both the waves and the winds by the rocky spires to our east. We spent the rest of the day relaxing in our snug little anchorage, and in the evening we enjoyed tarragon chicken breasts with steamed new potatoes and a julienne of fresh vegetables, accompanied by a 2006 Las Moras Cabernet Sauvignon / Shiraz from San Juan, Argentina.