We're HOME
26 March 2014 | Ensenada, Mexico
Bobbi
Our voyage has come to an end. As I sit at the Coral hotel in Ensenada, I look back to the 4016 Miles that we have covered. The 3 countries that we have visited (Panama, Costa Rica, Mexico) and the two territories (Tortola - BVI and St. Thomas - USVI) and visited the cities of Tortola, ???, Colon, Panama City, Playa del Coco, Puerto Chipas (formally Puerto Madera), Acapulco, Manzanillo, Cabo San Lucas, Turtle Bay and Ensenada for a total of 54 Days since we left on this expedition, with a since of amazement. Most sailors will never have the chance to accomplish such an undergoing but this is my job and I appreciate every nautical mile that I have sailed.
Joining me (Captain Bobbi Rossini) on the delivery was Lance Botthoff, Roy Siliker (Tortola to Panama) and Swabby -Josh Denham (Panama to Ensenada, Mexico). Without anyone of you, the trip would not have been as much fun as it was. I thank you. I also want to thank the wives and family of the crew, Sheri Rossini, Linda O'Keef, Amiko Siliker and Bruce and Gail Denham for all the support and love you have shown us. It takes a special person to let a loved one run off for weeks or months at a time. And to Bob Adams, the owner of the Leopard 39 Catamaran.
Now on with the rest of the voyage to get here. The trip up the coast of Baja was met with much excitement from the crew. Knowing we were only days (6 to 9) away from being home, every wave we rode, every crash of the hull against the ocean, every mile we sailed took us one step closer.
Almost immediately, we noticed the temperature had changed. For the last many, many weeks our entire wardrobe consisted of shorts a tank top or maybe a t-shirt. That was about it. Temps have been between 80 and 90 degrees with a lot of humidity. Now, jackets are the norm. At night, full "Foulies" are worn.
The sail up the coast was a typical "Bash", as it has become to be know. Northwest winds right on the nose, including the wind swell generated by up to 27 knots of wind. Out of the west or west north west the normal swell that comes from the Pacific. All this makes for a bumpy ride. Little, if any sails are used at all. Crashing against wave after wave takes it effects on the crew. Always wondering if the boat can take it. It's hard to describe the sound as your boat lifts into the air at a 30 degree angle, pierces the crest of the wave and launches itself 60 degrees downward into an oncoming wave. Water breaks over the bow and floods the boat. Most hatches on this vessel, due to sitting in the tropics so long, leaked. Water finds its way into your bedding, where your clothes are stored and every other nook and cranny.
Once we left Magnella Bay, we found ourselves in this situation. During any particular shift our electronics might read 48 hours to the next way point. When the rotation of watches complete and you would once again sit at the helm, the electronics might then read, 53 hours to the next way point. Seeing this news, would have a depressing wave of discouragement wash over you. But little by little we kept chipping away at the miles. This portion of the Baja has never taken me so long to traverse. I would rank this in the top 5 of my most uncomfortable passages. Somewhere 60 nautical miles from Turtle Bay, I had a deliema. We were running short in fuel due to constant pounding. By following the route I had laid in, with the high seas we would certainly fall short of the target destination. However, falling off a few degrees, cutting one of the engines and heading towards land, where the waters should be a lot more calm might save us just enough. But that was a risk, what if the seas still exist that far in, what will the wind be doing when we need to cut back out, what if?
So I made up my mind a laid in a new course. It seemed to be working. Our speed had picked up by 3 knots, we were quartering the waves which gave a much smoother ride and we were making up the distance. An hour later, it was time to cut back. That's were the plan fell apart. The swell were no less than that of the deeper water. The wind still at 25 knots on the nose and now I had to go right through it again.
Within an hours, I told the crew we were not going to make it and we would now need to sail to our waypoint. This would add upto a full day of extra sailing, if not longer. We were all disappointed but no more than me.
I cut one of the engines and started heading west. Lance knew I was extremely frustrated by the ordeal and joined me at the helm station, if nothing else, just to make sure I was alright. Very near our original way point, we had a wind shift,this allowed us to cut back on our line while make "some" forward progress. Now the wind allowed us to cut back and forth along our route. Soon realizing that the seas had calmed and looking at our 1/4 tanks I told Lance we were going for it. We rolled in the jib, turned on both engines and headed straight for the mark. How long it would last, we didn't know but I felt we needed to take this chance. The plan worked, for four watches, the winds became our friend and by morning we had made it. Looking at the tanks, there was 1/8 of a tank left. The minimum that should be left on a boat.
TURTLE BAY
It was a nice rest for a few hours as we waited for the fuel stations to open. Being on a Sunday and remembering the Mexico is very catholic, the stations might not be open for hours. On that note, Lance, once more, when up the mast to fix an ongoing short we had Steaming Light. I sent the boys ashore, since Josh has never been to turtle bay while I stayed on the boat cleaning it up and waiting for Anabelle (little fuel boat that competes for customers with the regular fuel dock) to show up. By 12pm, all fueled up we were once again on our way home.
Apon leaving Turtle Bay, just south of Cedros Island, Poseidon decided once more to throw his wrath at us. Soon after Lance stood his watch, winds would become Gale strength, that upward of 33 knots. Wind swell combined with the normal swell meant waves as high as 8 feet with extremely steep faces at very short intervals. The boat was being tossed around like the U.s.s Minow on Gilligans Island. Josh went forward to help Lance douse what remaining sail we had up. I joined Lance at the helm and literally hand steered the boat. I could react quicker to on coming monsters faster than the auto-helm. Both Lance and I hand steered for the next hour plus until we could reach the leeward side of Cedros Islands. Once there, things calmed down drastically.
Once to the other side of the island, the decision to anchor and wait out the winds was tossed about. But knowing our best chance to out sail the gale was in the very hours of the morning. Josh completed his watch at 12am. Now my turn as I exited the island for open water. I was right. The winds died to around 23 knots on my port quarter with the swell right on my nose. The seas were confused but without those 8 foot monster, there would be no chance in broaching the vessel. For the next 15 hours we motored our way through the pounding seas. Simply moving around the boat took every precaution. But finally we made it back to the coast where the seas and winds are a bit more predictable.
Ever wonder what we do on a day by day basis?
Much of the day, when not on "watch" is spent sleeping, reading or watching the lint in your belly button grow. I think Josh has it the worst being only 18, all the energy needs to be put somewhere. While on watch, a lookout for pangas and other vessels fills most of the time while dodging kelp fills the rest. We constantly watch the wind gauge hoping for a slight change in the wind direction, just enough to fill a sail but we typically watch in vain.
Food provisioning at the last port (Cabo) is always a challenge. I had Josh do a full inventory of everything we had onboard that was not eaten. We anticipate how many days or return would be and filled in our menu with what was left. What meals had blanks in them were filled at the super market. With all this precise planning, somehow we managed to have 4 jars of Prego sauce, two bottle of A-1 sauce and enough past to feed a Mexican army.
For those unaware of cooking on the high seas let me.......educate you. First, there is the sea state. In our case, a roller coaster ride. Second, food does NOT like to stay where it has been placed. It prefers to jump in and out of the pot, kettle, skillet or oven. Add in the cook, who very similar to the food has a hard time staying in the same place. A job most people prefer not to do. That's why so many sandwiches are eaten on a boat. I also believe that is why we have so much pasta left.
That's it everybody. Oh sure, the stories are incomplete and countless tales have been left out but that's the fun we get when we get a chance to see you in person. There's always more stories to be told.
Thank you for taking the time to follow us on this adventure. Here's a toast just for you:
There are big ships
There are small ships
There are all kinds of ships out on the sea.
But here to the best ships
The friendships, of you and me!